the salt from his skin, and her hand reaching down to touch him—take him. She was oblivious to everything but the scent, the taste and the tremendous burning, quivering hunger she felt for him. Theo knocked her hand away and, gripping her hips, he lifted her, and with the first fierce thrust of his manhood deep into her hot, tight body Willow cried out, her long legs wrapping around his waist.
He stilled for a moment and she looked at him with fevered pleading blue eyes, her inner muscles clenching around him poised on the agonising brink of orgasm. His face was a rigid mask of pure tension.
‘Are you burning now, Willow?’
She didn’t answer him, didn’t need to as, with a primitive instinct as old as time, she dug her nails into his satin-smooth skin and gave a wickedly wanton upward thrust of her hips. His control snapped, and he plunged hard and deep with a driving intensity that tipped Willow over the edge in a tumultuous release. She clung to him as wave after wave of incredible sensations hit her and she cried out his name. Then the world fell away as his great body also shuddered violently in the awesome pleasure of his own climax.
For a long moment they lay joined together, Theo with his face buried in the curve of her throat and shoulder, and the only sound in the room their ragged breathing. Willow, still trembling in the aftermath, realised she was clinging to him. What had she done? a tiny voice of conscience queried in her bemused brain. But she had no time to ponder this question as incredibly she felt Theo growing again inside her and they did it all over again…
This time more slowly, silently. A mutual exploration of the senses, where time had no meaning. All that mattered was the two sweat-slicked bodies gliding together, moving over and under with exploring hands and mouths, and ever-increasing passion until they blended again into one mutual, heart-stopping climax.
A long time later Theo lifted up on his elbow, and stared down at her. Damn it! How did this dark-haired witch do it to him? She infuriated and inflamed him into the rashest of actions. He had not meant to lose control, but he had… so much so that no thought of protection had entered his head.
His jet-black eyes roamed over her flushed face, and he reached out a hand and brushed some stray tendrils of her raven hair back from her cheek. Her love-swollen lips parted in a beautiful smile and she looked almost innocent as his gaze moved down the long, slender length of her body.
He must be going weak in the head… There was nothing innocent about her. He could still feel the effect of her incredible long legs wrapped around him. He had thought she was sex on legs the very first time he had seen her, and she had been everything he remembered and much more. She was a perfect fit for him, she was fire and light in his arms, and he grimaced. Willow was an incredibly sensuous woman, she couldn’t help herself, and he suddenly wondered how many other men there had been in the past nine years.
He jerked up into a sitting position, not liking where his thoughts were taking him. It was enough for him that he had her now. ‘We will marry before the end of the week,’ he grated, and leapt off the bed to stand frowning down at her. ‘We will tell everyone in the morning, a small civil ceremony—’
‘Wait a minute,’ Willow cut in, shock cutting through the euphoria of the past hour. She sat up and hastily pulled the cotton sheet over her breasts, suddenly embarrassingly aware of her nakedness. Not that Theo seemed to be bothered, she thought as he stood towering over her apparently totally at ease with his nudity. ‘I never agreed to marry you, Theo.’
Theo did not even attempt to argue the point. He did not need to. He never missed a chance to turn a mistake into a success in the business world, and he instantly grasped the opportunity to do the same now in his private life.
‘You don’t have a choice any more, Willow.’ His black eyes, a gleam of mocking triumph visible in their inky depths, clashed with her stunned blue. ‘One illegitimate child is enough for any family, and as you may have been aware we did not use any protection,’ he emphasised in a deep cynical drawl. ‘You have no chance of getting the morning-after pill here so, unless you are already on the pill…?’ He let the words hang in the air, not needing to say any more; the shocked expression on her lovely face said it all.
Ashen-faced, Willow stared up at him. ‘You bastard,’ she swore. ‘You did it deliberately. But it makes no difference.’ She had managed to raise Stephen on her own and she could, if she had to, do it again. ‘I am not going to marry you.’
One dark brow arched sardonically before he turned to pick up his robe from the edge of the bed. He slipped it on and tied the belt firmly around his waist.
He had just dropped a bombshell and then simply turned his back on her. Frightened and furious, Willow yelled, ‘Answer me, damn you.’
Slowly he turned back to face her, his handsome face devoid of all expression. ‘You never asked a question,’ he said with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. ‘Feel free to believe what you like, Willow, but know this—’ the eyes that met hers were cold and as hard as jet ‘—we will marry next week. I told you before you owe me eight years, and I meant it.’ Her blood chilled at the icy determination in his tone. ‘You and Stephen will be staying here in Greece after the wedding so the boy has a chance to learn his own language and something of his heritage. We can discuss the minor details in the morning.’
The full enormity of what he had just said hit her like a punch in the stomach. The eager attentive lover of moments ago had changed into an autocratic tyrant laying down the law as if he were King. But what really frightened Willow was the knowledge that Theo might very well be right. She could be pregnant again with his child. Dear heaven, the only other time Theo had touchèd her Stephen had been the result, even with protection! But then common sense and maturity prevailed. She had finished her period only three days ago, so unless she was the unluckiest woman on the planet she should be safe. She was determined that she was not going to be forced into marriage by any man.
‘Get some sleep—you look worn out.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she slashed back.
‘Mine, of course,’ he drawled with a sardonic lift of an ebony eyebrow. ‘But don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it, you were with me every step of the way, and unless you want to continue where we left off I suggest you rest. We will talk in the morning.’
‘There is nothing to talk about,’ she shot back furiously. ‘You can’t make me marry you and I won’t,’ and she picked up the pillow and threw it at him.
He fielded it with one hand and gave a short derisive laugh, totally ignoring her vehement refusal. ‘Keep your passion for the marriage bed, Willow,’ and, spinning on his heel, he left.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A CHEERFUL sound of raised voices and laughter broke through Willow’s deep sleep. Yawning, she opened her eyes, and just as quickly closed them, dazzled by the light streaming into the room. Slowly she opened them again and looked around the sunlit room, and groaned as she remembered where she was, and why.
The sound of splashing water followed by Stephen’s voice screaming with delight simply made her feel worse. She suddenly remembered in all too vivid detail what she had done in this bed last night with Theo.
Oh, my God! She groaned, and rolled over and buried her face in the pillows. How could she have been so weak as to fall into his arms again like a sex-starved fool? She could never face Theo again, but she was going to have to, for Stephen’s sake if nothing else.
She must have overslept, not so surprising as she had barely slept for the past two days. With a heavy
