Beauty and the Greek (12 page)

‘No, not fine.' The astonishing sensation of being filled by Theo was a million miles from
fine
—it was shattering and incredible. It was pleasure on a mind-numbing scale. ‘This is…
you
are…oh, God, just so good, Theo.'

The awareness that he was her first lover primitively excited and horrified Theo in equal measure, though, as she squirmed beneath him, excitement took the upper hand.

‘Slowly,' he urged, easing himself from the tight silken grip of her body.

Beth's instinctive cry of protest was almost immediately transformed into a fractured moan of startled pleasure as he slid back into her.

She lifted her hips instinctively to meet him as Theo repeated the process over and over until the heat was every
where inside her—under her skin, the soles of her feet—her entire body was taken over by the process.

She buried her face in his neck, biting into the muscled column as he drove deeper and deeper until she felt she would dissolve; her body simply could not withstand this level of mind-shattering pleasure.

Tormented by the feeling that she was reaching for some ultimate pleasure just out of reach, Beth's gasps and cries grew hoarser as she sank deeper into her own body, swept away by the wild exhilaration roaring in her blood.

When the first contraction hit her Beth stopped breathing as every cell in her body silently imploded. She gasped, every sinew and muscle from her toes to her scalp contracting as the successive waves of pleasure swept her away.

Above her, she was distantly aware of Theo reaching the same plateau and exploding hotly within her.

Beth felt no desire for him to move as he lay on top of her, breathing hard. She enjoyed the intimacy, the weight of him, the musky scent of sex on his body.

The aftershocks still hit her intermittently, causing her to say his name and tighten her grip on his shoulders.

She could feel the waves of exhaustion that threatened to sweep over her but she was still very awake when he finally lifted his head and looked deep into her eyes.

She smiled and sighed, running a hand along the abrasive roughness of his jaw and whispered, ‘Thank you.'

Theo watched her eyelids squeeze closed, saw the dampness seeping out from beneath the delicate folds and felt a wave of violent self-disgust.

He may not have known that she was a virgin—though, wise after the event, he could now see there had been strong indications—but he had known that she was vulnerable. That had not stopped him slaking his hunger at her expense.

She had needed hugging and holding, not sex.

The weight of his guilt lay heavily on his shoulders as Theo lifted her into his arms. She slept on, not stirring as he carried her curled trustingly in his arms—a trust that he did not deserve.

God, he hadn't even taken off his clothes; she had received none of the gentle consideration at his hands that a woman deserved the first time. No gentle seduction, candles, music—just thrown down on a dusty sofa and taken with a hungry impatience that made no concession to her inexperience.

By the time he had entered the first three rooms on the first floor—none showed any sign of habitation—in Theo's mind, his behaviour had become little better than that of a wild animal.

In the fourth, his luck turned. It held a single bed covered in a patchwork quilt, a bookcase and a chest of drawers; the rest of the clothes hung on a rail.

Another scan revealed that, though he was in a woman's room, there was no mirror, not even a reflective surface. Clearly, vanity was not one of Elizabeth's besetting sins and if she had ever gone through a rebellious period in her formative years there was no sign of it in this room; it was neat, tidy and, yes…virginal.

Forced to remove a battered stuffed toy that had seen better days before he could pull back the covers to lay her on the bed, Theo felt even more of a defiler of innocence.

She opened her eyes sleepily as he laid her down and continued to watch him though half closed eyes as he peeled off his clothes and joined her.

She curled up against him, her silky hair tickling his nose as she tucked her head under his chin and whispered, ‘Thank you for staying,' before falling deeply asleep.

Theo could not recall the last time he had spent the entire
night with a woman; he was still awake when she woke around two a.m. Clearly emerging from a nightmare, she clutched at him, shaking, her body sweat-slick with fear that cooled as he stroked her.

The soothing became something else but this time Theo kept a tight rein on his passion. He made love to her slowly, the long slow burn testing his control but ensuring that, when it came, satisfaction was correspondingly intense.

Theo had never known pleasure like it and, in truth, he felt almost as marvellous as she told him he was.

The last time it was he who woke to Beth's hands on his body, her soft voice whispering huskily in his ear that this time he was hers.

This was not a plan he had a problem with.

W
HEN
Beth awoke the next morning Theo was already dressed. He sat, not a hair out of place, in the window seat, his suit somehow creaseless, his tie neatly knotted.

She looked at him and the control Theo had taken for granted his entire adult life slipped away, just like that. He had decided how to play it, had spent the early hours working out all possible scenarios in his head.

Now it was gone and he didn't have the faintest idea what he was going to say.

It was a minefield.

She had sex with him to block out the pain and because she was in a big empty house; she was hurting and she didn't want to be alone.

Not the most flattering reasons anyone had ever slept with him, but Elizabeth, he reflected with a tight smile, had a knack for deflating his ego.

His planned speech had run something along the lines of
when the pain goes away I will still be here and so will the sex and it will get better—the sex and the pain
.

It was not exactly a proposal but it was the nearest
thing
he had got to commitment in a long time and last night was the nearest he had got to magic—ever.

‘You're awake.'

Beth watched him get to his feet and walk, tall and virile,
towards her. All the time she watched, inside her head a rerun of the previous night was playing.

He was a foot away when her face contorted in a grimace of sick self-disgust and she rolled over.

The guilt hit her.

It was like running full pelt into a brick wall.

Theo lost some colour as he watched her hit the pillow with her fist—presumably it was a stand in for his face. He had been anticipating some recrimination, but this…?

He opened his mouth and closed it again. How could he speak up in his defence when his behaviour had been, by definition, indefensible?

Beth stopped hitting the pillow and buried her head in it. She had nothing but utter contempt for her actions; she felt cheap. Her behaviour last night was a total betrayal of the lady who had taught her that if a person did not have self-respect she had nothing.

Gran, the one person in the world she cared for more than any other, had died and what had she done—cry, weep, spend some time remembering what a marvellous person she had been?

No, she'd shown her respect by ripping off Theo's clothes and begging him to have sex with her.

What sort of person did that?

She had never imagined that sex for the first time would involve virtually begging the man involved! No, there was no
virtually
involved—she had begged him.

Her first time and it had been sympathy sex.

And why Theo? She'd ruined her chance of having any sort of relationship with him, she realised. That thought was followed fast by the shocking realisation that she had wanted one.

The last couple of days she had learned several things, beside the fact that she was basically a cheap tart. Her
supposed love for Andreas had been nothing more than a romantic crush; she had filled the blank in her life, not with a real man but a safer option—a man who was never going to return her feelings.

Then he had, or might have if she had wanted him to, and she had realised that the man she really wanted was his brother. A man even more unattainable, a man who had got under her skin from day one, a man who had always dominated her thoughts, even when he wasn't around.

A man she had ended up falling for.

Then she had begged him for sympathy sex.

Considering what she thought of herself this morning, she could only imagine what he was thinking of her!

‘Will you just go away?' she yelled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

‘Elizabeth?'

Beth gritted her teeth; she had to face him at some point. Dragging her hair back from her face with both hands, she rolled onto her back.

The direction of his gaze alerted her to her bare shoulders. Blushing, she dragged the sheet up to her chin.

‘A little late for modesty, do you not think?'

Beth's eyes swept downwards, not seeing the smile that accompanied his words. She took a deep breath. ‘Last night—'

‘You were upset and—'

Beth cut him off with a wave of her hand; she was not interested in making excuses for herself. ‘That doesn't matter. I'm just sorry it ever happened,' she sniffed.

The blood drained from his face.

Beth squeezed her eyes tight shut. ‘I realise that respect is necessary in any sort of relationship.' She added with a laugh that sounded like a gulp, ‘Not that we had a relation
ship as such.' And Theo would never respect her after last night, she thought sadly.

‘We had sex.'

She flashed him a look. Did he think she'd forgotten? Beth half wished she had, but the experience would stay with her for ever, the impossibly perfect sex that she could never hope to recapture.

Actually, it was very possible she might never have any sort of sex ever again because the thought of anyone but Theo touching her that way made her feel ill.

‘I really am ashamed and wish I could change it; I
really
wish
you
hadn't been here last night.'

The muscle beside Theo's mouth jerked as his jaw tightened. ‘Who would you have liked to be here?' As if he needed to ask.

She looked at him in astonishment. The white-hot anger in his eyes made her recoil as he gritted through clenched teeth, ‘Or is it a case of anyone but me? I may not be the man you wanted to be your first lover but I damn well am, and nothing will ever change that.' He threw the words at her like a challenge, turned on his heel and walked away.

 

It was a fortnight since the funeral and Beth had been back at work for ten days before she saw a member of the Kyriakis family—it was Daria.

She breezed into the office with a flustered Hannah, the girl who had transferred up from Accounts, following in her wake.

‘Mrs Kyriakis, how nice to see you again.'

‘My dear, please call me Daria.'

Beth was startled to find her eyes fill with emotional tears as she emerged from the warm hug.

‘Let me look at you,' Daria commanded, taking a step back and surveying Beth from head to toe. From the verdict
of, ‘You poor, poor girl,' Beth assumed she looked terrible, though the compliments she had received recently on her new look suggested people less observant than Daria Carides noticed her clothes and hairstyle rather than the shadows under her eyes or the ten pounds she had dropped—her curves had virtually melted away.

It was just as well Daria had not seen her pre-makeover. She had been briefly tempted to adopt her old style but that would have been a step in the wrong direction—going backwards was not an option. Not that she had kept the clothes Theo had bought her. Instead, she had taken her old suits and blouses to a charity shop and bought several inexpensive but stylish alternatives from the High Street.

‘You look exhausted. I'm so sorry I couldn't come to your grandmother's funeral. I hope Theo told you I was thinking of you—we all were.'

Beth's eyelashes swept downwards as she gave a noncommittal smile. Theo had been there. She had seen him in the back of the church, then in the graveyard, a tall remote figure standing by himself, away from the main party of mourners, but he had not approached her.

Beth, in her turn, had ignored him totally. Maybe some people knew how to treat a man you'd begged to have casual sex with you but she was not one of them. She felt deeply ashamed that he'd occupied her thoughts on such an occasion but she was glad he had kept his distance, though the humiliating possibility that he might have done so because he was afraid she would expect a repeat of the sympathy sex did make her cringe.

‘The flowers were lovely.' Beth lifted a slightly shaky hand to her hair; she had taken to wearing it loose but made a concession to the workplace by tucking it behind her ears. ‘I'm afraid that Andreas is not here.'

‘Oh, I know and, between ourselves, Ariana is not too
happy about this New Zealand trip of his. I had no idea it was on the cards, did you?'

Beth shook her head. She suspected that Andreas had had no idea either. The first she had known about it was when she had arrived at the office, only to be informed that Andreas was out of the country and she was in charge—just like that.

When she had protested that she wasn't qualified, the senior manager who had been holding the fort said the way he'd heard it she'd been virtually running the place anyway.

While this was an exaggeration, Beth did, after the initial blind panic, find she could cope. There had even been one or two moments when she had actually enjoyed herself and being busy was a welcome distraction. She'd begun to realise that it might even be difficult, once Andreas returned, to re-adapt to her old role as his assistant.

Though she was still no nearer knowing when that would be, if ever!

During the week, more details had emerged of the
big argument
that was spoken of in confidential whispers. Nobody knew what it was about, though there was much speculation, most of it—
big surprise
—surrounding Ariana, but it seemed that the brothers had had the granddaddy of all rows, after which Theo had stormed out of the building looking, according to one eyewitness to his departure, as sexy as sin.

‘I just popped in to give you some details about the weekend.'

Beth looked at her blankly.

‘The house party…?'

Beth, who had a vague recollection of something like that being mentioned during the awful dinner—which now seemed a lifetime ago—nodded cautiously.

‘I've arranged for a car to pick you up directly from work on Friday.'

Beth's eyes widened in horror. The poor woman still thought she and Theo were an item. How was she going to break it to her that they never had been? It would probably be kinder to let her think they had just drifted apart. ‘I'm afraid—'

Daria held up her gloved hand and shook her head. ‘No, I simply won't take no from you as well. Both the boys have cried off and I've been looking forward to it for weeks. A little bit of sun and pampering is exactly what you need.'

If Daria was expecting sun, the woman really was an optimist; the radio that morning had forecast more of the same grey and gloomy weather they'd been enjoying for what seemed like forever.

‘You do know that Theo and I aren't…'

‘Theo won't be there,' his mother cut in.

Too busy taking of advantage of Andreas's absence and proving to Ariana he was the better brother? Beth reflected dourly.

‘And my invitation is for you.' Daria broke off, her brow furrowed with concern. ‘Are you all right, my dear? You look quite pale.'

‘Fine,' Beth assured her as she breathed through the nausea and blinked away the images playing in her head. Theo could sleep with whoever he liked—it was nothing to her.

What was that saying—tell yourself something often enough and you'll end up believing it? Beth really hoped the person who coined that one had known what they were talking about.

The older woman gave a positive nod. ‘You are
not
fine; I really must insist.'

The weak part of Beth wanted someone to insist,
someone to take the choices away, lift the responsibility that lay like a constant weight on her shoulders. She was tired of wills, bills, probate, death duty and people who wanted her declared unsound of mind because she wouldn't agree to have the garden of her childhood home sold off to developers, but she had been forced to agree to the sale of the house on the proviso that it was sold to people who would make it a family home.

It was no surprise that work had become her escape.

‘I don't know if…' Beth grimaced, unable to disguise the fact that she was seriously tempted. ‘This weekend?' The timing was kind of perfect. The estate agents had arranged a viewing for someone they saw as a serious potential buyer for the house that weekend and she'd been dreading it. If Theo wasn't going to be there…?

‘I will have you back at your desk by Monday,' Daria promised with a beaming
done deal
smile.

‘Thank you—that would be lovely.'

Daria got to her feet, enfolded Beth in another fragrant hug and said, ‘I won't disturb you any longer.' She turned back at the door and said, ‘I almost forgot. You don't have a problem with flying, do you?'

Beth looked at her blankly. ‘No, but—'

‘Excellent; it is possible to take a boat out but the helicopter is so much faster.'

Beth, struggling to follow, shook her head. ‘Out to where?'

‘Santos, of course.'

Beth's eyes flew wide. ‘But I thought you lived in Kent.'

Daria smiled. ‘Well, I do when we're in this country; we have a lovely little cottage there.'

Beth, her smile strained, nodded. She was getting the
impression that the Kyriakis version of
cottage
might equate with most people's idea of
mansion
or
castle
.

‘We always hold my little family weekends on Santos and since his father died Theo has been more than happy for me to continue the tradition.'

Beth's smile stayed pasted in place until her visitor had departed.

Then, her expression dazed, she sat down with an audible thud that sent her chair spinning into the wall behind. She might have taken over Andreas's responsibilities but she had drawn the line at taking over his office.

She would be spending the weekend on a Greek billionaire's private island—now, how weird was that?

By most people's weirdness scale, she suspected it came below sleeping with said billionaire but Beth was not thinking of that.

And, once her cycle got back into sync after all the emotional trauma, she would be thinking about it even less. She had no idea why she was worrying. Things like that did not happen—not to her.