Page 19 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

How can she be so enchanting and so infuriating at the same time?

Xander stared at the woman in front of him as she bartered enthusiastically with a stallholder to buy fresh figs in her rudimentary but surprisingly effective Italian.

The simple summer dress she had insisted on buying with her own money at a small boutique off the Piazza Tasso flattered her figure, while only just accommodating the pregnancy belly that had begun to fascinate him.

A shaft of heat eddied through him, at the memory of her nude body—so lush and delicious—laid out on his bed that morning.

Dark engorged nipples, full breasts, the compact bump where his child nestled and her rounded hips—so firm in his hands as he plunged into the tight clasp of her sex.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the erotic visions—which had been tormenting him all day—before he embarrassed himself in the open market square.

But he couldn’t shake the surge of lust that accompanied them.

Sex had always been a basic physical urge for him, something he enjoyed and had learned to do well but was easily forgotten once he had climaxed.

He prided himself on knowing how to please the women he slept with, because their enjoyment enhanced his own.

But the burning hunger he felt for Poppy was very different.

Something he now suspected he needed to be more wary of.

Because making love to her only made him more addicted to her, and had a devastating effect on his usual caution and self-control.

Why else would he have blurted out information about his childhood to her that he had never confided in anyone, except Theo?

He was not ashamed of his past. His father’s abandonment and the desperate years that followed had made him the man he was now—driven, focussed and extremely ruthless when necessary.

Nor did he see any reason to dwell on those early hardships, or re-examine the effect they might have had on his psyche.

Or to revisit the night when his father had shaken him awake, the smell of stale liquor on his breath, and told him he was now the man of the family.

Until Poppy had stood before him so valiantly and given him an insight into the grief that had blighted her childhood—and made him ashamed of not even considering her feelings when he had chosen to leave Galicos without her consent.

He did not regret that decision. It had been the right one to make at the time.

But even so, he had wanted her to know he understood her distress.

He didn’t believe it would change anything, nor did he really understand the knee-jerk decision to confide in her.

And that disturbed him. Because surely letting her see such a weakness would give her ammunition against him?

Weirdly though, instead of exploiting that moment of weakness, Poppy had shown compassion for that boy—even though that boy was long gone.

He did not understand her willingness to forgive his autocratic behaviour either. But he was not about to look that gift horse in the mouth, if it meant they could visit Sorrento without her trying to escape from him.

While he had no illusions she would allow him to make all the decisions that needed to be made from now on—in a strange way he no longer resented her refusal to obey him as much. While her insistence on buying her own dress had annoyed him, the battle of wills that had followed had been…well, hot.

‘Fabulous and only four euros!’ She held the newly purchased bag of figs aloft like a prize, her triumphant smile dazzling him… And reminding him of that day in spring when she had looked at him with the same sunny expression brightening her face.

He had missed that smile.

She plucked a fig from her haul and tore one open, peeling away the purple skin to reveal the red seeded flesh beneath. ‘They smell so fresh and delicious,’ she said. Then she bit into the fruit. ‘And they taste even better.’

Not as good as you do.

She grinned, licking the syrup off her lips.

The vicious shot of arousal made him tense.

She held out the half-eaten fruit. ‘Have a taste.’

His throat dried at the artless invitation. Did she have any idea how seductive she was? Her lips shiny with juice, her eyes bright with accomplishment and her expression open and uncomplicated again, as it had been the day they’d met.

He captured her wrist to guide her hand to his mouth, then angled the fruit so he could bite into the flesh in the same spot her lips had touched.

Her eyes widened as he swallowed the mouthful then devoured the rest of the sweet, fragrant fig, dragging his teeth across the skin. He plucked the used fruit from her fingers to drop it into a nearby bin, then lifted her wrist, and licked her fingertips clean.

Each slow lave of his tongue made her shudder.

He captured her thumb between his lips, and drew it into his mouth, sucking it the way he wanted to suck the bud of her sex until she came.

And suddenly he knew, whatever the complications of this relationship, and the many arguments no doubt in their future, he would not be able to let her go—not for a while.

‘Delicious,’ he murmured, finally releasing her hand.

Her breath guttered out in a sob of surprise. And awareness.

He banded an arm around her hips, unable to resist the invitation in her eyes to drag her closer.

Shocked arousal had dilated her pupils to black. Flush against him, with her protruding belly cradled between them, she had to be able to feel the reaction he could not control.

He leant down to whisper against her ear.

‘Let us return to the yacht and finish the figs in my bed,’ he said. ‘Then we may return to Sorrento later if you wish, before we set sail.’

It wasn’t a question.

She bucked against his hold, but he could see the desire she was trying to control when she flattened shaky palms against his chest.

‘I—I haven’t agreed to sail away with you, Xander,’ she said, trying to sound firm, even though her voice was husky with need.

The spike of temper—at her refusal to admit how much she wanted him—threatened his self-control, but he bit down on the urge to argue with her in the busy market square, aware of the tourists and locals milling around them.

Not the time, nor the place, to argue this point.

He released his hold on her hips, annoyed with himself now as well as her.

He had planned to be subtle during their outing in Sorrento, had even arranged for his assistant to book them a suite at the Grand Hotel Excelsior Vittoria, which overlooked the bay—so he could persuade her to return to Parádeisos with him over a shared meal. And already he’d blown it.

But as soon as she had sunk her teeth into the fig, all he had been able to think about was the desire to have her again.

What was happening to him? Because she made him behave like that feral boy again, desperate to grab what he wanted and gulp it down before anyone could take it away from him…

instead of the sophisticated man he had made himself become.

A man who had the world at his fingertips and could indulge himself in his own time and at his own pace.

He forced himself to step back and take a breath, to calm his rampaging heartbeat and the need pounding in his pants.

She looked wary and tense, the bright, playful smile gone, the paper bag of figs clutched in her fist.

He swore softly.

‘You haven’t even told me where we’re supposed to be going, Xander,’ she added, the wary tone shaming him for the second time in one day—which had to be a record.

But beneath the wariness he didn’t hear the resistance he had heard before.

She had asked him to include her in his decision making.

And while that was a much bigger ask than she probably realised for a man who had built an empire on never taking no for an answer, perhaps all that was really required here was more finesse.

He nodded. ‘We can discuss the details of our journey while we eat,’ he offered, tightly. ‘Before we return to the yacht.’

As much as he would like to drag her back to his cabin now and ravish her again, he could see it would not get him any closer to his goal.

While he could not give her a choice over whether she accompanied him or not—because he had no intention of leaving her in Sorrento—he could at least attempt to solicit her consent first.

He had been in difficult negotiations before—especially in the early days of setting up his business, when he hadn’t had the power and financial clout he had now. He knew how to coax and cajole, even if those skills were rusty… All he had to do now was suppress his more basic urges and be patient.

‘How about we discuss whether I’m actually going to go on this journey with you, first?’ she countered.

Clasping her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

She shuddered deliciously, and the kick of irritation at her rebellion faded.

You’ve got this, Xander, because she wants you too.

‘As you wish,’ he said, but he couldn’t control the smile as he led her through the narrow cobblestoned streets towards their waiting car and felt her shiver.

Suppressing this feral need was going to be a struggle, but then she was fighting the same losing battle. So why not use this incendiary attraction to fight his corner…and show her that a trip to Parádeisos would have some delicious advantages.

Poppy inhaled an uneasy breath as she sat on the private clifftop terrace in the penthouse suite at the Grand Hotel Excelsior Vittoria.

The sprawling city of Naples could be seen thirty miles away along the rocky coastline against the hulking shadow of Vesuvius, with the ancient ruins of Pompeii visible inland.

Capri and Ischia rose out of the vivid blue waters ahead of them, completing the breathtaking view from this vantage point, gilded by September sunshine.

But the view was not as breathtaking as the man sitting opposite her, his tanned face set in stark lines of determination.