Claiming My Hidden Son. Maya Blake

know. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out.

      ‘The modern art pieces all over the house. Did you pick them yourself?’

      His eyes widened fractionally, as if I’d surprised him. ‘Yes,’ he bit out. Then, on a softer note, ‘Good art rarely loses its value.’

      A layer of my nerves eased as I nodded. ‘And pieces from emerging talent only appreciate with time.’

      He strolled to the massive fireplace in the living room and leaned one muscular shoulder against the mantel. ‘Masterpieces from the greats are all well and good, but modern art has its place too. They should be appreciated side by side.’

      Just as he had placed them all over the house. I took a sip of water, settling deeper into my seat. ‘I agree. Does that theme echo in all your properties?’

      ‘Yes, it does.’

      Before I could express pleasure in the thought, the gleam in his eyes arrested me.

      ‘Is this how you wish to spend your wedding night, Calypso? Discussing art?’

      The nerves rushed back and my hand trembled. ‘What if it is?’

      ‘Then I suggest you might want to be in more comfortable attire than that gown?’

      Again, his eyes raked me, sending heat spiralling through me.

      ‘Is this a ploy that usually works for you?’

      One corner of his mouth lifted before his eyes darkened. ‘Like you, I’ve never been married, so we both find ourselves in strange waters. Either way, the dress is going to have to come off one way or the other.’

      ‘And if you don’t like what is underneath…?’ I dared. ‘Will you send me back?’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you’re hoping for?’

      Was it? I could have sworn my answer would be yes until actually faced with the question. But the word stuck in my throat, refusing to emerge as he sauntered towards me, taking a moment to discard the crystal tumbler so both his hands were free to capture my shoulders when he stopped in front of me.

      ‘What I’m hoping for is that you will stop dishing out those enigmatic smiles and tell me what you meant earlier,’ I said.

      He frowned. ‘You’ve lost me,’ he drawled.

      ‘When you said if we were to consummate this marriage? Are you incapable of doing so? If so perhaps you should get one of your staff to show me where I’m to sleep.’

      His eyebrows rose. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you just issued me a challenge,’ he drawled, in a voice that ruffled the tight nerves beneath my skin.

      His scent filled my nostrils, his calm breathing propelling my attention to his sculpted chest, to the pulse beating steadily at his throat. To the magnificent vitality of his skin and the sheer animalistic aura breaching my tightly controlled space. Screaming at me to notice his masculinity. And not just to notice. He drew me with a power I’d never known before. I didn’t just want to breathe him in. I wanted to touch. Explore. Taste.