Damaso Claims His Heir by Annie West - Damaso Claims His Heir

Author:Annie West - Damaso Claims His Heir [West, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarlequinUKLtd
Published: 2014-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

THE STORM HAD PASSED, and the steady drum of rain should have lulled Damaso to sleep, yet it eluded him.

Staying with Marisa was too distracting. The rumpled disarray of the guest bedroom, the first one he’d staggered to with her in his arms, proved that.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t touch her after that cataclysmic coming together in the sitting room. He’d assured himself he could hold back from the need to imprint himself on her, taste and hold her. But his willpower had snapped when she’d turned to him again.

He hoped she and the doctor were right. Logic told him sex wouldn’t harm the baby, yet he’d felt a profound fear of doing the wrong thing until Marisa had touched him.

He flung up an arm over his head, staring at the dark ceiling. His resolve had been renowned, and unbreakable, until her.

How had she done it? How had she overridden his determination to be gentle?

This wasn’t what he’d planned. Granted, he’d wanted her in his bed. What better way to bind her to him than with sex? He’d use any tactic he could to convince her marriage was best.

But now he had her where he wanted her, Damaso realised things weren’t so simple.

Tonight hadn’t felt like any sex he’d had before.

It hadn’t felt like he was in control.

On the contrary, his loss of control had been spectacular.

Then there was the way he’d felt. When he’d realised he’d hurt Marisa with his easy assumptions. When he’d knelt and kissed the woman who carried his baby. When she’d come apart so completely, her vulnerability had unravelled something inside, something he couldn’t mend.

Each time he’d climaxed, it seemed he’d lost a little of himself in her.

He shifted. That was nonsense.

‘Damaso?’ Her drowsy voice was like rich, dark honey, sweet and enticing, making his mouth water.

He remembered being twenty-two, a kid from the slums who’d dragged himself into the commercial world with a mix of relentless determination, hard work and luck. He’d put his past behind him and thought he knew it all: how to turn a quick deal, where to find profits, how to satisfy a woman, how to protect himself on streets so much safer and more respectable than the ones he’d known.

He’d been in a breakfast meeting at a hotel. Damaso had followed the other man’s lead, eating as they talked so as not to look too eager. He’d taken a bite of bread slathered in honey and had been instantly addicted.

Such a simple thing that most people took for granted. Yet just a taste had the power to drag him straight back to his past, deprived and wanting. To a time when honey had been a luxury he’d only heard of.

‘Damaso?’ Her hand touched his chest. ‘What’s wrong?’

He mentally shook himself out of abstraction. ‘Nothing.’ He paused, realising how abrupt he sounded. ‘You must be tired. You should sleep.’

Her hand shifted, fluttering over his ribs, and he sucked in a breath as arousal stirred.

‘Would you hold me?’ She sounded tentative, unlike the feisty woman who’d faced him down time and again.

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