Page 26 of Filthy Rich

“I didn’t know,” I say helplessly.

“What, that I’ve been thinking about you? That I can’t think about anything but you?” Husky laugh as he runs a hand up my back and into my hair, squeezing my neck and making me croon. Right here on the dance floor. Funny how other guys I’ve dabbled with couldn’t seem to heat me up no matter what they did, yet Lucien is showing signs of being able to make me come anywhere and everywhere. “I’m a better actor than I thought.”

“You’re a great actor.” That sultry voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to me. “I can’t read you at all.”

“That’s going to change. So…should we finish the dance? Or should we spend our vacation enjoying each other and go back to our regular lives relaxed and happy with great memories?”

There it is. The moment of truth. One I didn’t see coming at all. My options? I can go back to my room right now, resume my shy, unassuming and sexually boring life and pretend none of this ever happened. Or I can follow where he leads for what will surely be the adventure of a lifetime. Will that second option end with me getting my feelings hurt by this intriguing and sophisticated man who has a million times more experience—in every arena—than I do? Undoubtedly.

But that’s then.

This is now.

And I know that if I let this opportunity pass me by, I’ll regret it. Probably forever.

Besides, I’ve already made my decision.

So I find some courage and sensual daring I didn’t know I had. I know he’s not going to disappoint me, and I’m going to do my inexperienced best not to disappoint him.

“Finish the dance? Bad idea.” I hesitate, then overcome my pounding heartbeat and plow ahead as though I do this sort of thing all the time. “Unless you want all these people to see me when I come for you.”

His breath catches.

“Absolutely not.” He lets me go just enough to lace our fingers together as he leads me off the dance floor. “That pleasure is for my eyes only.”

I can’t stop a triumphant laugh as we leave and head back up the stairs. We shoot sidelong glances at each other as go. I’m excited, but his face is hard and tight, dark with purpose. Halfway up, I realize I’m falling behind and his impatience is hanging by a frayed thread. I wonder if he’ll pull a Rhett Butler and scoop me up to get to his cabin as quickly as possible. He’s the kind of man who would do such a thing. I know he is.

The idea thrills me.

As does everything about him.

I don’t know what strange twist of fate has thrown the two of us together for this moment out of time, but I’m not questioning it. I’m not afraid of him. I don’t doubt him. I don’t expect anything from him beyond tonight. And I swear to myself I won’t be a baby and regret it tomorrow, when I see him talking to some other beautiful woman or a thousand beautiful women.

I just want him.

We reach the top of the staircase, climb another smaller staircase and turn down a long corridor I’ve never seen before. I didn’t know that passenger cabins went this high on the ship, higher even than Mrs. Hooper’s cabin, but I suppose she’s only in millionaires’ row. This must be billionaires’ row, not that I care about any of that. I just wish the cabins weren’t spread so far apart up here.

“This one,” he says, producing a key card when we reach a doorway down at the end. He ushers me inside a sparsely lit but stunning cabin—actually, it’s a suite, I see at a sweeping glance—that looks like a Park Avenue penthouse. The sliding glass balcony doors are open, letting in a cool breeze that feels exquisite against my overheated skin.

We stare at each other for a breathless second or two, his wide eyes mirroring my astonishment at this turn of events. Then we reach for each other, coming together in a hard embrace. My hands go back to his shoulders and quickly do away with his jacket. His hands go to my ass, grabbing handfuls to anchor me as he grinds against me, hitting a hidden sweet spot. Sensations spark and shower through me, making me cry out.

I’m completely wild for him.

Already.

I never knew I could get this hot and feel this driving urgency. Color me deliciously surprised.

He takes my face in his hands and ducks his head to kiss me, his lush lips warm and commanding. His mouth slants over mine, little nibbles and bites that inflame and quickly turn to luxuriant sweeps of his tongue. He tastes like scotch. He feels like every X-rated fantasy I ever had come to startling life. I open for him, sucking him deeper, and he groans with approval, his hands growing rougher as wraps them in my hair to angle my head the way he wants it.

This all happens as he backs me toward the bed, all four of our restless hands fumbling with his belt and zipper. He wins, the sound of his zipper sliding down a welcome relief. He lets his pants drop and pushes me back onto the bed. I laugh and kick my sandals off as I tumble, too triumphant to keep it all inside. He’s rough, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

He looms over me in the semidarkness, his face shadowed as he reaches sideways for his nightstand and jerks the drawer open. I lever myself on my elbows as an unwelcome but persistent thought weasels its way to the front of my mind. I focus on his eyes as he sheathes himself, too worried about the information I must impart to concern myself with the details of what I already know to be a sizable dick.

I don’t want to tell him. But the poor man deserves to know.

“Wait,” I say, holding him off as he starts to straddle me.

He backs off immediately, clenching his hands at his sides as the frustration radiates off him in waves.

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