. .
Can a Greek God make Jesse believe in love again?
Jesse’s heartache is as vast as the Aegean Sea when his mother’s sudden passing lures him back to the Greek island he swore never to return to. With bitterness festering over his mother’s abandonment, Jesse’s unprepared for the emotional maelstrom awaiting him.
Demetrios still carries the scars of a teenage love affair that once set his small-island life ablaze. Bound to Naxos by duty and drowning his sorrow in fleeting dalliances with tourists, he’s blindsided when Jesse, his stepbrother, returns for his mother’s funeral.
Jesse grapples with the pain of his mother’s choices and Demetrios struggles with the weight of familial expectations. But their undeniable chemistry reignites, challenging them to confront what happened before their romance crashed and burned.
Is it too late for Jesse and Demetrios to embrace what they long denied themselves? Or will fear of heartbreak keep them anchored in their past?
Greek God (Flying into Love #7) is a stepbrothers-to-lovers, hurt/comfort, second chance standalone romance in the steamy MM Flying into Love series, featuring a shy and awkward illustrator who doesn’t believe in love and an enigmatic playboy oozing romance.
Title: Greek God
Authors: C F White
Length: 308 pages
Series: Flying into Love, Book 7
Amazon – Kindle Unlimited – All Regions
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Jesse peered over his shoulder. Demetrios stood over him, hands in his trouser pockets. Jesse turned away, lifted his glasses to wipe his eyes, then stood, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “How’s Anastasia?”
“Who?”
“The girl you’re fucking for an apartment.”
“Jesse—”
“I can’t do this, Dem.”
“Do what?”
“This!” He flapped a hand at the two of them. “You. I don’t know who you are. What you are. Or what I even am to you.”
“If you’d let me, I’d show you.” Demetrios stepped forward, reaching for Jesse’s hand, but Jesse dipped away, out of reach. “You stopped talking to me. You didn’t even want to be friends!” His voice was so weak at the word, ‘friends’ as if it was a last resort.
“How can we be friends, Dem?”
“Why can’t we be friends?”
“Because we’re brothers. And you’re here. And I can’t be here. And you…you…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. The pain was too much. “Why am I even here?” He asked himself instead, then stormed off. He had to get away. Needed to leave. Mostly because of how good Demetrios looked. How intoxicating he smelled. How genuine he came across.
And how easy it would be to be lured back into the fairytale.
“Jesse!”
Jesse marched along the seafront, dress shoes clomping on concrete and filling up with sand particles to irritate his feet. It was better to focus on that than the emotional pain. It hurt less. He dodged the bars, those strolling along with ice creams, and found himself outside the Kallis Taverna, the sign outside stating it was closed for a wedding.
Jesse needed to cry. But he couldn’t do it out in the open among the excited holiday makers. So he ducked into the passage separating the taverna from the apartments and, midway, fell against the wall as dusk hit, providing him with shade from the sun and a shadow from his life. From himself. From everything that caused him to break.
“Jesse?” Of course Demetrios would find him.
Jesse took his glasses off, cleaning them on his shirt and sniffed. Demetrios stood in front of him, that sweetened scent driving into Jesse’s consciousness and leaving an imprint on his broken heart. He put his glasses back on, lifted his head and met his gaze.
No words exchanged. Just soft breath meshing with soft breath as they inhaled each other and exhaled their defeat. Jesse didn’t move away. He stood there, grounded against the concrete wall, blocked away from the rest of Aegleia.
Demetrios slipped a hand around Jesse’s neck, stepped closer, and kissed him.
It had been two years.
Two and a half years.
Nearly three years since he’d had Demetrios’ lips on his own. Since he’d had a kiss that sparked frustratingly inside him. Since he’d allowed himself to feel what it was Demetrios gave him that no one else could. He couldn’t fight the instinct, the innate need to feel the touch of him on his skin, to know how it felt to have him, body and soul. Like this. He kissed him back, tongues reuniting as Demetrios crushed his body against his, giving his all to him and this moment.
As the sun filtered down, bringing night to day, Demetrios kissed and kissed and fell into Jesse. Not quite suppressed, but not quite free, Jesse hung there like a slave for him. It was easier to let it all happen. To throw himself back into the fire. The initial burn might sting, but it was the scar tissue after that would forever blister.
Demetrios ripped his mouth away and, in velvety smooth tones that had Jesse caving, he rumbled a desperate and imploring, “Jesse.” Then he dipped his forehead to his and exhaled at the hardness locked within Jesse’s trousers.
Jesse knew he’d let him do it before Demetrios might have even had the thought, and he bashed the back of his head against the wall as Demetrios fiddled with his belt, unfastened his button and lowered his zip. He then kissed him as he delved his hand inside Jesse’s underwear and wrapped desperate, firm fingers around his needy, throbbing cock.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” Demetrios growled. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”
Jesse didn’t tell him any such thing.
. .
Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.
She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.
After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and brought pen back to paper having written stories as a child but never the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, she can’t stop. So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
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