Carol Marinelli – Greek Affairs: In His Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger / Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon's Bed / Bedded by the Greek Billionaire (страница 13)
‘My wife explained?’ Milos looked baffled now, but that didn’t stop him from using his hold on her wrist to jerk her closer. ‘My wife and I were separated long before I came to England. I don’t know where you’ve got your information from, but I can assure you that’s the truth.’
‘A pity your wife didn’t see it that way,’ Helen countered, uncomfortably aware of how close he was. ‘Let me go, Milos. Or do you want your sister to see how badly you treat your guests?’
‘Badly?’ Milos was scathing. ‘You don’t know how badly I want to treat you. And I don’t particularly care what Rhea thinks.’ His hot gaze was almost suffocating her now and she was unhappily aware that her body wasn’t responding as it should. He had only to touch her and she trembled. No matter how detached she tried to be, it seemed to have a will of its own. ‘I wonder how you’d react if you were naked,’ he added thickly. ‘Would that have any effect on your treacherous little soul?’
Helen swallowed, unable to prevent herself from looking up at him. ‘Would it have any effect on yours?’ she countered, not knowing where the provocative words came from, but unable to take them back.
‘Oh, yes.’ His response was immediate, and now he turned, imprisoning her against the wall behind her. His taut body pressed hers into the stones, letting her feel every bone and angle. ‘Now tell me that what we had meant nothing to you,’ he exhorted roughly. ‘Tell me you have no lasting memories of that night.’
Even as his tongue trailed a wet path along her jawline panic gripped her. What did he mean? What was he saying? Was all of this—this planned seduction designed to get her to confess?
Dear God, if it was true, he was clever. Because right then she was tempted—unbearably tempted—to give in. With one of his thighs wedged between her legs and her breasts crushed against his chest, it would be so easy to delude herself into thinking this meant something.
Thankfully, it didn’t happen. His mouth had barely brushed her lips when they heard the sound of voices heading in their direction. Melissa and Rhea were laughing and talking together as they came to find them and, despite what he’d said earlier, it was enough to cause Milos to utter a muffled oath and put a decent distance between them before the two girls appeared.
Helen didn’t recover so easily. Although the kiss had been brief, her face was flooded with colour and she was sure Melissa would notice. Her daughter always noticed everything.
But if she did, she said nothing, and it was left to Rhea to say with some concern, ‘Is it too hot for you out here, Helen?’
‘Um—no, I’m fine,’ murmured Helen quickly, but Rhea still looked doubtful.
‘We can sit in the shade,’ she said, nodding to where a trellis overhung with bougainvillea sheltered a wicker table and chairs. ‘Marisa is on her way with the tray.’
‘How nice.’
Helen was sure she must sound as out of it as she was feeling and she was glad when Melissa exclaimed, ‘Rhea and me are going down to the beach for a swim, Mum. You can come with us, if you like.’
‘That sounds inviting.’ Helen didn’t even have the will to correct her grammar, but then Milos intervened.
‘I’m planning on showing your mother a little of the island this morning,’ he inserted smoothly, and Helen was amazed at his arrogance. ‘I believe she’s seen very little of it so far.’
‘Oh, I think a swim sounds much more appealing than riding around in a hot car,’ Helen protested, not looking at him as she spoke. He thought he could just order her around and, remembering what he’d been doing before the two girls had arrived, she rather thought he was right.
‘You can swim at Vassilios,’ he declared, evidently determined to have his own way. ‘I’m sure Rhea and Melissa don’t need a chaperon, do you?’
Melissa quickly came to the same conclusion. ‘Yeah, that’s right, Mum,’ she said as Marisa appeared with the tray. And, obviously hoping to end the discussion, ‘Mmm, lemonade! I love that stuff.’
‘So—it’s agreed.’ Milos seated himself opposite Helen as Rhea took charge of the coffee-pot. ‘We’ll meet back here for lunch,
No one else was willing to argue with him, but after the girls had driven away in Rhea’s open-topped buggy Helen faced him angrily.
‘I’m not going with you, Milos,’ she said, aware that at least Marisa was within calling distance if she needed her. ‘If you insist on talking, we can. But we’ll do it here. Not at Vassilios.’
Milos regarded her from between lowered lids. ‘Are you afraid of me, Helen?’
Hell, yes, she thought. She was afraid of him. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘I just think it would be more—sensible if we stayed here,’ she insisted. ‘Melissa and Rhea won’t be long.’
‘Long enough,’ said Milos, crossing his arms over his body. ‘Come on. What have you got to lose?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
BEFORE he’d met Helen again, Milos had sworn to himself that he’d never let another woman get under his skin. All those years ago, when he’d let his senses get the better of his reason, he’d bitterly regretted it. He’d promised himself he’d never do anything like that again, and, although he hadn’t been a monk all these years, no woman had ever come close to achieving what Helen had achieved, almost without her being aware of it.
To begin with, he hadn’t wanted to believe he was never going to see her again. Even when she’d run out on him, he’d tried to find excuses for her, and it was only when she’d refused to speak to him that he’d had to accept that as far as she was concerned it was over.
He’d suffered agonies of remorse in the months after his return to Greece, not just because of his own feelings of betrayal, but because he’d let Sam down as well. It had taken years for him to regain his own self-respect and now he was in danger of losing it all over again.
He was such a fool! He’d barely brushed her mouth with his lips and he’d wanted to strip her clothes from her and bury himself in her hot little body. When Melissa and Rhea had interrupted them, he’d wanted to howl in frustration. Yet how could he feel anything but contempt for a woman who persisted in lying to him over and over again?
Now, with her sitting beside him in the front seat of his father’s elderly Aston Martin, he acknowledged that whatever happened he was never going to be indifferent to her. But he would deal with it, he told himself. He couldn’t let her ruin his life a second time.
He’d borrowed his father’s car because he’d ridden to San Rocco on the back of his Harley. He’d needed the unleashed power of the motorbike to clear his brain of the cobwebs that had clouded it when he’d woken up. Besides, he hadn’t known how he’d react having her spread thighs pressed against his butt. There was only so much a man could take.
Even so, there was no denying that being with her, feeling the heat of her warm body only inches from his, fired his blood. He was so stimulated, he could smell her—smell the flowery perfume he’d noticed once before, detect the tantalising scent of an arousal she’d already denied.
Taking her to Vassilios might be a mistake, too, he reflected. Did he really want to remember her there, at the heart of his existence? It was all right to tell himself that, at Vassilios, he was his own master. Only he realised how specious that description was.
The villa lay at the edge of a deep valley, where scarlet poppies and pink and white campion dotted the lush pastures where his horses grazed. The villa itself sprawled across a wide plateau, with white-railed paddocks surrounding it and a stream meandering under a stone bridge and down to a sandy shoreline.
Milos heard Helen catch her breath when she saw his home and was foolishly pleased by her reaction. He’d wanted her to like the place, particularly as she’d been so reluctant to come here. Besides, he was proud of it. The house had been built to his own design.
Stelios appeared from around the back of the building as they drove up to the house. The old man and his wife, Andrea, looked after the place for him. In recent years, Stelios had become troubled with arthritis, and Milos had had to employ a couple of younger men to do the rough work. But the old man was very proud of his position and he never let any of the younger employees forget he was the boss.
Now, his beady eyes fastened on Helen as they drew up, and Milos guessed he was already speculating about their relationship. After all, he seldom brought any women to Vassilios.
Stelios spoke only a little English, and although Milos guessed the old man expected him to introduce his guest, he didn’t. Right now, he had more important things on his mind.
Milos nodded his thanks and then, seeing that Helen had already alighted from the car, he spread one hand to indicate she should precede him up the shallow steps and into the house.
They entered a large atrium that rose through two floors to a circular glazed ceiling above. The staircase giving access to the upper floor fanned out from its centre, while open pocket doors on either side of the foyer revealed elegantly furnished living and dining areas.