Page 27 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

He drew his arm away from her fingertips, resisting the powerful urge to drag her into his embrace and kiss her until they were both breathless.

If only he could tear off that dress and make love to her, until she was crying out his name again, massaging him to climax, so he could obliterate this foolish conversation.

But somehow the brutal need to have her only made him feel more defenceless.

Because his inability to control the constant hunger felt like a problem now, too.

He bunched his hands into fists and shoved them into his pockets, to stop himself from reaching for her. If for no other reason than to prove he could.

‘You did not hurt me,’ he said, determined to reject her sympathy, her pity. She couldn’t hurt him, not unless he let her. And he could not open himself to that again, however much he might desire her.

‘Okay,’ she said. But then she blinked and the sheen of moisture in her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, disturbing him even more.

‘And I certainly do not require an apology,’ he added, annoyed by the defensive tone. ‘If anything, I should say sorry to you, for not being honest with you that day, about who I was…’ he finished, realising the apology was long overdue.

She nodded, but just when he felt as if he could breathe again she asked: ‘Why did you keep your identity a secret that day? Was what happened between us always just about the sex for you?’

Yes. Because I knew you would never sleep with me if you knew I was him.

He opened his mouth to give her the answer he wanted to be true.

The answer he’d managed to convince himself was true, five months ago, when he’d walked away from her on the dock, determined to forget her.

But her sincerity—and that bottomless pit forming in his chest—made it impossible to lie to her or himself any longer.

‘It is true I wanted you very much,’ he said.

‘From the first moment you approached me on the beach. You were so fresh, and guileless and fierce… When you spoke of your mother with such passion, it moved me, and I am not a sentimental man.’ He paused to ease the tightness in his chest. ‘And as the day progressed, I could see you desired me, too.’

But what had happened that day had always been more than just sexual attraction.

Because she still unsettled him, causing emotions he did not recognise, he hadn’t expected, and he did not want to acknowledge even now.

But maybe if he stopped pretending nothing had happened, he would finally be able to control those unthinkable emotions.

She was the mother of his child. She would always be a part of his life now.

So it was important he found a way to rationalise and eventually overcome the feelings that continued to disturb him.

But he could not admit any of that to her, or it would expose him even more.

‘When you suggested we remain anonymous,’ he added, choosing his words with care, ‘it seemed the perfect solution for us to take what we both wanted without consequences.’

His gaze drifted to her stomach. He pressed his palm to the bump and let out a wry laugh.

‘Ironic, given our circumstances now.’

She covered his hand with both of hers. His heart jumped, making him aware that the pit in his stomach was still there, and still bottomless. What he saw in her eyes—soft and warm and real—terrified him more. But even so, he couldn’t look away when she smiled.

‘Ironic, yes, but somehow wonderful too,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t you think?’

He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that, but even so, he nodded, the rush of possessiveness hard to ignore. ‘Yes, I am glad you are having my child,’ he said, surprised to realise it was true.

He doubted he could love a child, and he knew he could never give it what it would need emotionally. He had been forced to give up all those weaknesses on the streets of Athens as a boy to survive—and he did not regret it. But as its mother, Poppy would be able to give their child that so easily.

His role would be as it had been with his brother. To protect, to shelter, and to give their child financial security.

She beamed at him, tears glistening in her eyes now. It made her even more beautiful, and desirable. He tugged his hands out of his pockets to cradle her face, and brush away the tears with his thumbs, ignoring the weightlessness in his belly.

‘Do not cry, Poppy. I will take care of you both,’ he said, wanting to reassure her. As well as himself.

She sniffed, then smiled. ‘I can only let you do that if you’ll let me take care of you, too.’

He frowned, her offer making no sense to him. But then decided he could live with that, if her role was to bear his child, to nurture it, and to take away this constant nagging ache that only she had ever filled.

Tugging her towards him, he slanted his lips across hers, devouring her soft sob of surprise and surrender, determined to seal their deal the only way he knew how.

He angled her head to take the kiss deeper and make her aware of the thick ridge forming against her belly. The hunger intensified as she returned his kiss with equal fervour.

Sex was simple, uncomplicated. This was what he wanted from her, and all he would ever need. To feed the hunger, soothe the longing, sate the desperation.

She was his now, but on his terms. And when they were tired of each other, he would ensure she and the baby would always have what they needed.

Lifting her into his arms, he strode across the terrace, towards his suite.

‘Xander, our dinner?’ she asked, dazed and delightfully flushed.

‘It can wait. It is you I am starving for now,’ he said, grinding out the words as the ruthless need consumed him.

She didn’t object as he carried her to his bed.

Much later—after they had eaten in the moonlight, then made love again—he lay in his bed, staring out of the open terrace doors at the starry sky, the sea breeze cooling his heated skin while he held her warm, exhausted body a little too tightly.

As he caressed her stomach, the fierce hunger returned.

As well as the hollow pain, the old fear, that she might leave him when he needed her still. And suddenly he could think of only one solution.

They must become man and wife.

He would have to handle the proposal with care. She would be resistant, because of that maddening independence that captivated and frustrated him in equal measure.

She was resistant to the life of luxury and leisure he could offer her.

But she already understood the ‘freedoms’ she had once taken for granted came with a cost their child would have to pay.

So, surely it would not be impossible to convince her she and the child needed the protection of his name.

Once the child was born, she would have to nurture it and that would be a full-time job.

But surely, given her compassionate nature and her excitement about the pregnancy, being a mother would give her more satisfaction than the menial work she had done before?

He recalled the sheen of deep emotion in her eyes earlier that evening.

Why shouldn’t he use her passionate nature, her sweetness and naiveté and her belief in dreams, to overcome all these other obstacles?

She sighed softly then shifted in his arms, her movements agitated—almost as if she had sensed him making decisions for her again.

He gathered her close, ignoring the prickle of guilt. He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her—suncream and summer flowers and female musk—and the familiar heat pounded between his thighs. He could not let her go, he had to make her stay, that much was non-negotiable.

He had already arranged to conduct his business from Parádeisos for the next couple of weeks. Why not use the time to lay the groundwork for a marriage at the end of their stay here? He had always been ruthless in the pursuit of what he wanted, so why should this situation be any different?

He could not stay on Parádeisos indefinitely. But once they were married, she and his child could live here.

And, once she was living in the place her mother had once dreamed of making her home, she would understand her independence was a small price to pay for a future as his wife, and the mother of his heir.

He had learned, even if she had not, that love was a trap. It was fickle and dangerous because it forced you to rely on other people. And he could never offer any woman that.

But a home—a home that no one could take away from her—that was achievable and real, if… He paused, his arms tightening around her until her restless movements stilled and she relaxed back into sleep…

No, when he made her his wife.