Greek Mavericks: His Christmas Conquest. Cathy Williams

her over to the bed and very gently deposited her on it. It was an amusing notion considering he thought himself the least romantic man on the face of the earth.

      But one thing he wouldn’t let her do was take her clothes off. That was something he intended to do himself so that he could savour every second of the experience very slowly.

      Sophie found herself luxuriating in the experience, feeling like the cat that had suddenly and unexpectedly landed the jug of cream. In that part of her brain which was still operating—just—she puzzled over the enigma of how she could enjoy, with such perfect blissful abandonment, the touch and feel and scent of a man who was also capable of rousing her to real anger and frustration. Like one of those nasty maths problems she could never work out for exams, Sophie dismissed the niggle and sighed as Theo began tugging down her jeans.

      The drawn curtains had managed to block out most of the light but it was still far from dark in the room. Sophie watched, fascinated and turned on, the ripple of muscle along his arms and shoulders as he discarded her jeans and, kneeling at the bottom of the bed, removed his jumper. His body was as lean and as honed as any finely tuned athlete and bronzed—as perfect a male specimen as she had ever set eyes on. It briefly crossed her mind that she was taking on way more than she could handle but, like the insoluble maths problem, she shoved aside the worry.

      More pressing was the thought that her underwear was simply not up to scratch. She was pretty sure that the women he had slept with, and Lord knew how many of them there had been in his life, would have worn sexy, lacy underwear. Expensive exquisite silk as opposed to bargain buy cotton.

      But that little anxiety lasted all of three seconds and then there were no more thoughts as he pulled down the functional briefs and positioned himself squarely between her thighs.

      It was almost painful for Theo not to give in to the overpowering urge to just take her. No more preliminaries, no more foreplay, just desperately needed gratification of his senses, but even though his body was so keyed up that a single touch and he would explode, he still wanted to satisfy her and to feel every inch of her respond to him.

      He breathed in deeply to steady himself and then leant over her and began inching her jumper upwards. He must have fantasised about this even without realising it. What else would account for the fact that he could hardly breathe as more smooth skin was revealed to his greedy gaze?

      And no bra. His hands itched to touch but when he finally touched he knew that he wanted it to be with his mouth. He wanted all his senses to be satisfied.

      He heard her whimper as finally the jumper was off. For a fairly slight woman, her breasts were surprisingly lush, with big well defined nipples that Theo reached forward and touched, first with his thumbs until the peaks were rock-hard and then with his tongue, his mouth, his teeth, enjoying the way she bucked against him.

      He couldn’t get enough of that sweet taste, pulling the nipples into his mouth and suckling on them until she whimpered that he had to stop, that she wanted him in her.

      ‘Not yet,’ Theo said, moving down, trailing his mouth along the flat planes of her stomach, circling her belly button with his tongue. He must be a glutton for punishment, he thought, not to take her at her word and release them both from the sweet torment of their needy bodies, but he was still intent on tasting every inch of her luscious body, knowing that she would respond.

      He breathed in her unique smell, filling his nostrils with it, and then gently parted the folds of her womanhood. With his free hand on her stomach, he was aware of her sharp intake of breath and the jagged release of it as his tongue found the protruding sensitive bud of her femininity.

      He wouldn’t stay there too long. He knew that she was on the brink. Frankly, so was he. When she began to toss under his exploring tongue, Theo rose up and, with a few sharp thrusts, penetrated her.

      He reared up and took them both over the edge and release was glorious, spectacular.

      Their bodies were slick with perspiration when he finally lay down next to her.

      He wanted to ask her what she was thinking and realised, uncomfortably, that that was just the sort of question women used to ask him, a question which he had always found intensely irritating because his thoughts were not meant for sharing idly after sex. Or at any time, for that matter.

      He pulled her so that she was facing him and gently stroked her hair away from her face.

      ‘Should we have done…what we just did?’ Sophie breathed. She could feel anxiety buzzing around inside her. No, she did not regret abandoning her principles, but, like all principled people, she couldn’t help wondering what happened next in the scenario, where was the logical progression that would make sense of her behaviour. She half hoped that he would tell her that it had all been a crashing mistake because that way she could rebuild her fortress and get back to some healthy dislike.

      Instead, he gave her a lopsided grin and raised his eyebrows. ‘What kind of question is that?’ He kissed the corner of her mouth, which in itself provided her with the answer she was looking for. Yes…no mistake had been made. Making love with him had felt right.

      ‘Are you afraid that as your lover I might start asking you to knock something off my rent?’ He kissed her a little bit harder and was ridiculously gratified when she responded.

      ‘Are you afraid that as my lover I might start asking you to pay a bit more towards the rent?’

      ‘I would, you know…’

      ‘Would what? I was joking.’

      ‘Would pay more—enough to bail you out of your financial mess, in other words.’

      Sophie stiffened. ‘I would never, never ask you to do that.’

      ‘I know you wouldn’t. I’m offering.’

      ‘Thanks but no thanks.’ She began pulling away but he kept his hands firmly clamped on her shoulders, preventing her from going anywhere.

      ‘I don’t intend to open up an argument over this, Sophie,’ Theo grated. ‘It was an offer. You rejected it. That’s fine. I won’t broach the subject again.’ He was tempted to draw her attention to that fine line between pride and stupidity but it wouldn’t have gone down well, even though it enraged him to think that she would consider Robert—nondescript background Robert—as someone she might turn to in her hour of need. Still. Her life and her prerogative to run it as she saw fit. It wasn’t his concern at the end of the day.

      ‘I’m not a charity case.’ Sophie was not mollified by his retreat. There could be no power play between them and no suggestion that he might rescue her from her debts. Whatever they had had to be free from all constraints, free, in a way, from the ugliness of reality—something passing to be enjoyed. It might be that their enjoyment lasted only this one time or maybe once more, but it couldn’t be marred by the grinding nuts and bolts of everyday life. And talk of lending her money was everyday life at its worst.

      ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to help me with this computer program of yours.’ Well, was lending money any different from lending time and energy? She would still feel indebted in some way and indebtedness would be the clarion call for guilt to set in. Guilt that she was doing something she shouldn’t be doing, guilt that she was being used, guilt that she shouldn’t be enjoying herself, not when her beloved father had died and there were so many problems to be dealt with in the wake of his death.

      Theo felt that he could read this woman’s mind like a book. Or maybe her face was just so transparent that her thoughts flitted across it without the benefit of concealment. He was momentarily enchanted by the concept of someone so inept at hiding what they were feeling. ‘If you say so,’ he murmured, taking a gamble on her response. She might not behave in a predictable fashion, but he knew enough about women to realise that certain things were predictable, and having her self-righteous tirade chopped off before it had a chance to begin would, he reckoned, be too much for her to handle.

      ‘Well, I do. As a matter of fact.’

      ‘Okay.’