Greek Affairs: In His Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger / Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon's Bed / Bedded by the Greek Billionaire

‘No. Because you wouldn’t believe me,’ he retorted smoothly. ‘And as you can see, I am adequately covered.’

It wasn’t the most sensible thing to say in his present position. When her eyes dropped automatically to his boxer shorts, his treacherous body couldn’t help but respond.

And she noticed.

‘You—you’re shameless,’ she said, winding protective arms about her midriff. ‘Do—do you ever think of anything but sex?’

Milos stared at her in disbelief. Theos, he knew he hadn’t imagined the instinctive response he’d felt in those moments before he’d been forced to push up to the surface of the pool. She’d been just as involved as he’d been, and it infuriated him that she could stand there and pretend that what had happened had been all his doing.

But what was new?

‘You—amuse me, do you know that?’ he demanded between his teeth, although what she really did to him didn’t bear description. ‘You deluded yourself that you had no part in our lovemaking fourteen years ago, and you’re doing the same again now.’

‘No, it’s you who is deluding himself,’ she told him swiftly. ‘I didn’t want to come here, Milos. You made me. And now I’d like to go back.’

‘I’ll just bet you would,’ he muttered, barely audibly, as he bounded up the remainder of the steps and wrapped his arm about her waist. Then, for the third time that day, he damned his soul by covering her trembling mouth with his.

There was a moment when he thought she was going to resist. Her hands came up and dug painfully into his shoulders, but her anger didn’t last. When his tongue invaded her mouth, filling that hot, wet cavern with a greedy hunger, she uttered a helpless little moan of submission. Then, her fingers spread and lingered, gripping his arms now as if to save herself from falling.

He didn’t attempt to hide his response to her eagerness. A hot lust was pounding through his veins and the memory of what they had once shared was like a fever in his blood. He was blind to everything but the knowledge that he wanted her again. He wanted to taste her, to tempt her, to show her that what had been between them was by no means over.

With a groan vibrating in his chest, he hooked his thumbs into the vest top, pulling it down far enough so that he could lick the moist hollow between her breasts. She tasted so good, her heat surging to meet his tongue despite the pool-induced chill of her skin. She melted under his hands, swaying helplessly against him. She was making sensuous little sounds, too, her fingers moving restlessly into his hair.

He knew she was no longer in control of her emotions. Milos felt a surge of satisfaction at the thought of how easily she’d succumbed to his demands. She might hate him later, but right now she was breathing heavily, her limbs soft and trembling against his.

His eyes dropped to her breasts and, bending his head, he pushed the stretchy fabric low enough for him to take one engorged nipple into his mouth. He rolled it against his tongue, hearing the whimpers of pleasure she was making, and contemplated how she would react if he slipped his hands inside the bikini briefs.

But before he could act on it, before he could do anything more than press her even closer to his throbbing erection, the sound of spinning rotor blades rent the air. They were accompanied by the roar of powerful engines, and Milos needed no crystal ball to know what they presaged.

He swore then, in his own language, but the words he used were scarcely adequate to describe his frustration. There was no longer any opportunity to expose more of Helen’s delectable body, and, while common sense might applaud that reality, his emotional needs were fairly screaming their regrets.

Reluctantly, he pulled her top up over her breasts and placed his hands on her shoulders. Somehow, he had to rescue this situation before the pilot of his helicopter stepped out of the aircraft. It wasn’t going to be easy with Helen gazing up at him in wide, uncomprehending inquiry. There was so much he wanted to do with her, so much he still had to say. And now, skata, it was too late. Too late, especially, to tell her how she made him feel.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and he knew at once that he’d said the wrong thing.

‘You’re sorry,’ she echoed, and as the words took root he saw the dreamy expression draining out of her eyes and something else, something much less attractive, taking its place. ‘Oh, yes. You’re very good at being sorry after the event.’

‘You don’t understand—’

‘Oh, I think I do.’

‘My helicopter is here,’ he said, through clenched teeth. ‘It’s just arrived. Didn’t you hear it? It’s come to fly me to Athens for the conference.’

‘Where’s Milos?’

Helen’s lips tightened. How ironic that that should be the first question Melissa asked when she and Rhea got back to the villa at San Rocco. Not Where have you been? Or Did you have a good time? Just Where’s Milos? As if he was the person her daughter most wanted to see.

‘He’s getting ready to leave for Athens,’ Helen replied, amazed that she could answer the question so coolly. ‘He was—we were at Vassilios when his helicopter arrived.’

‘His helicopter! Wow!’ Melissa was impressed. She turned to Rhea, who was just behind her. ‘Is it really his helicopter?’

‘It belongs to the company,’ said Rhea evenly, but Helen was aware that the girl’s eyes were on her, not on Melissa. ‘It’s more convenient than a plane.’

‘Cool!’ Melissa’s eyes sparkled. ‘Imagine that: having a helicopter you can use any time you feel like it.’

‘Anyway, he said you knew all about it,’ Helen put in, addressing herself to Rhea. ‘He sends his apologies for not saying goodbye.’

Rhea nodded, her eyes still thoughtful. ‘He’s attending a conference about reducing oil pollution,’ she said absently. Then, ‘Did he have time to bring you back?’

‘No. Stelios did that.’

But Helen didn’t want to think about that now. It was enough to know that she could still smell the pool water on her body, could still feel the possessive touch of Milos’s hands, Milos’s mouth. What must he have thought when she’d scuttled into the cabana and pulled on her clothes without even taking a shower? What was she supposed to make of the look on his face when he was forced to bid her a public goodbye?

Shaking off the remembrance, she tried to speak casually. ‘I—er—I suppose we should be going, too.’

‘But we haven’t had lunch,’ objected Melissa at once, turning to Rhea for support. ‘You said Marisa would have everything ready.’

‘And I meant it.’ Rhea seemed to gather herself, putting out a hand towards Helen as if in apology. ‘My mother’s housekeeper will be most offended if you deny her the chance to show off her culinary skills,’ she insisted. But Helen was still left wondering if she truly wanted them to stay.

‘Well …’

She hesitated, and Melissa took the chance to speak again. ‘Come on, Mum,’ she persisted. ‘It’s not as if you’ve got anything else to do.’

Which was true, Helen admitted silently. Now that Milos had left the island, she didn’t have to worry about him turning up unexpectedly. She ought to have been feeling relieved that he was gone. But all she really felt was defeated.

‘All right,’ she said at last, earning herself a delighted whoop from Melissa. Her father was expecting them to stay, after all, and it would save a lot of unnecessary explanations.

And, in spite of her reluctance, the visit was not so bad. She’d expected to find it hard to talk to Milos’s sister, but she didn’t. The girl had evidently decided it wasn’t Helen’s fault that her brother had deserted them, and over a meal of stuffed vine leaves, a crisp green salad, and a sticky sweet dessert, she made an effort to be friendly.

She told Helen about the course she was taking at college and her plans to set up her own interior-decorating business as soon as she graduated. Her father had agreed to finance her for the first year, and Helen thought how lucky Rhea was to have such loving and supportive parents.

It made her wonder if she’d have felt differently about her own situation if she hadn’t cut her father out of her life. Would he have recommended that she marry Richard if she’d confided her pregnancy to him? Of course, her mother had been concerned about what other people were going to think when they discovered Helen was unmarried and expecting a baby. She’d never really got over the gossip that had ensued when Sam had walked out.

Of course, if her father hadn’t walked out, Helen would never have met Milos Stephanides. She’d never have found herself pregnant with a baby whose father’s identity she’d kept secret even from her mother …

‘Where are you going?’

Sheila Campbell turned from the television when Helen appeared in the sitting-room doorway. She was obviously surprised to see her daughter dressed and ready to go out when she’d said nothing about having a date earlier in the day.

‘I’m going to meet Sally at the coffee bar,’ said Helen quickly, mouthing the first lie that came into her head. She had thought of making Richard, her current boyfriend, her excuse, but her mother was bound to ask Richard about it later on and she couldn’t have that.

‘Sally? Sally who?’ Sheila frowned, and Helen wished her mother were not so interested in everything she did.

‘Sally Phillips,’ she said, hoping she sounded convincing. ‘You don’t know her. She’s in my English tutor group.’

‘Oh?’ Sheila shrugged and turned back to the television. ‘Well, don’t forget it’s a school night. I shall expect you home before half past ten.’

‘Oh, Mum!’ Helen gave a resigned sigh. ‘I’m not a child, you know.’