Bound By My Scandalous Pregnancy. Maya Blake

pushing the baklava directly in front of me.

      The sight of the perfect little squares of delight was too much to resist. At my helpless nod, he placed four pieces on a fresh plate and slid it in front of me, again seemingly content to simply sit back and watch me eat.

      Perhaps this was Neo Xenakis’s method of torture. To feed me until I burst.

      At that mildly hysterical thought, I let my gaze flick up to meet his. Again that spark flared in his eyes, and the charge seized me, causing tingles from my palms to my toes.

      ‘If it wasn’t for this wholly unfortunate situation, I’d think you didn’t want me to leave,’ I mused. Then immediately cursed my runaway tongue.

      He froze, his grey eyes turning as turbulent as a lightning storm. His hand tightened around his glass, his fingers turning white.

      ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’

      ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he interrupted, his voice low, rough and raw, as if scrabbled from a pit of utter despair. ‘Maybe I don’t want you to leave. Maybe I need you sitting there in front of me as a reminder of what has happened. Of the fact that the nightmare you brought to my doorstep isn’t one I can wake up from.’

      The utter bleakness in his tone launched a lump into my throat. My fingers tightened in my lap as the need to reach out, to lay my hand on his or cup that rigid jaw, powered through me. I did neither, sensing it wouldn’t be welcome.

      ‘Is it really that hopeless? Is there no chance that things can be salvaged?’ My question was a desperate one. But the thought that things could really be so dire for a man so incredibly masculine and virile looking seemed unthinkable to me.

      ‘Excuse me?’ he rasped icily, his eyes turning almost black with the strength of his emotions.

      I pushed my plate away and forced myself to answer before I lost my nerve. ‘I... Surely it doesn’t surprise you that I’d wonder why a man who looks like you—’

      ‘Looks like me?’ he grated.

      I wetted suddenly dry lips, suspecting I’d strayed into dangerous territory but unable to locate the road map to take me out of peril.

      ‘You’re not blind. You look like the poster-perfect image of virility. Is it beyond the realms of probability that I’d wonder why you’d need to use a facility like the Phoenix Clinic?’

      His eyes slowly rose. ‘Did you not admonish me for judging you based on your outward appearance?’

      Even as my face heated, something inside me reacted sharply to the notion that I might have ended this man’s line with my mistake. Something that utterly rejected that thought.

      ‘Please answer the question, Mr Xenakis,’ I urged, aware of my escalating desperation.

      ‘Why? Are you distressed by the thought that a man who “looks like me” might be impotent or infertile?’ he drawled.

      He was goading me, pure and simple. I should’ve looked away. Backed down.

      ‘Are you?’

      He rose and stepped away from the island. ‘Come with me,’ he grated.

      Something raw and intense pulsed in his tone, warning me that whatever he had in mind would decimate me emotionally.

      ‘And if I refuse? Is this where you threaten—’

      He slashed one powerful hand across my argument, his lips flattening into a displeased line. ‘A word to the wise, Sadie. If you have any desire for self-preservation left in that body, be wise and stop defying me at every turn. I’m a man who faces adversity head-on. Right now, I’m this close to tossing you out the door and letting the authorities deal with your crimes. But, again, the choice is yours. Leave and face the consequences or indulge the man you’ve so gravely wronged. Which is it to be?’ he asked, his eyes pinning me in place.

      ‘I... Fine. I’ll do what you want. For now,’ I tagged on, simply because that self-preservation he’d mentioned was kicking in wildly, doubling my thundering heartbeat. ‘I reserve the right to leave any time I want.’

      He left the kitchen without responding.

      I followed, striving not to breathe in his intoxicating scent and failing miserably.

      Senses jumping, 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