Page 51 of Forbidden Billionaire
His eyes are dark, but not unreadable. Everything about him appears calm, controlled. But I know otherwise. I see the single vein that pulses in his neck. I can’t look away from it. It’s proof that he’s not made of stone after all. He wants me.
My throat goes dry, and I should look away, but I can’t. He has me in an unbreakable hold.
We’re close, so close. Not dangerously so, but on the edge.
My mind screams run, but every part of me yearns for him, and I shift almost imperceptibly in his direction.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Swallowing hard, I wet my lips. His eyes track the movement like a predator waiting to pounce. The way he’s taking me in makes me ache, low and tight.
“Say it.” His words are a whisper and entreaty. His voice rumbles through me, down to the place between my legs that’s already shamefully slick.
I take a breath that rattles in my chest. “I want…” I clench my hands into fists at my sides. It would be so much easier if he’d take control, absolve me of responsibility.
But he won’t.
As always, he’s demanding things happen on his terms. “I want you to touch me.” My voice barely carries. But the way he goes still—that’s how I know he heard every broken syllable.
He takes one step closer. Then another. And then he’s in my space, that big, hard body of his radiating a heat that makes my knees threaten to buckle.
“I want nothing more.”
My hand is shaking so hard that my drink threatens to splash over the rim.
He plucks the stemware from my hand and leaves me long enough to place both glasses on the dining-room table. There’s a soft clink that feels final, as if we’ve passed the point of no return.
Moments later, he’s back, standing bare inches from me.
“Where, Seraphina?” His voice is velvet and command, wrapping around me, making me fall under his spell. “Tell me exactly where you want my hands.”
He’s asking the impossible. I’ve never done anything like this before.
I breathe him in. Right now it’s leather and champagne and a hint of something much darker. The scent of a forbidden billionaire who’s tasted every temptation and come back hungry for more.
“My hips. Please.”
He lifts a single brow, as if testing my resolve. Then he does it, settling his big, powerful hands right where I asked him to.
“You good?”
“Yes.”
With a satisfied nod, he brushes his thumbs across the hint of bare skin above the waistband of my shorts. The touch is almost gentle. It’s the promise that makes me shiver.
“Good girl.”
The words drop into me like a stone in water—rippling out, stirring an emotion that’s as real as it is needy.
“And now?” He dips his head, his lips a hair’s breadth from my ear.
The warmth of him turns my bones to liquid.
I squeeze my thighs together. The seam of the shorts presses right where I’m pulsing for him. He has to know. He always knows.
“More.” The word comes out like a confession, half sobbed.
He sweeps his thumbs up my sides, finding that tender dip where my ribs flare. His fingers flex, pressing me closer, caging me without ever truly restraining me. If I wanted to, I could move away, but every cell in my body wants to step closer instead.
