Greek Affairs in his Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger\Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon’s Bed\Bedded by the Greek Billionaire (12 page)

It was the last coherent moment she had. When Milos’s lips touched hers, she forgot all about Richard, all about her parents, all about everything except the sensuous brush of his mouth against hers. Any thoughts of a rational nature were swiftly shattered by those featherlight caresses and the quivering they aroused inside her seemed to swell and expand until even her skin felt almost too brittle to contain it.

His mouth played with hers as his fingers had played with hers earlier. And, in no time at all, she was reaching for him, clutching the lapels of his suit jacket, giving herself up to the unimaginable pleasure of his kisses. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted, but she wanted more, and it was her amateurish efforts to get close to him that changed the whole tenor of his embrace.

Muttering a groan, Milos’s mouth fastened on hers, pressing her back against the cushions behind her. She felt the erratic pulse of his heart beating against hers as he deepened and lengthened the kiss, the unsteady brush of his hand against her breast as he sloughed off his jacket and loosened his tie.

Then his tongue was stroking over her lower lip, forcing its way between her teeth and into her mouth. Hot and wet, it was unbearably sexy, and Helen’s senses went into overload.
Ignoring the warning prick of her conscience, she sank lower on the cushions until Milos was practically lying on top of her.

Somehow the buttons of her shirt had become unfastened, making it easy for him to slide his hand inside. His strong fingers cupped her breast over her bra and that sensual caress caused an ache of desire to flower deep in her belly. Heat spread over her and through her, and when he bent his head lower and sucked her nipple through the cloth she couldn’t prevent the convulsive cry that escaped her.

‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked at once, pushing himself up to look down at her, and she gave a violent shake of her head. ‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ she assured him huskily, winding her arms around his neck. Then, shyly, ‘Don’t stop.’

Milos closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I don’t want to stop,’ he admitted unevenly, and as he lowered himself onto her again she felt the insistent pressure of his erection hard against her stomach. ‘But, this is crazy!
Theos
—I want to make love with you, Helen. And it’s tearing me up because that’s not going to happen.’

‘Why not?’

She heard herself ask the question, but she didn’t regret it. This was so different from anything she’d shared with Richard that in her present frame of mind she found it hard to believe it could possibly be wrong.

‘Because we hardly know one another,’ he told her roughly. ‘And, quite honestly, I can’t imagine your mother allowing us to see one another again.’

Helen couldn’t imagine that either, but she didn’t say so. However, it did make her want to prolong this evening for as long as possible, and if that meant what she thought it meant, then so be it. She had to lose her virginity sooner or later, she reminded herself, and she’d rather it was with him than someone else.

Cupping his face in her hands, she opened her mouth against his and felt his teeth bite into the lower lip. But, ‘I can’t do this,’ he said against her lips, and with a muffled oath he thrust himself up and away from her.

Helen was devastated. She’d thought he was as committed as she was, but it was obvious he was still in control of his feelings. With a little moan of anguish, she turned onto her side facing the back of the sofa, burying her suddenly tear-wet face in the cushions.

‘Don’t,’ she heard him say in a tortured voice. ‘Helen, don’t make me despise myself, any more than I do already.’

‘You don’t despise yourself,’ she muttered, her voice muffled against the soft fabric. ‘You despise me.’ She broke off with a sob. ‘I should never have come here.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Milos agreed harshly, but now his voice was much nearer, and when she rolled onto her back she found him hunkered down beside her. He put out his hand, his thumb smearing a tear from her wet cheek. ‘
Moro mou
, what am I going to do with you?’

Helen sniffed. ‘What do you want to do with me?’

‘Now that’s an unnecessary question, and you know it,’ he said unevenly. ‘If I said I wanted to take you to bed, to take away all your clothes so I could look at you, you’d run a mile.’

‘Why?’

‘Oh, please—’ Milos shook his head, his thumb moving to her mouth and running almost cruelly over her lips. ‘We both know you’ve never done anything like this before.’

Helen’s face burned. ‘How do you know?’

For an answer, Milos moved his hand to the juncture of her legs, cupping her mound with a practised hand and causing her to buck a little jerkily beneath his touch. ‘See,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t need any more proof.’

‘You—you startled me, that’s all,’ she protested, but Milos only gave her an old-fashioned look.

‘Oh, right,’ he said drily. ‘I suggest you dry your eyes and I’ll take you home.’

‘I don’t want to go home.’

He scowled. ‘What you’re doing is—dangerous.’

‘Because you want me?’

‘Get up, Helen.’ Milos gnawed at his bottom lip. ‘Don’t make me have to do it for you.’

Her lips trembled a little, but she didn’t move. If he wanted her to leave, he would have to make her. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

‘Helen!’ he said grimly, speaking through his teeth.

‘Milos!’ she countered.

He swore then and, with some force, he thrust his arms beneath her and hauled her up into his arms. He got to his feet and for a heartstopping moment he held her there, cradled against his chest, their eyes, their mouths, only inches apart. Then, determinedly, he lowered her to the floor.

But it didn’t work out as he’d intended. Her arms were around his neck and when he set her on her feet they stayed where they were. In fact, his action had only added to their intimacy, her limbs sliding silkily against his aroused body.

‘
Theos
, Helen,’ he said hoarsely, but she sensed it was no longer a protest. They’d both proved their points in different ways, and he gave a sigh of defeat. ‘Yes, I want you,’ he added as his arms closed about her. ‘I just hope you won’t regret this in the morning.’

R
HEA
drove them back to the vineyard in the late afternoon. Surprisingly, Melissa had fallen asleep after lunch and although Helen would have woken her, Rhea had persuaded her to change her mind.

‘She’s tired,’ she said. ‘She’s had a strenuous morning. Let her rest.’

In the circumstances, Helen decided not to argue. And it was true, Melissa was probably worn out. But she suspected Rhea’s motives for wanting them to stay had more to do with wanting to know about her brother’s apparent interest in herself and what it might mean to his family.

Leaving her daughter drowsing in the shade of the terrace, Helen accepted Rhea’s invitation to walk with her in the gardens. Despite the bare hillside that fell away below the villa, within its walls someone had created an oasis of colour. Terraces of exotic blooms and flowering shrubs hid a tumbling waterfall, and on the lowest level a stone bench was set beneath an arching pergola that was covered with purple bougainvillea.

‘Shall we sit?’ suggested Rhea, but it was hardly a question. She seated herself without waiting for her guest’s acquiescence, and Helen had little choice but to join her.

‘So,’ Rhea continued, immediately getting to the point, ‘how long have you known my brother?’

Despite her suspicions, Helen was taken aback. ‘I—beg your pardon?’

Rhea arched a dark brow. ‘I asked how long—’

‘Yes, I know what you said.’ Helen took a moment to
gather herself. ‘I—just wonder why you feel you have to ask such a question?’

‘Oh …’ Rhea was thoughtful. ‘Put it down to sibling curiosity. I can’t remember the last time Milos invited a woman to his home.’

‘He didn’t exactly invite me to his home.’

‘Oh, he did.’ Rhea was very sure of that. ‘I was left in no doubt that he wanted to talk to you. Alone.’

Helen felt the heat rising up her face. ‘Then why didn’t he invite me himself?’ she countered stiffly, and Rhea shrugged.

‘Perhaps he didn’t believe you’d accept his invitation.’

Helen tried to be dismissive. ‘I can’t believe that.’

‘Can’t you?’ Rhea’s eyes were almost as direct as her brother’s, which was disconcerting in itself. ‘Helen, I know my brother. I know him very well, actually. He was very definite about what he wanted me to do.’

‘Well, I’m sorry if you feel he was using you to get to me—’

‘I didn’t say that.’ Though they both knew she had. ‘I don’t want to offend you, Helen. I’d just like to know how the two of you met. That’s not so difficult to understand, is it?’

‘No.’ Helen moistened her lips. ‘But your brother’s a—a very attractive man, Rhea. I imagine he meets lots of women in the course of his travels.’

‘I imagine he does.’ Rhea sighed. ‘But Milos is not a—what is that word?—a womaniser,
okhi
? I think I can count on one hand the number of women he has introduced to me.’

Helen didn’t have an answer for that, so instead she decided to be honest. Well, as honest as it was necessary to be, anyway. ‘He—we—I met him—oh—’ she mustn’t be too definite ‘—perhaps a dozen years ago. In England.’

Rhea’s eyes widened. ‘
Psemata?
Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ Helen tried to sound casual about it. ‘My—er—my father had asked him to look me up.’

‘
Katalava
. I see.’ Rhea absorbed this with interest. ‘I wonder why he didn’t tell me that?’

‘I don’t suppose he considered it important.’

‘But—you must have been very young at that time.’

‘Not so young,’ said Helen, hurriedly trying to calculate how old she’d have been twelve years ago. ‘I—er—I was about twenty.’

‘Ah.’ Rhea’s eyebrows lifted even further, and Helen realised that by exaggerating her age, she had inadvertently given Rhea a reason to think there might have been more than friendship between them.

‘Anyway,’ she said, hoping to divert her, ‘I suppose you’d still have been in primary school then.’

‘I guess.’ But Rhea wasn’t interested in her own past now. ‘Imagine,’ she said reflectively. ‘You and Milos have known one another since almost before Melissa was born. Were you married when you met? Of course, you must have been.’

This was getting more and more complicated and Helen strove desperately for a lifeline. ‘You must love coming here,’ she said, gesturing at the view. ‘Who looks after the garden? Your mother?’

‘Hardly.’ Rhea giggled a little at that. ‘If you ever meet my mother you’ll understand how unlikely that scenario is. Athene is an ornament, not a worker. She considers giving my father five children was quite enough.’

Helen managed a polite smile and she was relieved when Rhea went on in a different vein. ‘But, yes, I do love coming here. It’s so much more appealing than the college apartment I share with a girlfriend in Athens.’

‘Oh, but surely you could—’

Helen broke off and Rhea finished the sentence for her. ‘Live at home?’ she queried. ‘Well, yes, I could. But I
wanted to be independent. To prove I could—what do you say?—hack it,
ne
, with my fellow students? Unfortunately Papa was right. I would have been more comfortable living with them.’

‘So you come here when you can?’ Helen breathed a little more easily. ‘I don’t blame you. It’s very beautiful.’

‘You like it?’ Rhea stared at her and Helen could almost see the cogs of her brain turning.

‘Very much,’ she said.

Rhea frowned. ‘Melissa must just have been a baby when you met Milos,’ she said, returning to her previous theme, and Helen suppressed a groan.

‘I—suppose she must have been,’ she said, hating the lie, but unable to do anything about it. She got determinedly to her feet. ‘I really think we ought to be going now.’

Rhea squinted in the sunlight as she looked up at her. ‘I’ve embarrassed you.’

‘No.’ Helen spoke sharply. ‘Why—?’

‘Talking about Milos,’ broke in Rhea softly. ‘I get the feeling there was more to your relationship than just a casual encounter.’

‘You’re wrong.’ But Helen was breathing faster now and she knew the other girl had noticed.

‘I’m not suggesting you had an affair,’ Rhea continued lightly. ‘After all, you were married, as you say. But I know how attractive my brother is. And he was obviously quite—intrigued—by you.’

‘No.’

It was all Helen could think of, but Rhea wasn’t to be put off. ‘There is some history there, I know it,’ she said. ‘And if you will not tell me, then I will just have to ask Milos.
Then pirazi
, it doesn’t matter. Shall we go and see if Melissa is awake?’

Conversely, Helen was loath to leave the subject now. She dreaded to think what Milos would say if Rhea asked
him how they’d met. And if he gave her different dates, she was bound to be suspicious. Oh, what a tangled web she’d woven for herself.

But there was nothing she could do or say to change things now and she was grateful that Melissa’s chatter meant there were no awkward silences on the journey home. The younger girl had awoken from her nap full of energy and eager to arrange another meeting with Rhea.

Helen wished there were some way she could discourage their association, but there wasn’t. Not without alienating her daughter, anyway. She just wished she didn’t have the feeling that Rhea might be using her friendship with Melissa to find out more about Melissa’s mother.

It was a relief of sorts when Rhea dropped them at Aghios Petros and took her leave. Melissa insisted on going to see her off and Sam Campbell, who had offered the Greek girl a drink, which she had declined, now invited his daughter to join him as he checked on the grapes.

She realised it had just been an excuse for them to be alone together when he said abruptly, ‘You didn’t enjoy it, did you? Melissa obviously did, but you didn’t.’

Helen sighed. ‘Rhea and Melissa have more in common with each other,’ she replied, forcing a light tone. Then, once again taking the defensive, ‘Have you had a good day?’

‘Is it Milos?’ Her father was either astonishingly shrewd or Helen’s face was pathetically easy to read. ‘You’ve seen him today, haven’t you?’

‘How do you know that?’

Her father shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

Helen bit her lip. ‘Well, only for a short while,’ she admitted, not altogether truthfully. ‘He left for Athens—’

‘Not until this afternoon, surely,’ remarked her father mildly. ‘I spoke to him a couple of hours ago from the
helicopter.’ He paused. ‘He told me he’d taken you to Vassilios. Did you like it?’

Did she like it? Helen knew an almost hysterical desire to laugh. ‘I—thought it was an impressive house,’ she said at last, wishing she could escape all these questions. She had thought that she’d be free of them once Rhea had left.

‘Did Melissa go with you?’

‘I—no.’ Helen was obliged to be truthful. ‘She and Rhea went to the beach. I’d have liked to go with them.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘No.’

‘Because Milos invited you to see his house?’

Because Milos
insisted
she see his house, Helen wanted to answer tersely. But all she said was, ‘Yes,’ hoping Sam would leave it at that.

Of course, he didn’t. ‘You dislike Milos, don’t you?’ he said, picking a handful of tiny green grapes from the vine and handing them to her to taste. ‘I’m curious why. What happened between you two when he came to England? He must have done something to make you dislike him so much.’

‘I don’t dislike him.’ Helen used the grapes as an excuse to turn away. ‘Mmm, these are really delicious.’

‘They’re not sweet enough yet,’ said her father drily. ‘In another three months, they’ll taste altogether different.’ He hesitated. ‘I’d like to think you and Melissa would visit us again for the harvest. I hope it’s not my imagination, but I think Melissa has changed since she came here.’

At last, Helen could speak freely. ‘Oh, she has,’ she said eagerly. ‘I think she needed a masculine influence in her life. Since Richard—well, since Richard died, she has become increasingly rebellious. Although I have to admit, she wasn’t much different when he was alive.’

‘She never talks about him, you know.’

‘I know,’ Helen sighed. ‘That used to worry me, too.’

‘Mmm.’ Her father was thoughtful. ‘She doesn’t seem to have any problem in talking to Milos.’

‘She hardly knows him.’ Helen tried to sound dismissive.

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Sam was persistent. ‘You should have heard her chatting to him the other evening when you were talking to Alex. I think she likes him. A lot. I just wish you felt the same.’

‘Dad!’

‘What?’ He held up his hands in self defence. ‘Milos is a good friend of mine, and Maya’s. Is it so unreasonable that I’d like my daughter to show him some respect?’

‘I do respect him,’ said Helen shortly, glancing back towards the house. ‘I’m sorry if you think I’ve been rude. That wasn’t my intention.’

‘I didn’t say you’d been rude to him,’ Sam corrected her mildly. ‘But you must see how you react when I mention his name. You’re immediately on the defensive.’

Helen shook her head. ‘I haven’t noticed it,’ she muttered, but of course she had. ‘Look, I’m feeling rather sticky. I need a shower. Would you mind if I—?’

‘I think he’s attracted to you,’ Sam interrupted her, and Helen’s jaw dropped.

‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’

‘What’s ridiculous about it?’ Sam was unperturbed by her reactions. ‘It was he who invited you to San Rocco, wasn’t it? Not Rhea. Oh, yes, he told me all about it. He said he thought you might refuse the invitation if you’d known it had come from him. And you would have, wouldn’t you? You’ve just proved it.’

Helen didn’t know what to say. ‘I—all right, yes. I would have refused. I don’t think it’s a good idea to let Melissa think that we have anything in common with people like them.’

‘Milos and Rhea, you mean?’

‘Who else?’

‘But why?’ Sam’s tone gentled. ‘What’s your objection? Are you afraid of what people will say if you admit to being interested in another man less than a year after your husband was killed?’

‘No!’

‘So what is it?’

‘Oh, Dad!’ For the second time in as many minutes, Helen used the familiar form of address without even thinking about it. ‘Men like Milos Stephanides do not get involved with—with women like me.’

‘How right you are,’ declared a contemptuous voice from behind them, and Helen turned to find Maya striding towards them along the row of vines. The woman made some other vituperative comment in her own language and then, when her husband remonstrated with her, she added irritably, ‘
Kalia
, you are filling the girl’s head with nonsense, Samuel. How many times must Milos tell you he is not interested in marrying again. Nor in having meaningless affairs. Is that not good enough for you?’

Helen made her escape then, telling herself she was glad Maya had interrupted them. Despite her protestations, the temptation to listen to what her father had had to say had been appealing. She didn’t believe it; would never believe Milos had had anything more than a fleeting flirtation in mind when he’d first invited her to have a drink with him. But it was flattering nonetheless.

Of course, if her father knew the truth he’d have an entirely different outlook on the situation. And when he’d first mentioned Richard, and Melissa’s liking for Milos, she’d been half afraid he’d guessed who the child’s father was.

But she was worrying unnecessarily. The only way Sam could find out about that was if he learned it from her, and she couldn’t tell him. Not because she didn’t want to, she acknowledged painfully. But because he would insist on
telling Milos, and her whole relationship with her daughter would be put in jeopardy.

Was she being selfish? In her heart of hearts, she rather thought she was. But how could she risk losing the only child she was ever likely to have?

She wondered if she’d have surrendered herself to Milos so willingly if she’d known what a shattering effect he was going to have on her life. The answer was obvious, but at that time it hadn’t seemed such a big deal. Seduced by Milos’s lovemaking—and the champagne—she’d given herself to him with a joyful abandon she could hardly conceive of now. When had she acquired such a belief that what she was doing was right? She seemed to have forgotten everything she’d ever been taught about sex and its aftermath. She’d been warned often enough that condoms were not always foolproof.