An Heir for the World's Richest Man

A thick, helpless moan spilled out of her.

They kissed with wild abandon that bordered on rabid. When the need for oxygen drove them apart, Joao stared down at her, his eyes blazing with hunger as desire arced between them, snapping and sizzling like forked lightning.

It was the same look he’d levelled at her that night in Marrakesh. The one that made her heart leap with frenzied anticipation, her core desperately needy with a hunger she’d never known before.

But there was also a hint of apprehension.

Because from the first moment she’d set eyes on him, hadn’t she sensed that he could wreak wicked sorcery on her senses? And hadn’t that observation been conclusively proven two months ago?

Joao made a gruff sound under his breath, his hands sliding up her ribcage to boldly cup her breasts. Shamelessly, he moulded them as his kiss deepened, introducing an edge of hunger and possessiveness that robbed her of what little breath remained in her lungs.

When his fingers found the stiffened peaks of her nipples and mercilessly teased them, she shivered and strained into his touch with an eagerness bordering on abandon.

‘Touch me, Saffie,’ he grunted against her ear.

With a feverish little exhalation, she dragged her hands down his broad shoulders, over his chest to explore the hard planes of his stomach.

She barely felt the hem of her dress being lifted, the tops of her lace-stockinged thighs being exposed. But she certainly felt the heat of his fingers as they caressed her hip, revelled in the trail of fire as his fingers brushed the tops of her satin panties.

Joao’s lips found hers again as his fingers delved beneath, seared her damp heat to stroke her core, began to explore her with expert skill that turned her knees liquid. That made her whimper.

He swallowed the sound, parted her, and—

Froze at the distinct tone of a videoconference summons ringing through the study.

Joao muttered something under his breath, the meaning lost between their lips as he plastered his masterful lips against hers once more.

The sound stopped for a moment before starting again.

Saffie blinked, barely managing to drag herself from the psychotropic effect of his kiss. ‘Joao...’

‘Ignore it, Saffie,’ he growled.

But the icy brace of reality was sinking in deeper, reminding her where she was, what she was doing.

And with wh

om.

Dear God...

She pushed at his shoulders. ‘No... Joao, stop.’

This time his curse was succinct, tossed out in sexy, pithy Portuguese. Against her belly, the thick evidence of his arousal pressed insistently, sharpening the hunger tearing through her.

He stepped back and whirled away, his fingers driving through his hair as he placed half the width of the room between them.

Saffie sucked in a desperate breath and frantically adjusted her dress as thick silence pounded through the room.

After a minute he glanced at her, one finger poised over the answer button. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

He was once again composed, master of all he surveyed, which was more or less the whole world, while she squirmed in the pit of unfulfilled desire.

But Saffie managed to nod, managed to drag herself into the chair next to Joao with her tablet poised before her as the screen flicked to life.

And when they were done and Joao had effortlessly hammered another deal, she scrambled to her feet. ‘I’m going back to the office. I have a million things to do before we fly tomorrow afternoon.’

She told herself she was thankful that he barely glanced up from the file. That when he replied, ‘Very well. I’ll be down in ten,’ his tone was once again cool and indifferent.