An Heir for the World's Richest Man

‘Look at me, Saffie.’

She dragged half-closed eyes open, met his fiery ones.

‘Wrap your legs tighter around me,’ he ordered gruffly.

When she did, he shuddered, grunted in satisfaction, then began to move with sure, heady strokes, drawing whimpers of need with each thrust.

High colour scoured his cheeks and a harshly beautiful face etched in fierce arousal filled her vision as she began to climb towards that spellbinding crest. Before enchantment completely consumed her, Saffie caressed and kissed everywhere she could reach, greedily tucking away sensation for later, when she could relive this experience from memory.

Shaky fingers traced his cheekbones, the mouth that could wreak such sweet chaos, and when he turned his head and kissed her palm, she felt her eyes prickle with tears.

It was too much.

He was too much.

Yet she couldn’t stop it. Had no intention of doing anything but surrendering to this unique feeling.

When she finally cr

ested the peak, when there was nowhere to go but over that blissful edge, Saffie wrapped her arms tight around him, the only solid thing in her free-falling universe.

Beyond the wild rush of her climax, she heard him mutter in terse Portuguese before his movements grew uncoordinated, the force of his own climax drawing harsh grunts from his throat.

For several minutes only the frenzied sounds of their breathing echoed in the vast bedroom.

Then Joao rolled over, taking her with him and sprawling her over his large body. Long fingers combed through her hair, smoothing it back from her sweat-dampened forehead.

Saffie kept her eyes closed, the hypnotic pounding of his heartbeat lulling her into post-coital drowsiness. But it wasn’t enough to fall asleep. Nor did she want to. She didn’t want to miss a second of this out-of-time experience.

When his hand made another pass over her face, she caught a glimpse of his scar and her heart lurched. Aware she was treading on dangerous territory but unable to stop herself, she caught his hand in hers, traced her finger along the long white mark, then braved his gaze.

‘How did you get this scar?’

CHAPTER SEVEN

JOAO TENSED AT the question, everything inside him freezing at the subject he didn’t want to broach. He didn’t want to be pitied. Nor did he want to leave himself vulnerable to exposition. Or gossip.

Hadn’t many of his lovers asked the same question, their eyes brimming with curiosity, while their carefully crafted concerns hid more salacious intentions of what they could do with post-sex pillow talk?

Not once had he given them the satisfaction.

But Saffie was different. In the past four years, not once had she broken his confidence.

Except...this was personal.

And what they’d just done? His seed currently growing in her belly? Did it get any more personal than that?

He caught her wandering finger, stared down at her when she gave a soft gasp, but saw nothing but open, unsullied curiosity.

That need to unburden struck him hard again.

Deus, what was happening to him?

Her eyes began to dim, her expression growing wary at his silence.

He exhaled. ‘You remember when I told you my mother was a drug addict?’ he said, noting his strained tone.

She nodded.