KNIVES AND HEARTSTRINGS

CHAPTER 12: ADIRA

It was well past the witching hour, and I was still wide awake. Sleep had evaded me tonight, leaving me tangled up in the sheets, thoughts of him plaguing me. The last person I wanted to think about, yet the only one who consumed every corner of my mind like a malignant tumor. Andronikos. Just the thought of his name alone felt like swallowing the finest whiskey—burning, but intoxicatingly sweet.

With a frustrated sigh, I threw the damp sheets off my body, swung my legs over the bed side and made my way towards the door. The balmy Greece summer air clung to my skin, making my tank top and skimpy shorts stick uncomfortably to my body. Barefoot, I padded downstairs to the kitchen, hoping that a glass of water would help cool the inferno raging inside me. But I know too well that water won’t be enough to quench this particular fire.

When I got to the kitchen, the lights were switched off, the room only dimly lit by the haunting glow of the moon that filtered through the large windows. I opened the fridge and leaned against the door, letting the cool air soothe my heated skin as I reached for a bottle of water. Then, like a bad dream—or worse, a forbidden fantasy—I heard his voice.

“Can’t sleep little one?”

My breath hitched, and I froze, gripping the bottle tighter. The timbre of his voice sent shivers skittering down my spine. I turned around slowly, and there he was in all his glory, standing in the doorway like some kind of dark deity—barefoot, shirtless, his sculpted chest bathed in pale moonlight. His usually tied black hair hung loose around his shoulders, framing those piercing clear blue eyes that always seem to see right through me.

Of all nights, why tonight?

“Water,” I mumbled, holding up the bottle of water like it was some kind of shield. “Just… thirsty.” His lips curved into a smirk, and he stepped further into the kitchen.

“Thirsty?” he repeated, his voice a low rumble that made the air around us feel even thicker and me even wetter. “Funny, so am I.”

Oh, for God’s sake.

I tried to move away but he was already closing the distance, his steps deliberately slow. The predatory gleam in his eyes spoke volumes about my situation— I was his prey tonight and he wasn’t planning on letting me escape this time. For each step he took forward, I took a similar one in the opposite direction until there was nowhere to go again. My back hit the fridge with a soft thud, the cold metal a sharp contrast to the heat pooling in my core.

“Andronikos,” I began, my voice shaky. “This isn’t—” I can’t do this; I finished in my head.

“Shh.” he whispered, his hands bracketing me on either side caging me in. The space between us was nonexistent, his body heat searing against mine. His head dipped, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, Flogítsa mou?”

My little flame. The Greek words rolled off his tongue like a dark caress, igniting a fresh wave of heat that left me slightly out of breath.

My knees buckled at the rough edge in his voice. He noticed, the bastard, because his hand suddenly landed on my thigh, warm and possessive, his thumb tracing slow circles against my bare skin.

“Cat finally got your tongue, Adira?” the egoistic jerk asked, a smirk playing on his stupidly beautiful face.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered, though it sounded weak even to my ears.

“Neither should you,” he continued, his lips ghosting over the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. “But here we are.”

His mouth moved lower, brushing over my collarbone, his stubble grazing my skin, sending spars shooting through me. My breath quickened as his hand slid higher, fingers trailing along the curve of my hip.

“Andronikos, stop,” I said, not meaning it one bit.

“Stop?” he echoed, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes were like molten silver, the sheer intensity in them making me shiver. “Tell me to stop again, Adira. Say the word and I’ll walk away.”

Silence. Neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke. Then I broke.

Grabbing the back of his neck, I pulled him down, crashing my lips against his. It was lie striking a match to gasoline—an explosion of heat and need consumed the two of us. His hands were everywhere, sliding up my thighs, gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him.

He kissed me lie he wanted to devour me, his tongue tangling with mine in a way that left me short of breath. I fisted his hair, tugging hard, and he groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, causing more wetness to pool in my shorts; making me ache for more.

His fingers tangled in my braids, tugging just enough to tilt my head back and give him access to my neck. His lips followed, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of my throat.

“So soft,” he murmured, voice hoarse with desire. His hands continued my path over my curves, gripping my hips, my waist, my ass, like he couldn’t get enough of me. “So perfect.” I couldn’t get enough of him either. My fingers roamed over his broad shoulders, his chest, mapping every hard plane of muscle. And then I felt it—something hard pressing against my stomach. My eyes widened as realization dawned.

Oh my God.

“Andronikos,” I started, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more intentional, leaving me completely undone. My body betrayed me, arching into him, craving more of the intoxicating pleasure he offered.

But then like a bucket of cold water, reality crashed over me. What am I doing?

I broke the kiss, pushing against his chest, breathing hard. “This… this can’t happen.”

His brows furrowed, frustration marring his face. “Adira…”

“No,” I said shaking my head, backing away from him, from our encounter. I’m never going to look at that fridge the same way again. “I can’t… I shouldn’t…”

My words were a jumbled mess, but I didn’t care. I turned and bolted, my bare feet slapping against the floor as I fled the scene, leaving the untouched bottle of water on the counter.

Slamming the door to my room shut, I pressed my back against it, my heart racing. My fingers brushed over my swollen lips, still tingling from his kiss.

“What have I done?” I whispered into the darkness, my voice trembling with a mixture of horror and longing. The surrounding air felt suffocating, heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. I slid to the floor, my head falling into my hands, as his touch lingered on my skin, a haunting reminder of the line I’d just crossed.