Page 41 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

I can’t look away. He gazes at me with such a bold and wicked promise that I feel drugged on the spot. We connect—before we even touch—in such an unspeakably strong magnetism that it would be a crime to consider anything but giving in. It’s impossible to turn back now. I yearned for him all night. There’s no beating around the bush about this.

Once we came back from the creek, I headed inside my cottage without stopping to check in or speak to Marian. I couldn’t face her then, so mad at myself for being too afraid to let my feelings for Caleb win. I didn’t go to dinner either, too shy to face the man I couldn’t stop thinking about. But when I got so hungry that I couldn’t stand it on top of the twisting and churning sensation of desire low in my stomach, I went to the kitchen and grabbed leftovers. That was an hour ago, and being inside the house and near Caleb, knowing he was just upstairs all alone, pushed me over the edge.

The longer I kept myself away from him, the more I wanted to be with him. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and when you throw in a heavy dose of lust, it makes a skittish woman like me get too close to insanity.

Yet now that we are together and so alone in his room in the darkness of the night, I need to remind myself why I came. It’s not just because I want him. He has teased me and shown me enough of his fit body that I drool over him. More than that, he makes me feel alive, not down, when we bicker. He makes me feel wanted, not criticized, when he flirts. He respects that I need control, and even though he saw how badly I wanted him earlier, he didn’t push himself on me. He doesn’t now either, letting me decide if I want anything to happen. Knowing that he’ll hold himself in check and let me pick what I want is the ultimate turn-on after a lifetime of never being able to.

Caleb is not like Jeremy. And in the sense of fearing I’ll miss out, I know Caleb will be unlike any other man I can let into my life.

Before I drive myself crazy with his nearness, I surrender. No, I take charge. I reach out for him, framing his face roughly to yank him close. The second his lips crash against mine, he grunts. His mouth is needy and insistent, and I love it. He pushes me to the door, kissing me like he’ll die if he slacks in this chance to devour me. I gasp at the pressure, and the moment my lips part, his tongue darts in to duel with mine. We tango. We fight. And we savor the raw heat of the moment with our lips and tongues in this sloppy, wet give-and-take. We are used to fighting and bickering, but in this, we come together with one goal.

To have each other. To enjoy all we can claim. I break the kiss, knocking my head back against the door. I pant and gasp, unable to catch my breath with how sexy and desired he makes me feel. My lips tingle. Every inch of my skin feels too tight, like I can’t stand the weight of any clothes hanging on me. He stares at me with a question in his eyes, and I lunge back against him to seal my lips to his. When he lifts his hands to hold me, I snake my arms around him and hold him tight. Now that I have taken the scary step of coming to him and admitting I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, I can’t bear the thought of parting from him. I’m glued to him, embracing him, and wishing no clothes stood between us.

My breasts are achy and sensitive, feeling so heavy pressed up against his chest despite the clothes we haven’t removed. The friction of my nipples against his hard muscles fuels me with a raging desire to have all of him. To feel all of him. I never want to forget this feeling. I am alive in this moment, powerful to not only recognize but obey this sensual moment.

I’ve never experienced such a shattering need like this. The desire and slight love I first held for Jeremy fizzled out fast. Once he joined forces with my parents to control me, sex felt like a chore with him when he demanded I pleasure him when his girlfriends weren’t available. I only ever got off when I did it myself in those sporadic times I cared to try. Once he started cheating on me, or when I knew he was, I lost all desire to please myself. I assumed I was unlovable, unwanted, and too damaged to not even entice my fiancé.

That won’t happen again. Pinned against the bedroom door as I kiss Caleb like I’ll wither away to nothing without his mouth on me, I have no doubt at all that this big, strong man wants me. Only me. His hands greedily rove over me. He grips the back of my head, fisting my hair. Then he’s clutching my ass, digging his fingers in like he’s afraid to let go. It’s not enough. I will combust and waste away if I can’t experience the heat of his flesh against mine.

I push up into him, kissing him harder and urging him to move away from the door. He takes my hint and follows my lead, spinning so I’m further from the door. His hands remain on me, and everywhere he caresses me, he leaves a burning trail of need.

But he doesn’t push me. He doesn’t goad me into anything else. After the relentless way he’s flirted with me, he shows me the opposite here. He’s letting me decide.

Once I gave him my consent at the door, saying yes with that little nod, he’s put this show in my hands. So, it’s my turn to pull him. I clutch his shirt, both lifting it up to suggest he lose it and also to tug him closer to the huge bed behind me.

He breaks the kiss for just a moment to yank his t-shirt up and over his head. It flies to the floor, and the brief show of his sculpted chest makes me whine with impatience. I’m clumsy as I reach for my shirt, and when I grunt in frustration at the slowness of my trembling fingers, he takes my hands.

“Easy, sweetheart.” He kisses me tenderly. “I’ve got you.”

It’s in that moment that I realize he does. When he first arrived, I swore he wouldn’t get close enough to even try. Now, I’m thrilled that he is and has.

I lift my arms to gesture for him to strip me. He grabs my shirt and wrenches it over my head, and his heavy-lidded gaze on my breasts makes me wetter. The flimsy bra I’m wearing doesn’t hide much.

“Damn, sweetheart.”

I grin, loving that growly sound of appreciation. I smooth my hands over his jaw, rubbing my thumbs over his cheeks. Staring him in the eye, I kiss him hard. I stay close to his mouth as I whisper, “Please, Caleb. Make me yours.”

He growls that filthy, needy sound again before he crushes his lips to mine. His hands don’t stay still. He unhooks my bra and I drape my arms over his shoulders to bring him closer for a heady kiss. He trips into me, making me giggle as we tumble onto the bed together. He rolls me until I’m beneath him, and his lips never leave me.

I drown in the addictive, dangerous taste of him, but his hands are gentle. I don’t miss the urgency and impatience that he barely keeps in check, but his touch isn’t demanding like Jeremy’s was.

His fingers make quick work of pulling my shorts and panties off, and as he lowers his mouth to my breast, I cry out. I keep him there, threading my fingers through his hair to secure his head between my breasts. He cups one and pinches my nipple while he closes his hot mouth over the other and sucks the sensitive tip in hard.

It’s still not enough. He knows it just as well as I do, learning how to please me with the muted sounds I try to quieten, knowing these walls are thin.

He lowers his hand to work on getting his clothes off, but he’s not as quick and smooth with his movements. When he falters to remove his pants and boxers, I reach down to help him, to get him naked and to get my first feel of that thick, hard length he thinks he’ll be able to fit inside me.

Jeremy wasn’t impressive. He thought he was, and apparently Rachel likes them on the smaller side. But Caleb is hung like a horse. My cheeks burn as I stroke him and realize how much larger and thicker he is. Also how long it’s been for me.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I lick my lips and he growls, ducking his head to kiss me. I don’t stop stroking him, pumping my fist, and loving the tortured sounds he gives me. I revel in the feel of his velvety hardness. I caress the veins with my fingertip, then trace my thumb around the leaking, bulbous head, hoping I get a chance to follow and explore all these lines with my mouth and tongue, too. I’ve never been a fan of oral because Jeremy demanded it of me so often that it removed any sense of intimacy. With Caleb, I’m not afraid or too shy to want to taste him at all. Already, he has proven to be a patient and gentle lover.

“I’m not sure how you’ll fit,” I confess.

His smile is wicked, and I grin right back at him. I’m not scared, but curious. Everything feels new, and I doubt it will feel like this with any other man.

He thrusts his hips and grinds into my hand. As he kisses me so hungrily, I line him up to finally enter me. My legs fall apart, and Caleb fits perfectly between my thighs. As soon as I bring the tip to my entrance, I hold my breath. He rears back, noticing that I’ve stiffened a bit. He’s so tuned in to me, noticing my hesitance. He reaches down and covers my hand with his, to guide himself in with my control. He waits. “I’m clean, but—”

---