Page 17 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

Don’t crush her . Don’t crush the baby.

Xander’s delirious senses engaged, long enough to use the last of his strength, to roll onto his side, his arms full of soft, pliant woman.

He noticed the moment she came to her senses, when she tensed and tried to tug free of his embrace. He tightened his arms around her. The still hard erection nestled against her bare bottom, as he stroked her belly.

He hadn’t felt the baby move, and in many ways he was glad of that. Because the child had been too real in that moment, too much. But now he couldn’t stop touching her.

The endorphin rush had him smiling, even as he struggled to make sense of the rush of possessiveness.

He pressed his face into the soft cloud of curls and inhaled her scent.

‘We shouldn’t have done that…’ she said, blunt as ever. But the strain in her voice—and her body—made him more determined not to let her go.

‘Why not?’ he asked, keeping his voice even, despite his rising irritation. Why could she not accept she was his responsibility now?

She shifted to glance over her shoulder, her face a picture of consternation and frustration.

‘Because we’re not… We’re not a couple.’

He steeled himself against the stab of impatience at her obstinacy. How could he want her so much when she was so damn frustrating?

His hand roamed over the compact bulge, cradling their baby.

‘Are we not?’ he asked, keeping his tone neutral and ignoring the renewed ripple of desire—and irritation.

Why he found her curves even more erotic now he had no idea, but he could make an educated guess.

Was this how all men responded to the sight of their child growing?

Because he had been nothing short of unhinged when he had stripped off the nightgown to find the changes his baby had wrought.

Her enlarged nipples, the swollen breasts, the smooth bulge he couldn’t stop caressing even now.

But he had no wish to trigger another pointless argument. That first apology had been excruciating enough.

She huffed. ‘You’re engaged to someone else, Xander.’

The use of his usual name struck a dull chord inside his chest.

Was that regret, sadness? That she no longer thought of him as the man she had met that day? Why would he want her to call him Alex, when he did not want her to see him as that man? Vulnerable, captivated, exposed?

‘I am not yet officially engaged to Princess Freya,’ he remarked. ‘And anyway, it is of no consequence now…’

A sharp frown marred her brow. ‘It is to me. I don’t…’

He pressed his thumb to her lips to silence her protest. ‘Because Theo will inform her and her father today a marriage between us is no longer possible.’

She looked momentarily nonplussed. But if he had been expecting joy, or even gratitude, at this development—he was soon disappointed.

She struggled out of his arms and scooped the discarded robe off the bed to tug it on—covering all those delectable curves, still flushed with pleasure.

Pity.

She banded her arms around her waist, her gaze dropping to his still semi-erect flesh—which he saw no reason to hide. A blush scorched her cheeks.

She walked across the room to stare out at the sea as the yacht powered towards Sorrento. Her shoulders were rigid with tension. Oddly, he couldn’t help smiling at her typically complicated reaction.

Interesting that he still found that contradictory mix of innocence and awareness so intoxicating—and her stubborn refusal to bend to his will captivating, as well as annoying.

He sighed, sitting up to drag on his shorts. He didn’t particularly wish to get dressed. If only he could keep her in his bed until they reached Parádeisos, in three or four days’ time, it would make this whole situation far easier.

But then, nothing about Poppy Brown had ever been easy.

He followed her across the room. Her shoulders stiffened even more as she heard his approach, but her gaze remained riveted to the view from the yacht’s bow.

The wake churned as they headed across the Bay of Naples.

They would be anchored off Sorrento in an hour at most. And he did not want her to demand he let her go again.

Seducing her had seemed like a good way to ensure her compliance, but as soon as he had touched her, and she had responded, any thoughts of subtlety—of seduction—had been lost in a firestorm of need.

‘Why are you not pleased by the news that my marriage to Princess Freya is off?’ he asked, still confused by her less than enthusiastic reaction to the sacrifice he had made.

He didn’t want to lose the land deal—or the months of negotiations it had taken to set it up—but still, he had not hesitated to risk it all by calling off the alliance, to concentrate on his responsibilities towards Poppy and their child.

Surely she should be happy about his decision?

She looked over her shoulder. ‘I didn’t ask you to cancel your engagement, Xander.’

The bite of frustration was swiftly followed by something that felt uncomfortably like hurt.

‘Do you think so little of me?’ he demanded, using his temper to cover the hurt. ‘That I would consider marriage to one woman, while another is pregnant with my child?’

Why did he care that she believed he was not a man of honour, when he did not care what anyone thought of him? And she would certainly not have been the first to believe a street rat like him had no integrity.

She turned to face him, her arms still wrapped around her waist, trembling despite the sun’s warmth shining through the glass.

‘Honestly, I don’t know what to think. How can I, when I don’t know you…?’

‘How can you say this?’ he asked, baffled now. Were they speaking a different language? He had always considered his English fluent, but now he was not so sure. ‘When we have made a child together…and not five minutes ago, I was so deep inside you I could feel your heart beating?’

The blush on her cheeks exploded, the mottled colour spreading across her collarbone.

‘Th-that’s… That’s just sex,’ she said, but her gaze skipped away from his.

‘Just sex!’ He swore in Greek, dumbfounded, even as he struggled to control the wave of jealousy. Clasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he dragged her gaze back to his. ‘Have you responded to other men with such passion, then?’

She tugged her chin from his grasp. But as her brows shot up her forehead, and the flush burned, the twist of jealousy released its death grip. Because he could see the answer written on that expressive face.

No, she had not reacted to other men the way she had always reacted to him.

The sex had been as mind-blowing for her. And as extraordinary. His relief was quickly followed by a new surge of need, the yearning to taste her again, to lick her to orgasm, making his insides twist with something far more exhilarating.

‘That’s not the point,’ she finally managed. But she did not look so sure.

‘Then what is the point?’ he said, trying to be reasonable, while hot blood was coursing back into his boxers, threatening to derail his caution all over again.

Why on earth did you sleep with him again? What is wrong with you?

She looked at Xander’s furious scowl, making it clear he had no clue what Poppy was talking about. And he was also not happy with her answer.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t really blame him for that incredulous look… Or the temper swirling in his eyes and turning them to a stormy sea-blue. She was sending him so many mixed messages even she felt dizzy. And she wasn’t entirely sure either what the point was she was trying to make.

The truth was, when he’d told her his marriage was off, she’d felt the leap of joy in her chest—and immediately hated herself for it.

Because it made her feel like that na?ve girl again, who had fallen for him so easily five months ago. The na?ve girl who had been so captivated by his attention, so enchanted by his interest in her, so intoxicated by his lovemaking, she’d thrown away all her common sense.

That her body was still far too susceptible to him was bad enough. She really did not want to fall down that rabbit hole again—of believing their chemistry and that livewire attraction, the incendiary way she responded to his no doubt practised moves, meant more than it did.

‘The point is…’ She huffed, trying to figure out what to say without making herself look even more clueless. ‘Just because we have chemistry, it doesn’t mean that we’re in a relationship.’

His scowl deepened and his jaw tightened. ‘You are having my child,’ he said, his exasperation edging out his fury. ‘Therefore, we are in a relationship.’

‘You have to care about someone to be in a relationship with them, Xander,’ she countered softly.

He blinked, the dumbfounded expression so telling she felt foolish. The man was a stranger. They’d met precisely once before, spent four hours together full of lies and half-truths, and made a baby. Why would she even expect him to care for her when he hardly knew her, too?

‘I should return to my own cabin… My breakfast is getting cold,’ she murmured when he stood, apparently lost for words, his brow furrowing.

But as she stepped past him, he snagged her wrist. Sensation sprinted up her arm, but she couldn’t find the energy to tug her arm free when her gaze met his.

Instead of the indomitable, demanding man she had encountered since he had all but dragged her out of the restaurant in Galicos, he looked confused and, for once, less guarded.

‘I want you more than I have ever wanted any woman… And you want me, too.’ His voice dropped to a husky murmur that brushed over her skin, even as his thumb caressed the pulse point in her wrist. ‘The hunger has not died. And I see no reason not to indulge it.’

She wanted to disagree with him, even though her hormones were doing a happy dance at his blunt offer. But before she could utter a word, he pressed his hand to her mouth, trapping the not entirely truthful denial inside her.