An Heir Claimed By Christmas (Mills & Boon Modern) (A Billion-Dollar Singapore Christmas, Book 1)

by Clare Connelly

  ‘I don’t have any bathers.’

  ‘There are plenty in the bedroom. Come. I’ll show you.’ He caught her hand once more, pulling on it gently so she collided with his naked chest. Her breath burst from her lips. She stared up at him, her pulse hammering hard, his eyes boring down into hers speculatively.

  ‘Or you could swim without.’ The words were said low and deep, a husky invitation that had her knees quivering.

  She swallowed a groan, but found she couldn’t deny how tempted she was. Apparently, he took her silence as a rebuke, because he squeezed her hand. ‘Relax, Annabelle. It was a joke.’

  Disappointment seared her. She wanted to tell him she was fine with going naked, that it was no big deal to strip out of her clothes and let him see her as she was, but something held her back.

  ‘How come you call me Annabelle?’ She blurted out the question instead, causing him to frown.

  ‘It’s your name, right?’

  ‘I mean, when everyone else calls me Annie.’

  He lifted one shoulder. ‘Maybe I don’t like to be the same as everyone else.’

  Fat chance, she thought with a smile. Dimitrios Papandreo could never be like anyone else on earth, ever.

  He began to walk across the deck and into a window-filled corridor, and she fell into step beside him. A bedroom came off it to one side, but not like any bedroom she might have expected to see, had she put any thought into such matters. No, this room was spacious and decorated more like a bedroom in a five-star hotel than on a boat. An enormous king-size bed sat at its centre, a huge mirror framed in pale timber hung behind it, and there was cream-coloured carpet underfoot. The furniture was Scandinavian in style, and a huge wardrobe boasted a selection of clothes—male and female. A wisp of jealousy breathed through her, unmistakable and sharp. Who were the clothes for? Who’d worn them?

  ‘I had a selection sent here after your shopping trip in Sydney,’ he said, as though he could read her thoughts. She moved closer and saw that, as with the wardrobe selection then, these had their tags still attached.

  It was so thoughtful and unexpected, though it shouldn’t have been. If she knew anything about Dimitrios, it was that he was prepared for anything.

  ‘I like to have stuff at each of my places,’ he explained. ‘Saves having to pack much when I travel.’

  She reached for one of the dresses, feeling the silk fabric beneath her fingertips, her lips twisting in a smile that was bittersweet. ‘Exactly how many homes do you have?’

  ‘Singapore is my home,’ he said, surprising her by coming to stand right behind her. ‘But I have properties around the world, mainly in the places we do the most business—London, Madrid, Tokyo, New York, Paris, Dubai, Sydney.’

  Her head was spinning.

  ‘Did you come back to Sydney often after—’ She forced herself to finish the question, though she wasn’t sure where it had come from. ‘After that night?’

  His eyes flashed at hers, hesitation obvious in their dark depths. ‘Not often.’

  ‘But you did come back?’

  His nostrils flared as he exhaled, evidently choosing his words wisely. ‘We have business there. It’s where my mum lives. Yes, I came back.’

  Her stomach looped. The idea that he’d been in the same city as Max and not known about him made everything feel so much worse. At that moment, the boat began to move, as though it had come across the wake of another craft, just little shifts in the current that caused it to rock—and to rock enough that Annie lost her footing ever so slightly.

  Dimitrios’s response was instant, snaking a hand out to catch her elbow, holding her steady. It was the lightest touch, and for an obvious purpose, but it set her pulse skittering wildly. All she was conscious of was his nearness and strength, the warmth of his touch, his overtly masculine bearing, the woody citrus fragrance he wore. And suddenly she was riding a different wave, this one not gentle or slow, but dragging her higher and higher in an inescapable current. Her eyes lifted to his and she felt something lock into place—the culmination of everything she’d been feeling and wanting all day and the certainty that, though she might wonder at her decision, she knew it was the only decision she could make.

  Her hands lifted to his bare chest, her fingers splaying wide over his pectoral muscles. She dropped her gaze to them, staring at her fingertips, her mouth dryer than the desert.

  ‘The bathing costumes are in the drawer.’ It was gruff. She noticed he didn’t take a step backward, though. If anything, he moved slightly closer, so his hips brushed hers, sending a riot of awareness tumbling through her body.

  She was scared but she was also bold—she knew what she wanted—and that certainty meant she was going to see this through, come what may. Her eyes held his, a challenge in their depths as her fingers found the hem of her shirt. She lifted it slowly, not looking away from his face, so she recognised the moment his expression shifted and his lips parted on a hiss of breath, his features being pulled tight.

  ‘Help me get changed?’ she murmured as she pushed the shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor.

  His eyes fell to her lace-clad breasts, his concentration so fierce she could feel heat radiating from him to her.

  ‘Annabelle...’ It was a plea. A desperate, aching plea. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

  She reached behind her back, finding the bra clasp and undoing it. ‘I beg your pardon, but yes, I do.’

  She undid the bra, dropping it from the edge of her fingertips so that her breasts spilled out, her nipples taut, begging for his attention.

  He swore softly, but everything was magnified; she heard it and it ricocheted through her soul like an earthquake.

  ‘Make love to me, Dimitrios. I don’t want to wait any longer.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  DISBELIEF ETCHED LINES about his mouth but then he shook his head, as though waking from a dream, and a second later crushed his lips to hers, a kiss designed to taste, torment, dominate and give.

  She surrendered to it completely, but only for a second, then desperate hunger—starvation—was taking over, ripping her body apart piece by piece, and she was certain he was the only way she could be built back together again.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling her higher up his body and, understanding her silent plea, he lifted her against him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he moved towards the bed, his hands so strong and commanding, his body so warm and masculine. She was melting against him, her insides turning to mush, heat slicking her feminine core, nipples aching for his touch. She arched her back, his name a curse and a spell on her lips, an incantation she offered again and again, her voice barely recognisable.

  He kissed through her words, swallowing them whole, his hands working the button at her waist and pushing her trousers down, his fingers lingering tantalisingly on the curves of her calves before reaching her ankles, caressing the flesh there, then the soles of her feet. She whimpered at the lightness of his touch, wanting more, simultaneously relishing everything about this—the desire to stretch it out, to make every second last a lifetime. She wanted to hold on to this.

  I’m not going anywhere.

  Her heart trilled in her chest. She reached for his shoulders, her nails scoring the flesh there, her back tilting. His lips on her knee surprised her; she startled in response to the unexpected touch and his hands reached for her hips, holding her steady as his mouth made its way slowly, oh, so slowly higher, his tongue teasing the flesh of her inner thigh inch by inch, her breath fast and loud as he went higher still. One hand left her hip, pushing her legs apart, and it didn’t occur to her not to comply. She lifted her feet on to the edge of the bed and his mouth came between her legs, his tongue so light she could barely feel it at first, so light it left her desperate—utterly, incandescently desperate—for more.

  Still, she wasn’t prepa
red for the experience that was coming—his mouth closing over her most sensitive cluster of nerves and kissing her there until she almost passed out from pleasure. Her fingernails pushed into his shoulders and somewhere in the very, very distant recesses of her mind still capable of thought, she worried she might draw blood.

  And yet she couldn’t stop.

  She couldn’t change anything about what they were doing; this was a juggernaut and they were both on board it, just as they’d been that night seven years earlier.

  ‘You’re so wet,’ he growled, the words so deep they reached inside her and sent tremors of pleasure radiating through her body. His fingers moved to echo his mouth’s movements, slipping inside her and finding her raging pulse, until she tipped over the edge of sanity and existence and became a pile of nerves. She cried out as pleasure swallowed her. His name at first, and then just moans, over and over, her body racked with shakes of euphoria.

  He didn’t give her time to recover. A second later he was kissing his way up her body, his hands still pleasuring her womanhood, his mouth taking a nipple hostage, pressing it hard against his lips, then lightly, so the contrast was too much to bear. She cried out, and he brushed his hair-roughened chin across her chest to the other breast, subjecting that nipple to the same exquisite pleasure-pain.

  ‘Stay here,’ he groaned as he reached her mouth, his lips tantalisingly close to hers. ‘Don’t move.’ His eyes bored into hers, as though he was afraid she was going to change her mind. Not a chance in hell.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To get protection.’ A frown creased his perfectly symmetrical brow. ‘Unless you want to start trying for another child right away?’

  Nothing could dampen the pleasure she was feeling, but his words pulled her some of the way back to sanity. Another child? Another chance to experience motherhood, without the stress she’d known constantly since Max’s birth? But, no. That wasn’t something you just went into lightly. She needed to think about it, make sure it was the right decision. She shook her head, smiling to hide how tumultuously affected she was by that idea. ‘I’m not ready.’

  A firm nod from him and then he was gone, walking across the room before disappearing through the door and reappearing less than a minute later, a string of metallic squares dangling from his fingertips, his body now completely naked. His grin showed he wasn’t at all affected by her decision about the casually suggested next child, but she barely registered his facial expression. Her entire attention was taken by his physique—his strength, his perfectly honed body, his lithe grace, his easy athleticism, and the impossible-to-miss state of arousal. Her eyes clung to his erection, a hint of panic spearing through her at the idea of that fitting inside her.

  ‘God, you’re beautiful.’ Pleasure spread through her at his compliment. No, not just at the compliment, but the way it sounded—as though it had been wrenched from the heart of his soul, as though he couldn’t not say it because he felt it with every fibre of his being. It was though he was marvelling at her, worshipping her, even.

  ‘You’ve changed since that night. These are bigger.’ He reached for her breasts, cupping them in his hands, his fingers brushing over her nipples.

  They were. After Max, her breasts had never gone back to their previous size, though they were still modest.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said again, shaking his head with a rueful grin before bringing his mouth to hers, kissing her until she was breathless and starlight danced behind her eyelids. She groaned, lifting her legs around his waist, holding him tight.

  ‘I was just thinking the same thing about you.’

  She felt his smile against her shoulder and then he was pushing up, running his hand over the side of her face, his eyes searching hers, as though he wanted to say something to her but couldn’t find the words. She held her breath anyway, her heart beating overtime, and in her mind she knew what she wanted to hear.

  Her eyes flew wide but there was no time to process the foolishness of what she was hoping for—the idea that Dimitrios might love her. If she’d had time to consider it, she might have realised how foolish it was to cement their arrangement with this next step, but he was already parting her legs and pushing his arousal against her womanhood, and animal instincts took over, shoving worry, thought and perception clear from her mind.

  She tilted her hips, welcoming him even as he pushed deeper, slowly at first, so she dug her nails into his side and groaned, ‘Please, now,’ until he drove himself the rest of the way, deep, hard and fast, just as she longed for. His length filled her so she needed a second to adjust to the sensation of his possession, but only a second, and then he was moving again, each thrust of his length exactly what she needed, so she found herself tipping closer to the edge of pleasure. Her fingers sunk into the mattress, her hands curling round the soft sheets, ripping them loose from the bed as she surrendered to the moment, lost on a wave of perfection and euphoria.

  She rode that intense wave of pleasure until it crashed around her, spreading heat through her entire body, her head thrashing from side to side, her moans filling the luxurious bedroom, the waves rocking the boat nothing to the waves that were rocking her soul.

  As with her last orgasm, he waited only a moment for her breath to slow and then he was moving again, expertly shifting her body a little so she was on her side. Each movement he made reached different parts of her, sending new shockwaves of awareness tearing through her; his hands on her breasts was the last straw, each touch of her nipples seeming to light a fire inside her that there could be no hope of extinguishing.

  Their faces were an inch apart, his eyes on hers the whole time, watching her, reading her, trying to understand her, and the intensity of his gaze added a whole new level of intimacy to the experience. A tear rolled down her cheek; she was powerless to stop it. He leaned forward and kissed it, then moved his mouth to hers so she tasted saltiness and passion. This kiss was soft, gentle, stirring something deep in her belly, even as heat and passion coursed through her veins.

  He growled low in his throat, moved harder and faster and this time, when pleasure wrenched her from Earth and spirited her far into the heavens, he released himself with one deep, passionate thrust, spilling his seed from his body, her name on his lips filling the room, mingling with her fervent cries, a harmony of intense pleasure and need.

  Afterwards, there was not silence, so much as music. The rhythm of their breathing, the humming she made as she tried to process the extent of their pleasure, the rocking of the boat like a dance into which they were being drawn.

  Tension had been dogging Annie for a long time. Seven years? It was as though it had been building ever since that night and now it had finally broken; like the bursting of a dam, something had been loosened and Annie felt...free. She smiled. It was like a weight being lifted from her chest. She’d come home.

  Home.

  She lifted a hand to his chest, her fingertips pressing against his sternum, so she could feel the solid beating of his heart. She closed her eyes, a smile tingling her lips as she sighed.

  Exhaustion was chasing pleasure. She felt as though she could sleep for a week.

  But there was a normal life to get back to.

  Max.

  Her eyes flew open. Dimitrios was watching her, so her heart rate kicked up a notch, renewed desire firing in the pit of her stomach. And even as his arousal was filling her, she felt as though she wanted him all over again.

  She ran her fingers sideways, finding his nipple and brushing it slowly. To her surprise, he made a growling noise, as though the same pleasure that had filled her at his touch was now moving through him.

  She wanted to explore this, to learn how to pleasure him. No, she wanted to learn how to drive him crazy, how to make him feel a thousand and one things, including the complete loss of control she’d experienced. For years Annie had lain dormant, the sexuality he�
��d stirred completely disregarded in her day-to-day existence, but now it was bursting to life inside her, refusing to be contained. She had a hunger; she had no idea if she could ever control it.

  But Max...

  ‘I hate to say this, but we really should think about going back.’

  His fingertip traced a line from her chin to her shoulder, then across her clavicle to the indent at the base of her throat. It was such a light touch, but his familiarity and possessive confidence was a whole new level of sensuality.

  ‘Why?’ he murmured.

  A smile shifted across her lips.

  ‘Because we have a son.’

  We have a son. It was a statement of fact but the ‘we’ came so naturally to her lips, and the sharing of Max. They had a son together. Max would always bind them.

  I’m not going anywhere.

  Euphoria spread through her body, reaching her fingers and toes and everything in between.

  ‘He’s with Francesca.’

  ‘But the soccer day will be over by now.’

  ‘So she’ll give him dinner and put him to bed.’

  Annie frowned. She’d never missed a single night of tucking Max in. Not once. But he wasn’t a clingy child, and he adored Francesca.

  For six years she’d put him first, prioritising his needs above her own. It hadn’t been hard—she was a mother and that instinct had come naturally and with a strength she dared not defy. But for the first time in a long time, lying here with Dimitrios, the waves lapping gently at the side of the boat, she felt a pull to be selfish. To put herself first, just this once.

  ‘You think he’ll be okay?’ she wondered, seeking reassurance even when she knew he’d be fine.

  Dimitrios’s smile had the power of a thousand suns. ‘I wouldn’t suggest it if not.’

  Annie relaxed, letting her body go limp and her eyes close, moving closer to Dimitrios so her head was buried in the crook formed by his arm and his chest. ‘We’ll call him later, though?’ she said softly.