swayed forwards, melting against Theo’s hard form, and his arms came out to enclose her, imprison her along the length of him. Skin seemed to blend with skin, arms, legs, bodies entangled. Their heartbeats lurched, quickened, raced, thudding in time with each other, drowning out all other sounds beyond the pulse of molten blood in their veins. Their only breathing was the quickly snatched gasps of urgent passion, grabbed at frantically to avoid oblivion, but allowing for only the briefest moments away from the clinging, teasing, openly demanding mouth of the other.
‘Skye—beauty—agape mou…’
Theo’s voice was thick and rough with lust, his hands as clumsy as they tugged at the barrier of soft towelling that came between them, pulling the insecure knot loose in seconds, the white folds tumbling to the ground at their feet.
‘You may have had enough but I have not. I want this—’
Skye’s mouth opened under his in a gasp of shocked delight as his hand skimmed over her straining body, heat searing through the white Lycra, inflaming her hunger even more.
‘And I want this…’
That searching hand found the swell of one breast where the betraying nipple pulsed against the restraint of the clinging material, his thumb catching and circling the hardened bud, making her moan aloud in wild expression of her need.
‘Oh, yes, this.’
It was a low, dark undertone, with fiendish laughter running through it. Laughter that darkened even further as his urgent fingers tugged at the strap of her costume, wrenching it down over her shoulder, imprisoning her arm against her side and exposing the white slope of her upper breast.
While the hard warmth of his hand supported the soft weight, his hungry mouth sought the exposed flesh, kissing, licking, even nipping lightly at the smooth skin until Skye flung back her head and moaned aloud.
‘This is what I want,’ he muttered harshly against her. ‘And it’s what you want too. What we both want more than all the world. It’s what’s between us, lady. You can’t fight it, and neither can I.’
The only response Skye could manage was a wild, indeterminate sound that could have been either acceptance or denial, but clearly Theo took it as acceptance.
‘Come with me, my lovely. Come with me now…’
‘No!’
Skye had no idea just what it was that jolted her out of the heated fantasy into which she’d fallen. She didn’t know if it was some faint, unexpected sound that intruded in her mental delirium, or the way that Theo’s mouth had left her breast or the sudden cooling touch of a tiny breeze that wafted its way across her exposed skin. She only knew that some unexpected sneaking coldness had slipped into her mind, dousing the heat that raged, stunning her into shocked realisation of just what she was doing.
‘I said no!’
Desperation gave her a strength she hadn’t known she possessed so that she could push him away, hard, the force of the movement driving him almost to the edge of the pool. But he recovered in a second, whirling back to face her, black eyes glittering in cold rage.
‘What do you mean—?’
‘Oh, come on!’
The frantic tattoo her heart was beating at the thought of the narrow escape she had just had, the shivering sensation brought by the realisation of how close she had come to total disaster, made Skye’s voice range up and down in panic, but at least she sounded strong enough and determined enough to make him stop and listen to her.
‘What part of no don’t you understand? You may be Greek, Kyrios Antonakos, but your English isn’t as bad as that. You know exactly what I meant!’
‘I know what you said,’ Theo flung back venomously. ‘But that isn’t exactly what you meant. And I don’t need to know any English at all to differentiate between the two. I have other ways of interpreting that.’
‘Other ways?’
For a moment Skye simply gaped in blank confusion, but then he gave a slow, deliberate glance from those polished jet eyes, away from her face and dropping down to rest on her still-exposed breast—and the betraying tightness of the pouting nipple, blatant evidence to anyone who wanted to look of the hunger he had roused in her. A hunger that was still clawing at her insides, making it almost impossible to think beyond the burning sense of need.
But she had to think. She had to stop feeling and force her mind to concentrate on what really mattered. She had almost ruined everything. Almost destroyed her chances of rescuing her family from the total disaster that faced them. The man before her, tall and strong, with the sunlight playing on the silken black hair, the bronzed skin of his face and chest, might be everything she most wanted in the world right now, but she had to force that weak, indulgent feeling from her mind and think.
And what she had to think was that this must not, could not, happen.
If she wanted to save her family, then Theo Antonakos was forbidden to her.
And so she wrenched up the dangling strap of the swimming costume, wincing in distress as the white Lycra scraped over the sensitised tip of her aching breast. Pulling the little clothing she had as high as it would go, she forced herself to face Theo’s cold-eyed fury with what she hoped looked like a degree of calm she was far from feeling.
‘I don’t give a damn about your “other ways”!’ she managed, the brutal control she was exerting over her voice making it sound high and tight, and absolutely cold with rejection. ‘The one thing you listen to is what I say! And what I say is no—got that? N-O. No! I’m saying no and I mean no.’
For one fearful second there was such a maelstrom of rage in his face, blazing in his eyes, that she actually feared he would ignore her and reach out, grab her once again. She had nerved herself for flight when she saw him recollect himself, shake his head faintly and impose a degree of control over his actions that she had to admire even as she welcomed it with a shaking rush of relief.
But if Theo had controlled his physical impulses, he had not yet restrained his tongue.
‘You say that now, sweetheart,’ he declared with brutal cynicism, ‘but that no was a long time coming. So tell me, my lovely, what was it that forced the rejection from you? Was it the thought that someone else might see us—your mama perhaps?’
‘Mama?’ Skye echoed blankly, unable to believe he had used the word. Had he really said…?
‘Because if that’s what it was, my angel, then I’m certain you don’t need to worry. I’m sure she’d be perfectly happy for us both.’
‘Happy?’
Just what was he talking about? Every word confused her even more. What had her mother to do with this? Did Theo know…?
‘Keep it in the family, so to speak. Your mother, my father—you and me.’
Your mother, my father…
Skye’s thoughts reeled sickeningly. He thought her mother was his father’s fiancée! He actually believed that she was here with her mother and that her mother was the one about to marry
