Greek Affairs: In His Bed. Kate Walker

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      ‘Oh, I’m all right,’ she said ruefully, dragging her eyes from his. ‘My—er—my jeans took the worst of it.’

      Milos’s eyes dropped to her knees and Helen’s stomach did a nervous somersault. There was such a look of tenderness in his gaze and her limbs turned to liquid when he captured her hands in both of his.

      ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, and for a moment Helen hadn’t the first idea what he was talking about. When he’d touched her shoulder earlier, she’d been startled by her reaction, but that was as nothing compared to the way she felt when he raised one of her hands to his lips. He bestowed a fleeting kiss on her knuckles before turning her hand over and caressing her palm. His thumb massaged the moist centre in a deliberately sensual motion and she felt the heat he was generating spreading to every extremity. It was an almost physical invasion and she hardly dared to identify its effect.

      Her eyes had been drawn back to his, but now she tried to look away. She didn’t want him to see how vulnerable she was, how easily he had breached barriers she had had years to erect.

      She didn’t understand it. She’d been Richard’s girlfriend for almost two years and he’d never come close to arousing her in this way. Oh, they’d kissed and petted, of course they had, and just occasionally she’d been tempted to find out what all the fuss was about. But she’d always been in control of her emotions and Richard had known she didn’t sleep around.

      Yet now, the melting sensation in her stomach was causing all sorts of problems. There was a tightness in her breasts, a moistness between her legs, and the blood that had been pounding through her veins now seemed to have congealed just beneath her skin. She was hot and cold by turns, sweating one minute and shivering the next, while a wave of goose-bumps enveloped her in a rippling cloak of excitement.

      She was beginning to realise how reckless she had been in coming here, yet she also knew Milos wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want him to. Despite her earlier doubts, she thought she could trust him. The trouble was, she didn’t trust herself.

      As if sensing her confusion, Milos chose that moment to release her hands. ‘You are very sweet, agape mou,’ he said, patting her knee with what she recognised was genuine affection. ‘And so innocent,’ he continued, looking into her flushed face. ‘You make me feel things I shouldn’t feel.’

      Helen’s lips parted. ‘What things?’ she asked naïvely, but she knew. She just wanted him to say them, to admit that she wasn’t the only one who was feeling the intimacy between them.

      ‘You don’t want to know.’

      ‘I do. I do.’ She gazed up at him eagerly. ‘Please; you have to tell me.’ She paused and then added provocatively, ‘Do you think I’m attractive?’

      Dear God! Helen almost cringed then. Where had that come from? She’d thought the meal had banished the worst effects of the champagne from her system, but she’d been wrong. Terribly wrong.

      Milos, however, chose to answer her. ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I find you very attractive.’

      ‘Was that why you wanted to see me again?’ In for a penny, in for a pound, thought Helen recklessly. ‘I thought you wanted to talk about my father.’

      ‘I did. I should,’ he amended, a little roughly. ‘But—we’ve talked about other things.’

      ‘Me,’ said Helen ruefully. ‘Were you bored?’

      ‘Very,’ he said drily. ‘That’s why I asked you to have dinner with me.’

      Helen bit her lip. ‘You don’t talk about yourself much, do you?’ she ventured with a frown, and he shrugged.

      ‘I am very boring,’ he said flatly. ‘And now I think I ought to take you home.’

      Helen protested. ‘It’s early yet.’ She glanced towards the sound system. ‘Couldn’t we play some more music? Maybe dance again?’

      ‘I think not.’

      ‘Why?’

      Milos said something then that she thought wasn’t very complimentary, but almost against his will, it seemed, he didn’t get up from the sofa.

      Instead, he hesitated only a moment before lifting his hand and slipping it under the hair at the back of her neck. His strong fingers first massaged and then gripped her nape, forcing her to look at him.

      ‘You know exactly why I have to take you home,’ he told her roughly. ‘Why we have to put an end to this right now.’

      Helen pressed her lips together. ‘Because you’re tired of me?’ she asked ingenuously. ‘Because you don’t want to dance with me again?’

      Milos’s jaw hardened. ‘That’s not what I want to do, and you know it.’

      Helen angled her neck beneath his hand. ‘That sounds ominous.’

      ‘Helen!’ He spoke harshly. ‘Don’t make this any harder than it already is. You’re just an eighteen-year-old student, while I—I’m not.’

      She was actually seventeen, but Helen didn’t think this was a good time to say that. But it did explain why he’d offered her champagne.

      ‘You’re not old,’ she said instead. ‘And I’m not exactly inexperienced, you know.’

      Milos breathed deeply. ‘Where are you going with this?’

      ‘Where do you want to go?’

      She was being deliberately provocative, but she trembled when his fingers tightened on her nape.

      He was going to kiss her, she thought unsteadily, hoping she wouldn’t regret this. She wanted him to kiss her, she told herself. She wanted to have some point of reference so that when she let Richard kiss her again she’d be able to gauge which of them was the best.

      But Milos didn’t kiss her. He just stared at her with tormented eyes, and she felt herself shrinking beneath his dark disturbed gaze.

      ‘I know you don’t mean to be cruel,’ he said grimly. ‘But, Helen, this isn’t a game. Whatever experience you think you’ve had, forget it. You’re going to hate me if I take you at your word.’

      ‘I’m not.’ The protest burst from her, a need to reassure him now taking precedence over her own fears. ‘I like you, Milos. And I thought you liked me. What could possibly be wrong with that?’

      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 СКАЧАТЬ