“You are Kay’s sister. Everything has to do with money.” His mouth twisted. “How much?”
“I want my baby, Damian! You don’t want it. You said so.”
“You don’t listen, glyka mou. I said, I didn’t know about the child.” Slowly he reached out and slid his hand beneath Ivy’s sweater. She grabbed his wrist and tried to move it but it was like trying to move an oak.
His fingers spread over her belly.
“That’s my son,” he said softly. “In your womb. He carries my genes. My blood.”
“And mine,” she said quickly.
“You mean, Kay’s.”
She flushed. “Yes. Of course that’s what I mean.”
“A baby you meant to give up.”
The words hurt her heart.
“Yes,” she whispered, so softly he could hardly hear her. “I thought I could. But—but just as you said, this baby is in my womb—”
Damian caught her face in his hands.
“My seed,” he said. “Your womb. In other words, our child.” His gaze, like a caress, fell to her lips. “Via a syringe, Ivy. Not you in my arms, in my bed, the way it should have been.”
“But it wasn’t.” Was that high, breathless voice really hers? “Besides, that has nothing to do with the facts.”
She was right.
But he’d given up trying to be logical. Nothing about this was logical, he thought, and he bent to her and kissed her.
The kiss was long. Deep. And when she made a soft, sweet sound that could only have been a sigh of desire, Damian took the kiss deeper still. His tongue slipped into her mouth; he tasted her sweetness, God, her innocence…
Except, she wasn’t innocent.
She’d entered into an unholy bargain with her sister and he didn’t for a minute believe she’d done it as some great humanitarian gesture…
And then he stopped thinking, gathered her tightly in his arms and kissed her again and again until she was gripping his shoulders, until she was parting her lips to his, until she rose to him, pressed against him, sighed into his mouth.
She swayed when he let go of her. Her eyes flew open; she looked as shaken as he felt.
He hated her for it.
For the act, the drama…the effect it had on him.
“So,” he said, his tone calm despite the pounding surge of his blood, “we have a dilemma. How do I claim a child that’s mine when it’s still in your womb?”
“You don’t. I just told you, I want—”
“Frankly I don’t give a damn what you want. Neither will a judge. You entered into a devil’s bargain with your sister. Now you’ll pay the price.”
Her green eyes went black with fear. At least, it looked like fear. He knew it was greed.
“No court is going to take a child from its mother.”
“You’re not his mother, glyka mou. But I am its father.”
“Still—”