Page 6 of The Billionaire's Desire

My mouth fell open. "Jacob..." I didn't know what else to say. Suicide? Jacob almost killed himself? Even though I knew that the story had a happy ending, my heart was racing. My mouth was bone dry.

"There was no fence back then," he continued, not looking at me. "Just this knee high grass as far as the eye could see that my grandfather was too tired to mow. How long did they have? They'd leave me and I'd have nothing. I'd just have my mother...and I'd be as miserable as my father.

So I sat down, the rifle trembling in my hands. It wasn’t a bulky thing but it felt heavy. So goddamn heavy. And then I heard the crunch behind me. I tried to hide the rifle, but I knew she'd seen it. That was the worst part—looking into her big brown eyes and seeing that she knew.” He paused, the pain of it as fresh on his face as if it were yesterday instead of years ago. “You know what she said to me? 'I'm not gonna be here forever, Jacob. To keep you honest and make sure you know that you are loved. To tell you that as bad as things may seem, they'll get better. And you'll be better. You have to believe it. You're gonna set the world on fire someday—and don't let anyone, ever, turn your light off.'

I didn't even realize I had a hand covering my mouth until tears splashed onto my skin, meeting the wall and going no further.

"She held out her hand and I gave her the gun,” he continued. “Her other one helped me from the ground. She put it back in their bedroom then called me in the kitchen to help her make dinner." His eyes shot over to me, and I didn't miss the sheen of emotion before he glanced away. "If it hadn't been for that accident, some drunk redneck t-boning them one night after they left a late movie, she would have given me the ring herself. She would have met you and known that I loved you and wanted to give you the world—and some diamond that took up half your hand," he said with a small chuckle. "And Nan would have reminded me that love was about more than money."

He brought a shaky hand to my cheeks, wiping away my tears. "She saved me once, Leila--but you saved me too. You showed me that it was okay to let you in. That it was okay to love someone."

He tipped my chin and I spread into his lips. Feeling his embrace. Wanting and needing nothing else. I knew it was cliché, that a kiss could be so earth shatteringly amazing that it took your breath away, but I was dizzy, my head spinning from his confession and the power of the kiss he pressed on my lips. I remembered that cafe back in Venice, snorting 'poor little rich boy' when Allegra talked about Jacob's pain. How clueless I'd been; naive to think that his childhood just made him guarded. It broke him.

But eyes closed, lips parted, tasting him, feeling Jacob--I saw a man that was putting the pieces back together. A man that loved me so much that I was ashamed I'd ever questioned it.

His arms roped around my waist and he pulled me tight against him. The kiss was still sweet, imploring, but he pulled me to my feet and those hands had already flipped the page and were focusing on another four letter word--lust.

My heart hammered in my chest as the buttons of my blouse were freed, the zipper of my skirt yanked downward. He reclaimed my mouth and my tongue darted between his lips. My eyes flew open when my brazen action sunk in, not knowing what he needed, but from the tight swell I felt against my lower abdomen, I had a feeling he would give no complaints.

Still I stood there, my bra the only clothing keeping me from being completely nude. His eyes drank in my body before his blue eyes settled on my obedient gaze, arms locked behind my back, hooded eyes staring from behind dark curls.

"You would submit to me?" he asked, visibly shocked.

The word ‘submit’ sent a flash slicing through me and I felt my answer slicking my naked lips. "Absolutely."

"For me?" The surprise in his voice. Like he'd expected his revelation to change something.

I brought my hands up, my fingertips stroking the perfect line of his jaw. "For us."

"Lay." It was a groan. A plea and I saw in his eyes the consuming love he never thought he'd have or deserve burning bright.

And then it stilled, the deliciously powerful gleam returning.

He grabbed my wrist, and quicker than I could say 'holy crap' he'd spun me around and pushed me up against the door. My chest was smashed against the wood. Pinned—for the second time in one night.

The angle of the arm he still held was odd. Disorienting. It wasn't painful, but I knew if I tried to reposition myself or pull from his grasp, all bets were off.

His other hand cupped my bare bottom, squeezing it. He was clearly still in a teasing mood as well. He’d tug the globes apart, spreading me and sending cool air to my heated flesh, and just as I felt lust seeping, sure he’d touch me there, he'd release me.

"I can smell your arousal," he said huskily. Both hands released me and my arms hung like limp spaghetti noodles at my side. Of course he could smell me. I wanted him so bad that I shook, my core leaking desire that coated my inner thigh.

I sucked in a breath as he moved back in, his erection snug against the curve of my bottom.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes," I whispered hoarsely. My brain was tapioca pudding, but I realized my mistake as soon as he reached around and took my arms, holding them above my head. Jacob didn't like whispers. He liked moans. He liked to hear me scream.

He pushed his groin against me again, rocking into me, giving me a taste of what was to come.

"I can’t hear you, Leila." His hands gripped my shoulders.

"Yes," I said, louder, with an edge that made him dig his fingertips into me. The warmth of pain seeped in with the need.

Just the way I liked it.

"Tell me what you want."

I tried to lick my lips but my body was flush against the door and all I could taste was dust and the bitterness of the old wood. The clock was ticking. The quicker I answered, the quicker I'd feel him.

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