Figuratively Speaking

J.J. Massa
Available from Amazon

“Please, Grandfather. I don’t belong here,” she choked. “Just let me go back to the city where I know what to expect. I'm not your responsibility,” she whispered raggedly. "I-I can deal."

 

She was struggling to contain her tears. Here she was, twenty-four years old and acting like such a baby. She buried her face in the pillow she was clutching, holding on for dear life.

 

“You don’t like our island, Alyssa?” a deep, cultured voice asked.

 

"Oh god, shoot me now," Alyssa groaned, wishing she could wink away like a fairy or something. Nikodemos Kosmapoulos was the single most attractive man she’d ever met.

 

With his dark brown hair, eyes like green ice, narrow hips and broad shoulders, she found him overwhelmingly desirable. That must be why she made a fool of herself whenever their paths crossed. The dam burst at that moment and she began to cry in earnest.

 

“Damn it! I don’t… I can’t… ” She gasped between sobs. “I’m sorry,” she just couldn’t help herself -- she didn’t know what was happening to her.

This had to happen in front of His Majesty, the king of sexy! Great!

 

Could there possibly be anyone else on this island she could offend? Turning on his heel, Nik had gone.

 

She was still gasping for breath and struggling with her sobs when he returned. His presence had only just registered with her when he pressed a glass of whiskey into her hand.

“Drink,” he ordered.

 

“Is alcohol… the answer… to everything… in this family?” she gasped out.

 

In answer, he took the liquor and put it on the table beside her bed. He marched back to her and scooped her up. Tumbling her to the bed, he reached down and removed her shoes.

 

“Drink,” he growled a second time, holding the glass to her lips. Eyes wide, she took a swallow. “Again,” he ordered. With difficulty, she swallowed the rest of the dark, amber liquid, almost afraid to do anything else.

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