Page 52 of Forbidden Billionaire
He skims his mouth along my jaw, not quite kissing me. My breathing becomes erratic at the feel of his stubble scraping my skin. It’s as if they’re a thousand tiny sparks of sensual desire.
“Use your words, Seraphina.” My name is a growl, the edge in his tone making my nipples tighten under my thin tank top. “You want my mouth? My hands? You want me on my knees for you, or do you want to be the one kneeling?”
A whimper slips out before I can swallow it. Shame and hunger crash through me as my heartbeat thrums between my legs.
“I want—” My voice breaks. “God, Xavier, I want your mouth.”
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. A tiny grin curves his lips—wicked, beautiful. “Where?”
Heat floods my cheeks. The living room spins around us, and I desperately behind me to grip the windowsill, needing the cold glass against my spine as an anchor.
“My neck,” I breathe. Then, softer, my lips trembling, I add, “My breasts.”
His eyes flare with dark fire.
And I swear, the promise in that look makes my toes curl. I feel every inch of my skin, every inch he’s about to claim.
“Say please.”
God, he’s such a gorgeous bastard.
But I don’t care. I’d beg for him if I had to. Right now, I’d give him every piece of my pride, one humiliating scrap at a time.
“Please.” I’m not above begging.
He groans, low and rough, and then his mouth is on my throat, all heat and teeth and velvet.
Desperately I tip my head back, offering more as I dig my fingers into his shoulders, clutching his shirt, fisting the fabric as if it’s the only thing tethering me to earth.
When he drags his mouth lower, over my collarbone, over the neckline of my tank, I’m gone…becoming a trembling mess pressed against a wall of glass and city lights, baring myself to him, to Houston, to my own downfall.
I feel his lips curve against my skin when he finds the peak of my breast, his teeth scraping lightly through the thin cotton. I gasp, the sound torn from deep in my chest.
“You taste better than heaven.” He nips.
Softly I moan, the sound caught on a sob. My hands slip to his hair, threading through those dark strands, tugging him closer, always closer.
Heaven help me. I want more. I want everything. I want him to keep his promises and break them all at once.
I need him to devastate me—with his mouth, his hands.
He lowers himself slowly, eyes locked on mine, and when his breath hits the edge of my shorts, I forget how to breathe.
“Keep your hands right there, Ms. Hollis.” His tone is velvet. “I’m about to worship you like you’re a goddamn saint.”
And then he?—
Chapter Thirteen
Seraphina
Xavier slides his hands beneath my shirt, and I miss a breath as he skims his palms up my stomach, dragging the cotton with them. When he cups my breasts through the lace, I swear I forget my own name.
In a blink, he’s unhooked my bra and peeled the straps from my shoulders.
“Fuck, Seraphina.” With his thumbs, he traces the peaks of my nipples, making them tighten instantly. “Your breasts are the stuff of fantasies.” He presses a kiss between them, then another at the base of my throat.
By the time my shirt joins the pile on the floor, I’m swimming in desire.
