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‘You will live with the child in one of my houses. I don’t care which it is.’
‘I... I don’t—’
‘If finances are a problem, I will take care of it.’ He found himself gripping the arms of his chair as if that were the only thing stopping him from reaching for her. ‘You and the child will want for nothing.’
The smoky look had vanished from her eyes and they sharpened. ‘You...want me to live with you?’
‘No, not with me.’ He wasn’t used to having to explain himself. He’d always thought it a waste of precious time, and he resented having to do so now. It was this need, though, that was the problem. This desire wrapping its hands around his throat and squeezing him, choking him, making it difficult to think. He never found it difficult to think. ‘I do not live anywhere in particular. You will have one of my houses and the child will be raised there.’
The desire had vanished utterly from her gaze, giving way to shock. ‘You’re joking,’ she said. ‘I mean, seriously?’
Annoyance started to bite. At himself and the desire that wouldn’t seem to leave him alone, that he couldn’t control. At her and her beauty, and the way his body had fixated on her for some reason. At how she clouded his mind and made it difficult to think.
His mind had been his sanctuary, the perfect escape from the drudgery of living ever since he’d been a child. An escape from loneliness, from anger, from longing. A private world where he was the master. That mastery now extended into the real world and he would allow no one to compromise it, still less one little preschool teacher from Melbourne, no matter how lovely she was.
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘I am not. The child is mine, my heir. He or she will also need a mother, therefore your presence will be required.’ He paused, his fingers clenched around the arms of his chair. ‘Your presence will also be required in my bed.’ His jaw felt tight, a muscle leaping there. It felt as if he were trying to hold back the tide. ‘And that, Miss Underwood, is non-negotiable. Do you understand?’
Nell stared at the man sitting across the acres of dark oak.
He sat like a king, the vast black leather chair his throne, his gaze boring into hers. It burned that gaze, nothing but molten silver, making her feel hot all over.
She’d thought that maybe those feverish frantic moments in the elevator would have blunted the edge of her own desire, but they hadn’t. If anything they had only intensified it, made her hungry for more. It hadn’t been water on a fire but gasoline, and now she felt as if he’d burned away some vital part of her, a layer that had been protecting her, leaving her vulnerable and raw and, yes, still desperate for him.
Perhaps it was a combination of pregnancy hormones and shock. Or maybe it was just him. Him and the all-consuming way he looked at her, as if he was as hungry for her as she was for him.
Still. Even after three months had passed.
God, she couldn’t look away.
Tension radiated from him, a muscle leaping in the side of his strong jaw, his hands gripping the arms of his chair as if he was afraid what he might do if he let go.
You did that to him. That was all you.
He wanted her and she’d loved that hunger of his. She hadn’t had to do a thing. She’d just been herself and now she had this powerful man, this billionaire who owned the towering skyscraper she was sitting in, ravenous for her.
It was intoxicating, a welcome respite from the months of uncertainty and fear and constant exhaustion, and she wanted more of it. She hadn’t tested the boundaries of her effect on him back in Melbourne that night, not when they’d been too busy with their basic hunger for each other, but now she wanted to. She wanted to test her power.
Get it together. He’s basically demanding you sleep with him again, remember?
Nell took a sudden breath. What had he said? That he wanted her and the baby to live in one of his houses, and she would be in his bed. And that was non-negotiable.
Awareness flooded back in, cold as ice, washing away the heat and the pulse of desire.
She struggled to shake off the force of his intense gaze. ‘That’s...not why I came here,’ she said, trying to get rid of the husk in her voice. ‘I don’t want your money.’
He didn’t move, his beautiful face set in hard lines. ‘Then why did you come?’
‘You know why. I told you.’
‘The baby, yes. But that could have been a phone call. What else did you want?’
‘I didn’t have your number and no one would give it to me, and I thought...this was a conversation we should have face to face.’ Her hands twisted in her lap, the adrenaline coursing through her making her feel restless and antsy. ‘Our baby needs a father and I wanted to give you the chance to be one.’
His gaze roved over her face, her hair, her shoulders and down over the curves of her breasts, and she knew she should draw her coat around herself, that she shouldn’t pour any more petrol on this particular fire, yet she didn’t move.
There was something powerful in his hunger. Something that made her feel as if she, the mediocre cuckoo in her aunt and uncle’s nest, was beautiful and mysterious. A femme fatale who could make a man do anything. Perhaps she could makethisman do anything.
Before she knew what she was doing, Nell leaned back slightly in her chair, allowing her coat to fall open so that the curves of her body were clearly visible beneath her clinging dress.