A Baby on the Greek's Doorstep

‘Thee mou... I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you right now!’ Tor growled, shifting over her, rearranging her willing body to push her legs up and back and higher.

And then he was surging into her, partially sating that desire for more with a compelling rush of new sensations. There was the burn as he stretched her tight channel and then a sudden sharp sting of pain as he plunged deeper. It made her grit her teeth but before she could linger on that development a whole host of new reactions was washing her memory of it away.

‘So tight, so good, you feel amazing, moraki mou,’ he framed raggedly, dark eyes sheer smouldering golden enticement as he looked down at her, shifting his lithe hips to send another cascade of sensual response travelling through her pliant body that made her breath catch on a gasp of wonder.

What had momentarily felt new and disconcertingly intense now felt absolutely right. Deep down inside, her body was tightening and tightening while his every passionate stroke inside her sent a sweet tide of rapturous sensation rippling through her. His urgency increased her breathless excitement. She thought her heart was about to burst from her chest. Only quick, shallow breaths came to her lungs and her body was rising up to his until finally the unbearable tension gripping her broke and she convulsed, her body clenching tight on his as an exquisite surge of release sent her over the edge and engulfed her in ecstasy.

In the wake of that shattering conclusion, Pixie stirred, shifting out awkwardly from beneath Tor’s weight. ‘Tor?’ she whispered. ‘Tor?’

She scrambled out of bed, worriedly scanning him. Breathing normally, he was fast asleep. Her fingers grazed his brow, but his temperature was already cooling from his exertions on her behalf. Her face flamed hotter than hellfire.

Pixie was in shock as she eased back into her pyjama shorts with a wince because a part of her that she didn’t want to think about just then was sore. Tor had kept on warning her that he was very drunk, but she hadn’t really believed him. Some people retained better control under the influence of alcohol, and he was clearly one of those individuals, capable of having a normal conversation and putting up a front. His conduct, however, was more revealing, she conceded uneasily. Intoxicated people were less inhibited, more liable to succumb to impulsive, uncharacteristic behaviour.

And having sex with her could only have been a random impulse and something he wouldn’t have done under any other circumstances. She could feel the blood draining from her shaken face as she made that deduction.

Saffron had brought him home for sex and he had said no. While respectfully engaged in remembering the death of his loved ones, Tor had not wanted a one-night stand with anyone. Pixie completely understood that, so she could not explain how she had lost control of the situation to the extent of actually having sex with Tor. How had that happened? How had she contrived to take advantage of a guy who was drunk and probably concussed and confused into the bargain?

She hurried into the compact en suite bathroom and went for a quick shower, registering in consternation as she undressed that neither one of them had thought to use contraception. She lifted chilled hands to her distraught face because she wasn’t on the birth-control pill or the shot or anything, having deemed such advance precautions unnecessary when she had yet to have even a relationship with a man and had never felt any urge to try more casual encounters.

Of course, she could ask for the morning-after pill, she reminded herself, and tensed at the prospect of having to make that decision. Why was that the exact moment when she had to recall her late mother tugging her curls and saying, ‘You were my little surprise baby!’ Although she hadn’t been planned by her parents, both of whom had been in their forties when she was unexpectedly conceived, she had been welcomed into the world and loved all the same. How could she do any less for any child she conceived?

Well, she was being a little theatrical in imagining such a challenging scenario in the immediate aftermath of her first sexual encounter, she told herself in exasperation.

But in truth, she was in shock at what she had done. She wasn’t an impulsive person and yet from that first scorching kiss she had succumbed to Tor and had encouraged his every move. She hadn’t made the smallest attempt to call a halt, she reminded herself crushingly. Her body and the fiery seduction of her own eager responses had enthralled her. All these years, it seemed, she had totally underestimated the fact that sexual arousal genuinely could lead to seriously bad choices.

Tor was gorgeous and he had got her all excited and everything that had happened from that point had been her fault. He had told her that he was drunk, and she had seen for herself that he was probably concussed. She had chosen to have sex with a drunk, grieving man and could only thank herself for the powerful sense of humiliation and shame that she was now enduring. She had taken advantage of him.

Pixie moved back into the bedroom, where Tor still slept. In only a couple of hours she had to get up again and go to work. She got back on the bed and clung to her side of it, eyes so heavy they ached. She felt sad, ashamed that she had been so foolish as to get carried away like a wayward teenager with the excitement of sex. She knew better, she knew the risks to her health and happiness and knew she would be visiting a clinic as soon as possible to be checked and go on some form of birth control. Although the guilt currently assailing her warned that she was highly unlikely to make such a mistake twice.

His phone was buzzing in his pocket and she drew it out with careful fingers and gently switched it off before replacing it. She was in no mood to be confronted by an angry, confused man because she couldn’t explain what had happened between them either.

Dawn was lightening the skies when she rose again and quietly dressed for her shift. Tor was still heavily asleep, and she decided to leave him to let himself out. That approach would neatly sidestep any embarrassing conversations or partings. She never ever wanted to lay eyes on the guy again!

CHAPTER THREE

TEARS WERE BURNING the backs of Pixie’s eyes as she sat stiffly in the waiting area of the opulent office building. The receptionist was exasperated with her for refusing to take a polite hint and leave: Tor Sarantos was not available for an appointment or even a phone conversation with anyone whose name wasn’t on the ‘approved’ list.

So, how was she supposed to tell the man that he had got her pregnant? Putting such a confidential disclosure in a letter struck her as foolish and careless. It would be read by office staff and likely discarded as the ravings of some desperate wannabe striving to importune the boss. And if it was given to him, he would be embarrassed that employees had been made aware of information that he would probably prefer stayed private.

Yes, Tor Sarantos, banker extraordinaire, h

ad certainly been hiding his light under a bushel, a virtual forest of bushels, according to everything that Pixie had learned about him on the internet and in the media in the months since their meeting. He was an incredibly rich and important banker and as far removed from her ordinary world as a gold nugget would be in a wastepaper bin. Only the craziest accident of fate could have ever let them meet in the first place, never mind conceive a child together.

It had taken Pixie quite a few months to decide that she had to tell Tor that she was pregnant. It was his right to know that he was going to be a father again. She would never forget the devastation she had seen in his haunted eyes when he told her about his wife and daughter dying. He had loved and cared for his daughter and it was that fact more than any other that had forced Pixie to listen to her conscience and seek him out.

He might not want any sort of relationship with her, but he might well want a relationship with their child, and she could not bring herself to deny either him or their unborn child that opportunity.

She was almost six months pregnant now. And, so far, pregnancy was proving to be a long, exhausting haul. She had finished her nursing training before she even allowed herself to acknowledge her symptoms and do a pregnancy test. She had wasted weeks running away from a looming truth that frightened her, she acknowledged shamefacedly, afraid to face the trial of being pregnant, alone and unsupported.

Her brother had been incredulous. ‘You’re a nurse!’ he had exclaimed when she had told him. ‘How could someone with your training fall pregnant? Why weren’t you on birth control? And why haven’t you gone for a termination yet?’

Yes, there had been loads of awkward, painful conversations between her sibling and her, conversations mostly bereft of Eloise’s more sympathetic input because her brother and his partner had split up and Eloise had moved out. Sadly too, although Pixie still saw Eloise as a friend away from the house, Eloise’s departure had worsened their financial situation and made meeting the mortgage payments an even bigger challenge.