‘Tell me what you’re feeling,’ I urged thickly, aware that my voice was hoarse, barely intelligible.

She froze, the eyes that had rolled shut mere seconds ago flying open.

Watching her, I lazily caught that peak between my teeth, felt a carnal shudder unravel through her. ‘You taste exquisite.’

Arousal and denial warred in her face, and then her fingers flew from my hair as small but effective hands pushed at my shoulders. ‘No! Stop!’

For a moment I considered a different tactic. Negotiation. Talking her round to my way of thinking. Satisfying this need that dogged us both. But hadn’t my family and I given the Petrases enough in this lifetime? This was supposed to be the time to extract my pound of flesh after what they’d done to my grandfather. Besides, sex was what had led us here in the first place. Was I really going to fall into the well of temptation I’d counselled myself against a year ago when I should be dealing with the reality of my son?

The reminder was enough to propel me off her and across the room. Even then it took several control-gathering breaths to master my raging libido. It didn’t help that her reflection in the window showed her naked breasts for another handful of seconds before she righted her clothes.

When she was done, she rose. She didn’t approach—which was a good thing, because I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have given in to the urge to finish what we’d started.

‘Axios...’

I gritted my teeth, the discovery that my name on her lips was its own special brand of hell driving my fingers through my hair.

This had gone on long enough. ‘This is no longer purely business, Calypso. I want to know my son.’

I caught another expression on her face—one that sent a different type of emotion charging through me.

I turned around, wanting to verify it more accurately, but whatever it was had gone, her face a composed mask.

‘Of course. I won’t stand in the way of that.’

Why didn’t that agreement satisfy me?

Why did that hollowness still remain?

‘Good. Then we shelve discussion of divorce until further notice.’

That gruff, shaken tone was gone. It was almost as if that little display of emotion over his son had never happened. As if the wild little tumble on the sofa less than five minutes ago was already a distant memory.

But, no...there were tell-tale signs. Signs I didn’t want to notice. Like how deliciously tousled his dark, luxuriously wavy hair was now, courtesy of my restless fingers. How colour still rose in his chiselled cheekbones.

And that definitive bulge behind his fly—

With a willpower that threatened to sap the last of my composure I averted my gaze from the pillar of temptation he represented, and reminded myself why we were here in the first place. Dear heaven. I needed to be done with this before the desire I’d believed eroded by distance and absence made a complete fool of me.