The Santorini Bride Read online

  “Bloody Julian,” Theo said through his teeth.

  He meant it, too. It was one thing to have casual sex with a woman if you both knew the score. It was another to string a woman along with an eye to something permanent while you were having sex with someone else!

  “Exactly,” Martha said.

  “You’re better off without him.”

  “I know.”

  “Forget him,” he advised sharply.

  “That’s exactly what I was trying to do.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  She gave him a faint hopeful smile. “The mind-blowing sex,” she reminded him.

  “You thought you’d get over him by doing the same thing he was doing?” Theo’s voice was harsh and indignant.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s insane. It’s crazy. You don’t just go out and have sex with someone to get over someone else!” He wanted to shake her all over again.

  “Why not?” she repeated. She looked actually curious, as if she didn’t know.

  “Because—because—” he sputtered. “You just don’t!”

  He leapt up and began pacing, needing to put space between himself and this crazy woman. This delectable crazy woman. And as he paced, he tried to come up with words that would make her understand what an idiotic thing she’d done.

  They’d done.

  Yes, but he hadn’t known what he was doing. He’d been the victim! He’d been the one preyed upon. He was the wronged party here, the one who’d been taken advantage of!

  All of it was true, of course. And all of it, even to his ears, sounded totally unconvincing. He could feel his entire body vibrating with indignation as he stood with his back to her and glowered out the window.

  Behind him she shifted on the bed. “You were….very good,” she said in a small voice. “I think.”

  He spun around. “What?”

  He was good? She thought? How was that for damning with faint praise?

  Theo tore at his hair with both hands. “Well, thank you very much. It’s nice to know I’ve got your seal of approval. Your experience is so vast.”

  But instead of shrinking in the face of his anger, Martha sat up straighter. Somehow spitting out the whole sordid story seemed to have given her some renewed backbone. She met his gaze. “You’re right, of course. I don’t have much. But I was…impressed.” She lifted her chin, defying him to argue with her.

  And was he supposed to say she was wrong? Hell. Theo snorted. “Thanks very much.” Sarcasm dripped.

  He didn’t understand how she did it—one minute making him mad as hell at her. The next making him feel oddly protective. Then spitting furious again.

  She smiled sweetly. “You’re welcome.”

  He wasn’t mollified. He wanted to shake some sense into her. He wanted to throw her out of his bedroom.

  But mostly he wanted to throw her down on the bed and make love to her again. To make love to her properly this time—slowly, gently, tenderly—the way it should have been for her the first time!

  Damn it!

  His fingers balled into fists. And he spun away toward the door. “I’ll sleep on the sofa!”

  “No! You can’t!” Martha came scrambling out of the bed after him. “You said you wanted them to believe I’m your girlfriend.”

  “Yeah. Well, we just had our first fight. And so I’m spending the night on the sofa.” He had his hand on the door handle. She caught him by the arm.

  “No. Please. Look, I know you’re angry. I shouldn’t have—I should have—I’m…I’m sorry.”

  No, she shouldn’t have. He wasn’t sure what she “should have.” But the apology felt wrong. And her hand on his arm felt far too right.

  Irritably, he shrugged. “It’s all right,” he said gruffly. He moved to pull out of her grasp. But she didn’t let him go.

  “Is it?” she persisted. “You’re sure?”

  He scowled. “Yes, of course. It was a dumb-ass thing to do, but I can see if you were provoked—”

  “I was provoked.”

  “I know.”

  She still had her hand on his arm. “Stay,” she said, looking up at him with beseeching eyes.

  Stay?

  “Here?”

  Share a bed with her? Now?

  Now that he knew how sweet it was to make love to her? How eagerly she responded? How she gasped and twisted and arched at his touch? Theo shut his eyes, clenched his teeth.

  “You don’t have to make love to me again,” Martha said quickly, misunderstanding completely. “We can forget the mind-blowing sex.”

  His eyes snapped open and he stared down at her in disbelief. “We can?”

  How? He’d never forget it in a million years.

  But Martha was nodding earnestly. “Of course. If that’s what you want.”

  At this point Theo didn’t have a clue what he wanted.

  Life, which had seemed so quiet and uneventful just a few short hours ago—not even the World’s Sexiest Sailor moniker had netted him a headache like this—was now more complicated than he could have imagined.

  “Or…we could do it again,” she offered tentatively in the face of his silence.

  He blinked, stunned.

  “Now that you know,” she added almost diffidently.

  “Uh-huh.” By which he meant yes indeed, now he very definitely knew. It did not mean anything else.

  But apparently Martha didn’t understand that.

  “Oh, good,” she said happily, lacing her fingers through his and drawing him back toward the bed. “There’s a lot more I want to learn.”

  She knew he didn’t intend to teach her.

  She knew he was annoyed as hell. And she supposed he had a right to be. She had used Theo Savas shamelessly. But she was fairly certain he’d enjoyed it.

  And she was determined, now that she’d weathered the storm of his wrath, that they would do it again.

  And again.

  Sex with Theo was amazing. It made her feel things she’d never felt before about her body, about his. It was delightful and tantalizing and she wanted more and more. The feelings were ones she frankly couldn’t imagine ever having felt with Julian.

  Theo was much more interesting. Mysterious. Compelling. A woman could learn a lot from Theo Savas, she told herself. She had probably only touched the tip of the iceberg—which was definitely not an apt metaphor. There was no ice where Theo was concerned. None at all.

  So she got him back to bed. And she continued her education.

  This time Theo didn’t hurry.

  He laid her back on the bed, then settled alongside her, propped up on one elbow, rested his head against one hand while with the other he taught her about her body, about her needs and her desires.

  He watched her from beneath hooded lids while his fingers skimmed down her arm, over her hip, against her buttocks, along her thighs. And everywhere they traveled, they left trails of need, of desire, of fire.

  Martha, needing to reciprocate, reached out to touch him, but he batted her hand away.

  “But I want—”

  “Not now. Not yet. You’ll get your turn,” Theo promised her. “But this time’s for you. The way it should have been.”

  There was such a fierce intensity in his gaze, such determination, that Martha didn’t argue.

  She’d done all her arguing. She’d got what she wanted.

  Be careful what you wish for, her mother always said.

  It was a warning Martha had never really understood. She understood it even less now as Theo played her body like a fine musical instrument. He made it vibrate. He made it sing.

  How could she ever not want this?

  She squirmed beneath his touch, biting her lip and shuddering as the sensations built within her. “Theo!” she importuned him. “Come here. Please! Now!”

  He smiled, but still he took his time about obliging.

  “Theo!”

  “Mmm.” He moved then, and Martha breathed a sigh
of relief and anticipation when he finally settled his body over hers and slipped between her thighs. She shifted to accommodate him.

  “I’ll be careful. I won’t—” he began, his jaw taut, his whole body tense as he shut his eyes and tried to go slow. He didn’t finish the sentence.

  Martha didn’t let him. She needed more than reassurance. She needed Theo. Right now. And so she grasped his hips and pulled him down to her—into her waiting warmth.

  His eyes flew open. “What are you—!”

  “Yesss.” Martha’s breath hissed out as she felt him fill her. And she sighed again, this time with pleasure at the feel of him. Then she looked up, met his gaze and smiled.

  Theo didn’t. He held himself rigid, looking worried, panic-stricken almost. As if she might break.

  If she’d been going to break, she would have already done so.

  But telling him so hadn’t seemed to help. Verbal reassurance would do no more for him, she feared, than it had done for her. He would believe what he wanted to believe. Unless she showed him otherwise.

  And so, experimentally, she began to move. She tilted her pelvis, arched her back, took him deeper, made his eyes widen even more.

  “Martha! You don’t—”

  “I do.”

  He trembled. “Are you—?”

  “Yes,” she said again. “Oh, yes.”

  And when she did it again with more urgency and more assurance, Theo couldn’t help but respond. His jaw locked, but the rest of him moved. With her. In her. Against her. In a rhythm as old as time.

  It was, Martha decided, like being in the sea, feeling the strength and the tow of the water, the growing surge of the wave as it gathered force, building and growing and pulling her with it until she was at the very top as the wave crested and for a split second she could see forever.

  And then it broke. She broke. And Theo broke with her.

  She fell headlong into reeling sensations, into a swirl of color and light. And when, shattered and spent, she finally breathed again she knew she clung to a man as shattered as she.

  She smiled, satisfied to feel his heart hammering against her chest. She tasted the salty sweat as her lips and tongue touched his shoulder. She pressed her palms against the slick damp of exertion on his back. She felt him shudder and tremble. He let out a harsh hard breath.

  And lay still on top of her.

  He was not so much heavy as simply solid. Having him there made her feel protected.

  And how strange was that?

  She tried to think. Couldn’t. Could only marvel. And feel.

  “Oh, my,” she said when she could finally speak. Her breath seemed to come in short shallow gasps.

  And at her words, Theo lifted his face, which had been buried against her neck, to peer into her eyes. His were a bare inch away. “Oh, my?” he echoed warily. “What’s that mean? Another ‘very good’?” His mouth twisted.

  Martha shook her head. “Nope, not very good.” There was only one word to describe it. Martha said it, grinning all over her face. “Wow.”

  He was “wow.”

  They were wow. Because that was probably closer to the truth, Theo admitted to himself as he lay there, mulling it over long after Martha had fallen fast asleep. She was curled against him, one arm flung over his chest, one knee on top of his thigh. He brushed a hand over her tangled hair.

  Wow. It made him smile every time he thought it. It was short and sweet. Succinct.

  And astonishingly true. Certainly unexpected.

  The whole damn affair was unexpected.

  He hadn’t got up this morning with any more plans than a day’s sail and a few long-distance phone calls to some old buddies in Newport who had sent him information about a boat he might want to use for a race next spring.

  And then Martha had arrived—followed by Agnetta and Cassie. And the next thing he knew he was having a “fake” affair with Martha at his insistence and sex with her at her insistence! And damned if she wasn’t right—the sex had been “wow.”

  Not the sort a guy would expect when he bedded a virgin, that was for sure.

  Theo had never wanted to bed a virgin. It had always seemed to him like a recipe for disaster. A terrible responsibility—in more ways than one.

  There was the expectations issue, of course. Virgins tended to expect a guy to marry them, and as Theo had no intention of doing so, he had always made it a point to steer clear.

  But he hadn’t had any idea about Martha. And she’d been quite clear that she had no expectations of him at all. Marrying him wasn’t ever a consideration. She was having sex with him to exorcize her demons.

  Demon, Theo corrected himself.

  Bloody Julian.

  Theo didn’t even know him, and he still felt like punching him every time he thought about the creep. He had seen the pain that had been in Martha’s eyes when she’d recounted her disillusion. He had watched the tear that had trickled down her cheek. Bloody Julian hadn’t.

  And hadn’t cared. He obviously never had a clue about what he was missing.

  Stupid jerk.

  In fact, Theo wondered if he ought to be thanking the guy.

  If Julian had come through—if he’d been alone in that shower when Martha had walked in—no doubt she would have joined him. And nothing that had happened today would ever have happened at all.

  Except Agnetta and Cassie. Theo shuddered at the thought. If she’d turned up on his doorstep alone and uninvited, he’d have had no compunction about sending Agnetta away. But with the two of them coming here at his mother’s suggestion, Theo would have had a hard time telling them to get lost.

  Martha’s unexpected presence had provided the perfect way to spike their guns and prevent his mother from her never-ending matchmaking schemes.

  So, yeah, maybe he did owe Julian a brief thanks. Not that he’d say so in front of Martha. He brushed a hand along her arm now and she snuggled closer, turning her face into his shoulder, brushing her lips against him, making him want her all over again.

  He was amazed at the extent of his desire. But then he’d been celibate for the last four months, ever since he’d got fed up with being pursued by so damn many relentless women.

  So he’d been ready and willing when Martha had responded. That was all it was—deprivation. Nothing to do with Martha herself.

  And he certainly wasn’t going to take her again, even though he badly wanted to.

  That was another thing about virgins. Her body, delectable and responsive though it was, was unaccustomed to lovemaking. He’d already hurt her once inadvertently when he hadn’t realized how inexperienced she was. He’d tried to make up for it the second time by showing her how wonderful it could be. And judging from the “wow,” he thought he’d been successful.

  But regardless of how much he would like to show her again right now, he knew he’d better not.

  He’d better sleep. Even more he’d better hope that when she woke up in the morning she hadn’t developed a sudden case of expectations.

  The very thought made him shift away, ease his arm out from beneath her and carefully roll away.

  She made a soft whimpering sound. A sound that called to him, urged him back.

  “Oh, hell,” he muttered, and slid his arms around her again, drew her close and willed himself to go to sleep.

  Affairs, Martha was surprised to discover, were not all they were cracked up to be.

  They were not miserable shady clandestine nasty things. Or not always, anyway.

  Hers—with Theo—was wonderful.

  When she awoke this morning with the sun already high in the sky, she had expected to feel horrible, guilty, undone.

  She ought to hate herself. And him.

  But she didn’t. Not at all. Not one single tiny bit.

  She was alone in the bed. His bed.

  Sunlight streamed through the window making her feel warm and languid and decidedly sexy. All the secret places of her body yearned again for his touch. And she want
ed him there with her. She missed him.

  Oh, right, she chided herself. You don’t even know him.

  True enough. But there were things about Theo Savas that she did know. Intimate things like what made his toes curl and what made him groan and bite his lip. Things she didn’t know about any other man alive.

  And she wanted to know more. Wanted to know Theo.

  Don’t, she cautioned herself. Don’t get involved.

  She wasn’t involved! she assured herself. After all, she was the one who was making the rules. She was the one who had suggested they have sex. She knew the score.

  And she had absolutely no intention of getting hurt by expecting too much from him the way she had with Julian.

  She wasn’t expecting anything from Theo at all!

  It was just a fling. And she knew it. They both did. That was the name of the game.

  “Right,” she said aloud. “So just enjoy it while it lasts.”

  She looked around lazily, taking stock, glad again in the clear light of day that there was no sign her parents had ever slept in this room. She put them out of her mind and raised her arms over her head. Her body felt a little sore, as if she’d exercised more than usual.

  Which she had, she thought with a satisfied smile, stretching languorously and flexing her toes, remembering things Theo had done last night that had simply made them curl.

  Theo had been spectacular. And, amazingly enough, caring.

  She hadn’t expected that.

  Of course he had been furious when he’d discovered the small thing she hadn’t mentioned. But what was she supposed to do? Advertise that she was a virgin? No way.

  At least when she’d convinced him that it wasn’t a problem—and by the time he’d found out, it certainly wasn’t—he had set about doing things differently, apparently determined to make up for everything she’d missed.

  And judging from the way she felt now—slightly sore and supremely satisfied—he’d been successful.

  “Wow” had indeed pretty much summed it up. Only the fact that she had been totally exhausted from jet lag had kept her from wanting to do it again. And again.