by Anne Mather
‘Did you mean what you said?’ she asked, over her shoulder. ‘About me taking a dip in the pool?’
Milos stifled a groan, and then, his jaw clenching, he said, ‘If that’s what pleases you.’
‘It would please me if you would take me back to your parents’ villa. But as I’m here …’ She turned back to look at the pool again. ‘Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my swim-suit.’
‘And that’s a problem?’
He couldn’t resist the taunt, but she’d had it her own way for far too long.
‘Not for you, perhaps,’ she said tersely, and he was pleased to see he’d disconcerted her. ‘I’m not used to taking off my clothes in front of strange men.’
‘Nor am I,’ he remarked mildly and saw the way her lips compressed.
‘Nor in front of strange women,’ she retorted. ‘I have a little more self-respect these days.’
The barb in the tail of the sentence didn’t escape him, but he had no desire to cut their time together short. He nodded towards the row of wooden cabanas at the end of the pool deck. ‘I think you’ll find everything you need in there.’
Doubt momentarily crossed her sun-kissed features, but then she kicked off her high heels and started down the stone steps. She glanced back at him once, and he despised himself for the rush of emotion he felt when she half smiled at him. Theos, this wasn’t supposed to be a pleasure trip. Here he was, humouring her, when he knew she was deliberately evading his questions.
Yet as he watched her descend the steps their fractured past was not the first thing he thought of. Her skirt swung about her long legs and he knew he couldn’t wait to see her in one of the skimpy suits Rhea kept here for her own use. But sooner or later she was going to have to answer his questions, he assured himself. All he had to do was exercise a little patience, and there was no law that said he couldn’t enjoy the process.
She emerged from the largest cabana a few minutes later. He’d half expected her to have second thoughts when she saw the swimsuits, but she evidently thought a swim could buy her a little more time.
The suit she’d chosen was a dark blue and white outfit, its close-fitting top barely skimming her midriff, the bikini briefs cut high on her hip. Faint colour, which couldn’t be blamed on the sun, tinged her cheeks when she found him waiting for her, but she swiftly moved to the side of the pool and executed a perfect dive into the water.
Milos was impressed. It was soon obvious that she was a strong swimmer. Instead of surfacing after the dive, she swam an impressive distance underwater before her head appeared again.
Milos was relieved to see her. Even though he’d been sure she was all right, it was good to have his confidence restored. He watched her strike out strongly for the other end of the pool before somersaulting a turn and starting back. Her body cleaved surely through the water, her arms rising and falling in an almost hypnotic rhythm.
Despite himself, Milos descended the steps so that he was in her line of vision. She couldn’t help but see him waiting for her, his feet parted, his arms folded across his chest. If it was a gesture of defence, he was unaware of it. He wanted to disconcert her, to let her feel the insistent pull she was having on his senses.
Helen ignored him, however. When she reached the end where he was standing, she simply repeated the somersault she’d turned at the other end of the pool and swam back the way she’d come.
Milos was infuriated. The heat around the pool was palpable and he cast an irritated glance towards the sun. He must be crazy, he thought, exposing himself to possible sunstroke just to make a point. She was determined to ignore him, it seemed. He would have to think of something else.
He had already unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it free of his jeans before he acknowledged she was driving him crazy. Kicking off the boots he’d originally worn to ride the Harley, he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs. Kicking the jeans off, too, he hooked his thumbs into his boxers. And then hesitated. In deference to his guest’s sensibilities, Milos didn’t go any further. As she swam steadily towards him he dived into the water, emerging only inches from her stroking arms.
The splash he made caused her to lose her rhythm. She flailed about for a few moments before she realised what he’d done. Treading water, she stared indignantly at him, almost as if he had no right to use the pool, before turning abruptly towards the steps.
‘Wait!’
Milos caught her arm as she would have swum away from him. She struggled for a moment before realising she was wasting her time and Milos took advantage of her acquiescence to bring her back to him. He’d let her go when he chose, not her, he thought grimly, but already his flesh was betraying him.
He couldn’t help but be aware of how soft her skin felt beneath his fingers. Even the slight pressure he was exerting was bringing the dusky blush of colour to a limb that was as smooth and fine as silk. When she looked up at him, her water-spiked lashes caused her eyes to shimmer so that he couldn’t see what she was thinking. But he certainly knew what her nearness was doing to him.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded, and he wondered if he only imagined the faint tremor in her voice. Then, with a suddenly indrawn breath, ‘Are you wearing anything at all?’
Her words were so unexpected that Milos felt a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘What kind of a question is that?’
‘A fairly simple one,’ she retorted, sweeping back her wet hair with her free hand. ‘I didn’t see you go into the cabana.’
‘That’s because I didn’t,’ Milos acknowledged, noticing how the water had darkened her blonde hair so that it clung to her head like a golden cap. ‘Does it matter?’
He could see that she wanted to object, but she was determined not to give him any advantage. ‘Not to me,’ she replied tightly, using her legs to ensure she kept a distance between them. ‘It’s not as if it’s something I haven’t seen before.’
Milos resented that. And whatever she said, he knew she wasn’t as blasé about his proximity as she would like him to believe. Nevertheless, he was still prepared to be generous. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But just to reassure you, I can tell you I’m not totally naked.’
‘Big deal.’ She made a careless gesture. ‘But just for the record, I don’t care.’ She shrugged. ‘And you have to admit, it’s just the sort of stunt you would pull.’
‘So you think I’m lying?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘But you think it,’ he snapped, suppressing the urge to shake her. He took a deep breath. ‘You can trust me. I’m not lying.’
‘Whatever.’
The careless dismissal was humiliating. And when she turned her head away, looking resignedly towards the steps, his temper snapped. He’d been more than patient so far, he assured himself. But she was determined to provoke him.
Without really thinking of the consequences, he jerked her towards him. Wrapping one of his legs about both of hers, he brought her into intimate contact with his lower body. Then, scowling down at her, he said, ‘Now do you believe me?’
He’d taken her by surprise and her initial response was to wrap a startled arm about his shoulders to keep her balance. Her fingers clutched wildly at the hair at the back of his neck, her slim body curling instinctively into his.
He felt his own arousal only seconds before she felt it, too. Tiny globules of moisture were trembling on the slopes of her breasts that were only inches below his gaze. She was so close in fact, that he could feel the betraying thrust of her nipples nudging his chest, the taut fabric of the vest top only adding to the intimacy.
Suddenly, he wanted to see her naked. His thumbs itched to hook inside the sexy top and pull it forcefully to her waist. He knew the bikini briefs would offer no obstruction. It would be a simple matter to dispose of them in the same way.
He tried to steady his roiling senses. This was not why he’d brought her here, he reminded himself. Getting overheated wasn’t going to solve anything.
With thoughts like these filling his head, he should have resisted going any further. A saner man—a more calculating man—would have used the situation to his advantage and asked her outright who Melissa’s father was. In her present state of agitation, he doubted she’d have had time to fabricate an answer, and even if she’d denied his involvement her reaction would have given her away.
Or so he believed.
But instead, when she grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back, all he saw was red. With her hot breath panting in his ear and the spaghetti straps falling down her arms and pulling her top perilously close to total exposure, all he could think about was retaliation. The uncontrollable rush of blood to his groin was the final straw and all thought of letting her go became academic.
‘Ya Theos, keep still,’ he muttered, making a futile attempt to control his emotions. But when he looked into her flushed face, he was lost. With her soft lips parted and a hectic blush rising in her cheeks, she was irresistible, and he knew it. With a groan of defeat, he gave in to the driving need inside him and, bending his head, he captured her lips with his.
CHAPTER TEN
HELEN’S lips parted beneath his, and, moving his hand to the back of her neck, Milos deepened the kiss. Pushing his tongue between her teeth, he completely forgot that it was only his efforts that were keeping them afloat. Without anything to keep them buoyant, they sank to the bottom of the pool, their mouths still glued together.
It was an incredible experience. Milos knew he had never felt anything like the dizzying exultation that filled his head when Helen’s fingers curled around his nape, denoting her submission, and not even the buzzing in his ears, reminding him of his lack of oxygen, prevented an urgent surge of need from sweeping over him.
His hand trailed down her body, grazing the hard peaks of her breasts before fastening on the slender bones of her pelvis. He parted his legs, bringing her more fully into him, letting her feel the turgid pressure of his erection. He rubbed himself against her, but his lungs were labouring for air, and, judging by Helen’s submissive behaviour, she wasn’t about to save them. With a feeling of regret, he pushed down with his feet and sent them rising steadily to the surface.
Within seconds she had torn herself away from him. Splashing wildly through the water, she made for the steps out of the pool. And, because Milos took rather longer to recover, she’d stumbled out of the water before he could stop her.
She paused once, bending forward as if the effort had defeated her. She was coughing, her hands braced on her knees, trying to suck air into her burning lungs. Then she turned to give him a tortured look.
‘You—crazy—fool,’ she got out with difficulty, her voice made husky by her distress. ‘What in God’s name did you think you were doing?’
Milos took a deep breath and swam smoothly to the side. ‘Well, not trying to drown you,’ he said wearily as she retreated up the steps. ‘Stop panicking. No harm has been done.’
‘Just—stay away from me,’ she told him unsteadily, but he could tell from the way her eyes flicked to the row of cabanas that she was undecided what to do next. Safety might lie in the villa, but her clothes were in the cabana.
Spreading his arms wide, to indicate she had nothing to fear from him, Milos climbed out of the pool. Unlike her, apparently, he was still suffering the after-effects of that kiss, and like her he took a few moments to steady his breathing.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last, though it pained him to say it. ‘I suppose you think that shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Damn right!’ Her voice quivered, but he could see she was determined not to back down.
Milos lifted his shoulders. ‘Then you shouldn’t have provoked me.’
Helen gave an indignant snort. ‘Because I asked if you were wearing—swimming gear?’ she exclaimed hotly.
‘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 shoul
ders. 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?’
