Bound By My Scandalous Pregnancy / Redemption Of The Untamed Italian. Clare ConnellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
I watched him stroll over to the plush sectional sofa, sit down on it in a deceptively relaxed pose, one long arm lazily stretched out on the top of it. He rested one ankle on his knee, and lifted his wine glass to take a liberal sip.
‘If you wish. But why postpone the inevitable? And why annoy me further by forcing me to carve another appointment into my schedule when we can settle this one way or the other tonight?’
Because I needed the headspace to think straight!
But Neo Xenakis would be equally imposing and breathtaking tomorrow—and most likely every day from now until eternity.
So why delay the inevitable indeed?
With legs turned rubbery, and nigh on useless, I approached him.
‘Let me give you the broad strokes of the consequences of your actions. I come from a large family. Perhaps not your conventional Greek family, but we adore babies without reservation, regardless of how they were conceived,’ he said, his hooded gaze on the contents of his glass. ‘Which means that from a relatively young age, certain obligations have been required of me. Obligations I had every intention of fulfilling at some point in the future. Do you understand what that means?’
My nod was jerky at best. ‘Something along the lines of keeping the family name going?’
‘Exactly so. And I take my duty seriously. So what do you think you owe me for effectively ending my chances of fulfilling my obligations?’
‘But…have I really?’ I asked, unabashed curiosity getting the better of my tongue.
The turbulent emotion in his eyes receded for a moment, replaced by an equally arresting gleam as his gaze raked my face before resting with quiet ferocity on my mouth.
‘I see we’re back to that little nugget you can’t let go of. Are you asking me if my equipment works, Sadie?’ he drawled.
There was a layer of danger to his tone that should have frightened me but instead caused the blood to rush faster through my veins, pushing a flood of colour into my cheeks.
‘I can’t help thinking…it would help to know if the situation is as dire as all that…’
God. Stop talking.
‘And if it isn’t?’ he rasped. ‘Are you hoping that with one simple answer you’ll be absolved of what you’ve done?’
God, we were really discussing his…his…
‘No. Maybe. Yes…’ I whispered.
‘My ability or inability to engage in intercourse is not the issue here,’ he said.
‘Answer the question anyway,’ I blurted, attempting to keep my mind on the important subject at hand and losing the battle in favour of racy thoughts of the exploration of his mouth-watering body first-hand.
Growing stupidly breathless, I scoured his face, his sculpted cheekbones, the hard angles of his jaw, the shadowed enticement of his strong throat and…dear God…the sensual curl of his lower lip, currently curved against his glass as he took another lazy sip.
The way he simply…lounged in his seat, was deceptively calm in a still-waters-run-deep manner. I wanted to dive into those waters, lose myself in them until I was completely sodden.
A different sort of heat pummelled me, low and insistent, charting a path of ravenous need directly between my thighs. Against the lace cups of my bra my nipples tightened, and each breath drew urgent attention to the decadent craving coursing through my body.
‘I could tell you—but should I? I owe you nothing. You have no right to answers. But if you truly want to know if I can get it up, I invite you to find out for yourself,’ he rasped thickly, his hooded gaze announcing that he knew every single yearning crashing through me.
My tongue thickened in my mouth, and that same acute urge to test where this alternative route would take me rammed unadulterated temptation through my bloodstream.
Sweet heaven. Surely he wasn’t really suggesting what I thought he was…? And surely I wasn’t truly considering it.
Was I?
MY BREATH BURST from between my lips, the wild, dizzying leap of my pulse a damning testament to the fact that his words had exhilarated me for one blind nanosecond before reason reasserted itself.
He can’t truly mean that. He’s just toying with you.
Even if he wasn’t, the proposal was absurd.
‘Is this a joke?’
‘Do I look amused, Sadie?’ he returned.
No, he didn’t. That raw confession in the kitchen returned, and the looming possible result of my actions—that I’d deprived not just him and his immediate family but the larger Xenakis clan of his future descendants—hit me with powerful force.
Helpless despair wove through me, and my chest tightened as I watched him, attempted to see beneath the taut mask of his face. Was this all because he truly didn’t want to be alone to confront the dire position I’d put him in?
If so, was this his answer?
I shook my head. ‘I…I’m not sure what this is all about.’
He shrugged. ‘You want me to provide spoilers for a story you seem very interested in. I invite you to peek beneath the cover. Or are you all bluster?’
‘Just so we’re clear, I’m not making any so-called reparation in the form of sex,’ I blurted. Simply because my imagination was threatening to take flight again, and the look in his eyes was sending my senses into free fall once more.
I grappled them down—hard.
One mocking eyebrow elevated. ‘You jump to conclusions with the same careless abandon that I suspect landed you in this predicament in the first place. Perhaps you should wait until you’re invited to my bed before you respond in one way or another.’
His censure smarted, regardless of the fact that I’d agreed to give him a little leeway in the perpetrator-versus-victim scenario.
‘I’m not stupid, Mr Xenakis. I can read between the lines. And whatever you think is going to happen here, it isn’t,’ I stressed, although the caution was equally for me as it was for him.
‘Has no one told you to quit while you’re ahead?’
Many times. But I never went against my instinct.
‘I believe in laying my cards on the table.’
Slowly, his relaxed stance altered. His arm dropped from the sofa, his body leaning closer as he pinned me with his gaze. With the width of the sofa between us, he wasn’t crowding me. But he didn’t need to. His presence filled every square inch of space, proclaiming his power and glory in ways that were hard to define and impossible to dismiss.
‘Do you? Well, hear this. If I wanted you in my bed you would come—and willingly. Not because of the unfortunate circumstances you find yourself in.’
‘If that’s some sort of dare, I promise I won’t be taking it,’ I stated firmly, despite that insidious temptation striking deep. Deeper. Making my every breath strain, making my nipples tingle and peak and yearn.
God, what was wrong with me?
He shrugged again. Drawing my eager attention to the firm, bronzed expanse of his throat. Striking me with a fervent need to place my hand right there…where his pulse throbbed powerfully beneath his skin.
I averted my gaze, but the lingering look he gave me said he’d caught me staring. I needed to get up. Leave. Put some distance between myself and the turbulent temptation