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His eyes met hers, but his features remained neutral even though she sensed an undercurrent. ‘You would have, had you not missed the point entirely and smiled at another man instead of the one you’re with.’

She stopped the urge to roll her eyes when she noted the interest coming their way from other diners. ‘We’re being watched.’

‘And? That shouldn’t be a new phenomenon for you.’

‘I’m used to an audience when I dance. This is different.’ Her fingers found the stem of her water glass. ‘Is that why you brought me here—because you knew your adoring acolytes would be ready to document your illustrious presence in their midst?’

One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Of course. Why else?’ he demanded imperiously.

Sage was struck with the sudden urge to see that smile grow with a genuine amusement that wasn’t at her expense.

She was sure the absurd compulsion was why she hastened into more conversation. ‘That place you mentioned. Ayia...?’

He stiffened slightly, his gaze growing hooded. ‘Ayia Hera.’

She nodded. ‘Is that where you’re from originally?’

A terse silence greeted her question, then he spoke. ‘It’s where my family emigrated from. I was born and raised in New York. The slums of the Bronx, to be exact.’

‘Do you have any family back in Ayia Hera?’

His jaw tightened for a moment. ‘No. I don’t.’

The answer was curt. A warning not to probe further. ‘What about New York? Do you have family—?’

Her words were cut off when he slid his hand over her nape, pulled her close and sealed his mouth over hers. The move was silky-smooth, executed with a predatory precision that would’ve stopped her breath, had the sensation of his warm, demanding mouth on hers not done that already. Just like this afternoon, the feeling was almost otherworldly in its devastating effect on her.

Shock held her still long enough for Xandro to press his mouth firmer against hers, for him to relearn the contours of her lips and then to sweep his tongue over her lower lip in an act so carnal heat shot straight between her legs.

The sensation was so unnervingly visceral, she jerked in her seat. In direct contrast to when his grip had tightened earlier, his fingers drifted over her neck, eliciting an intoxicating swell of pleasure that paralysed her. The fire spread, singeing her in places she’d never imagined a kiss could touch her before today.

When his thumb slid slowly along her jaw, she gasped. The act granted him entry. Xandro deepened the kiss, taking his time to explore her mouth before, just as abruptly as he’d taken hold of her, he released her.

CHAPTER NINE

HE CASUALLY SAT BACK, lifting one hand to beckon the hovering sommelier. Stunned and frozen in her chair, Sage tried in vain to calm her runaway pulse. The tingling that hadn’t quite abated from this afternoon now almost burned her mouth, and her stomach felt as if the bottom had dropped out of it.

The energetic buzz and the rise in conversation around them justified the creeping mortification of knowing their kiss had been witnessed and they were being gossiped about. Heat of a different kind surged up her neck and scorched her cheeks. She lifted her hand to her face. Or at least she tried to.

Xandro captured it in one of his, thwarting her by diverting it to his mouth. His lips brushed her knuckles, further sending her senses into free fall. When she attempted to use her other hand, he trapped that one too.

Grey eyes gone dark with hunger and whatever evil schemes he was concocting issued a warning at her as their wine was poured. Her whole body was on fire, and she couldn’t stop her brain from shrieking in shock.

He’d kissed her again. Without warning. As if he had every right. As if he owned her.

He’d done it to shut her up, she knew deep down. But the effect was the same. She felt...invaded. Thrillingly, decadently invaded. Unable to speak with their sommelier still pouring their chilled white wine, Sage swallowed, and subtly attempted to disengage her fingers from Xandro’s hold. He ignored her, holding on as he nodded to something the man said. She sat through the production of an ice bucket being set up next to Xandro and the arrival of their waiter to take their order.

‘Do you prefer the seafood or the salad starter, pethi mou?’ Xandro enquired in a low, deep voice. ‘Have the seafood.’

It took monumental effort to force her brain back on track. ‘I’ll have the salad,’ she told the waiter. She drew the line at having what s

he ate controlled by Xandro.

His eyes gleamed but he didn’t comment. She barely heard him dismiss their server, her every sense focused on the hand linked tightly with hers.

The moment they were alone she exhaled the pent-up angst roiling inside her. Then jumped when his lips grazed over her knuckles once again. ‘Stop. You... I...you can’t do that!’

She was shaking, she realised. He noticed too. Noticed and folded his hands over both of hers in a gesture that would’ve seemed warming or comforting to their avid audience. She watched, wide-eyed, as his thumb slowly caressed back and forth over her knuckles. ‘Pull yourself together, Sage. Our audience has grown.’

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