Page 26 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

The rest of the day passed in a haze of hormones while Poppy attempted to focus on the stupendous sex and not her wayward emotions.

She’d woken on the sofa, to find a cotton towel draped over her naked body to shield her from the sun, and Xander swimming in the cove.

She’d located the discarded bikini and put it on to join him—because she didn’t want to be too much of a pushover by joining him naked!

But when he’d insisted on carrying her back to their sofa to apply suncream to her ‘pale English skin’, it hadn’t taken her long to realise he had a hidden agenda.

Their long, lazy lovemaking though, both before and after their deluxe picnic lunch—during which Xander had insisted on licking pomegranate juice off her breasts, as her ‘punishment’ for stopping him from licking fig juice off her breasts in Sorrento—had been its own reward.

And she had acknowledged that, not only did pregnancy make her super horny, but having great sex with her baby’s father, could be a fabulous distraction when it came to dealing with the emotions threatening to bombard her again.

If she could just keep everything in perspective, she could use their stay on Parádeisos to get to know Xander better—and discover if their spectacular chemistry could lead to more— but she didn’t want to risk letting the endorphin rush mean too much… Too soon.

She’d had dreams about Xander before, about them becoming a couple, but she was much more wary now.

She needed more from him than just the promise of great sex—and the responsibilities of shared parenthood.

She wanted to be open and honest with him about her feelings, but she needed him to be more willing to share his own emotions.

Today at the cove had been a start though, making her realise that perhaps Xander wasn’t immune to love, he was just even more wary of being vulnerable than she was.

After their day of blissful isolation, arriving at his villa, where a full staff had now been installed, made her aware once again how different her life goals were from Xander’s. He had acquired so much, so young.

The housekeeper, the personal chef, the gardener and the two maids—none of whom, except the housekeeper, Elena, spoke anything but Greek—had been noticeably discreet, disappearing as soon as Poppy had been introduced to them, and Elena had shown Poppy to a spectacular suite on the first floor.

She was grateful to find herself and Xander alone again, a lavish supper of delicious Greek delicacies laid out for them already, once she had showered and changed and ventured out to join him for the evening on the villa’s rooftop dining terrace.

He stood with his back to her, watching the sunset, looking tall and indomitable in a light linen shirt and trousers.

From this vantage point the view from the terrace was spectacular.

She could see the lights of Rhodes dotting the shoreline across the water, while the sinking sun turned the sea to a fiery orange.

It made her recall their farewell kiss on the dock all those months ago, when they’d parted, and she’d been so sure she had met her soul mate.

She’d believed then he was a man content to drift through life the way she did, never worrying about where she would end up next, because she wanted to enjoy the ride and keep her heart open to all the possibilities.

She knew now Xander was the opposite of that guy. He wasn’t moody and enigmatic and rootless, he was focussed and driven and intense. But she could see now that so much of his drive and ambition was linked to his need for the security that had once been denied him.

She released the breath that had been clogged in her lungs ever since their arrival on the island, really, as she stepped onto the terracotta tiles.

He turned towards her. His hair—damp from his recent shower too—gleamed in the twinkle of fairy lights that had been threaded through the grapevines on the lattice that enclosed the terrace. Hunger for her shone in his eyes.

And in that moment, she knew, she no longer wanted ‘Alex’, who seemed oddly shallow in comparison to this man.

Her heart bounced into her throat. Uncovering Xander’s secrets would be tougher, but more rewarding than uncovering Alex’s. Because Xander was more of a mystery, and so much more guarded with his emotions.

‘I have asked the staff to give us privacy while we are here,’ he said as he approached her. ‘I know you do not appreciate their presence.’

She was touched that he’d noticed her discomfort and attempted to alleviate it. But it also disturbed her that he could read her so easily, when she found it so hard to read him.

‘It’s nothing to do with them personally, I just…

’ She hesitated. How to explain the situation, without making herself too vulnerable again?

‘I guess it makes me super uncomfortable to be waited on by anyone. It feels weird, you know…’ She began to babble as he placed his hand on her cheek and stroked the skin lazily with his thumb.

The possessive touch made her pulse accelerate.

She drew in a sharp breath and soldiered on.

‘Like I think I’m better than them. And I don’t want to make anyone feel that way. ’

His brow creased, as if he was trying to figure her out again, but then he smiled, his expression softening.

‘Have I ever told you how delightful you are, Poppy?’ he murmured.

She swallowed heavily, trying to force her heart back where it belonged. But then his hand cupped the back of her neck to inch her closer. Until she could feel his breath on her lips.

‘I’m not sure you felt like that a week ago,’ she countered, determined not to make too much of the glow of appreciation in his eyes.

Was that a genuine compliment, or was he simply trying to seduce her again?

It was hard to tell, because his thumb was now stroking the thundering pulse in her collarbone, making it impossible for her to concentrate.

He let out a deep sigh and raised his head to meet her gaze.

‘I was so frustrated that you would not do as I told you.’

‘I noticed,’ she replied, but her comment came out on a husky breath, because she was oddly touched by the sincerity in his eyes.

He let out a gruff chuckle, but his gaze remained fixed on hers when he continued.

‘I find your free spirit and your determination to see everyone as your equal captivating, too,’ he explained, the honest appreciation in his eyes disarming.

‘But you must not concern yourself with the well-being of my staff. I pay them exceptionally well—and I pride myself on never making unreasonable demands, because I know what it is like to have no power when others have too much. I have been ruthless to make Caras Shipping a success, and I will never apologise for that, but I would never take advantage of those less powerful or wealthy than myself,’ he finished.

‘I—I know,’ she said, humbled by his impassioned explanation—and aware that he wasn’t just talking about his staff now, he was also talking about her.

‘Do you?’ His smile returned, but with a rueful tilt. ‘Does this mean you no longer hate the billionaire who purchased this island…?’

She stiffened, registering the defensiveness behind the deliberately amused expression. ‘You remember that?’

Cursing softly, he released her and walked back across the terrace—to stare out at the sunset again. His shoulders were rigid as he thrust his fingers through his hair, raking it into rows. ‘Forget I mentioned it,’ he murmured.

She followed him across the tiles, her chest hollowed out by the controlled irritation in his stance. He wasn’t angry with her for the words she’d said that day, she realised, but with himself for having let them matter to him.

She couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said after they’d made love.

But what she did remember, all too vividly, was the way the atmosphere between them had changed abruptly as soon as the afterglow had faded.

How the playfulness, the openness, the heat and longing—and the intimacy—that had been building all day had suddenly disappeared.

When she had discovered Xander’s identity, she had assumed the abrupt change had been because he had been keen to get rid of her once he’d got what he wanted. But now, she realised, it must have been that offhand comment.

‘I’m sorry, Xander,’ she said, softly. And meant it. She’d hurt him. And she had carried on believing he was a man who couldn’t be hurt. But the fact he’d held onto that criticism for so long told a different story.

He swung round, his expression carefully blank. ‘You have no reason to be sorry. You did not know the man you spoke of was me.’

‘You misunderstand me, Xander.’ She touched his forearm, desperate to sooth the tension crackling in the air between them.

The muscles hardened but he didn’t pull away.

‘I’m not sorry for what I said about that billionaire, because you’re right, I didn’t know him then.

But I know more about who he is now and, for that reason, I’m sorry what I said hurt you. ’

Xander flinched, shocked not just by the unnecessary apology, but also by the fierce compassion in Poppy’s eyes. Why did her compassion, her kindness, feel like a strength, when he had always considered vulnerability of any kind a weakness?

And why did her stalwart belief that he was a good man, despite everything, make him feel like that terrified boy again, who had woken to find himself and his brother alone…

? It was almost as if everything he had worked so hard for—the security, the safety, the money—had been for nothing, because he couldn’t defend himself from this slender woman—or resist the tenderness in her eyes.

Shame and embarrassment washed over him.

Why had he mentioned her comment? Had he really allowed himself to stew over that remark for months? How pathetic.