Page 12 of Curvy Girl for the Billionaire

A shock goes through me as I feel the soft warmth of her skin against mine. I pull her slightly behind me as we make our way out.

Her fingers tense in mine, but she doesn’t pull away.

Once we’re safely ensconced in the back seat of my limo, the privacy feels like a sudden drop from a high cliff into deep water. My voice is rough with barely-contained desire as I turn to face her, our knees touching in the dim light of the car interior. “Charlie, I?—”

She holds up a hand, her eyes searching mine in the half-light. "Alex, we need to set some boundaries," she says softly, yet there’s an iron undercurrent to her voice that commands my full attention.

I grit my teeth, frustration boiling inside me. I want to object, to pull her into my arms and erase all the formalities with a kiss.

But instead, I exhale slowly, trying to cage the beast of possessiveness roaring in my chest. "Tell me," I manage to say through clenched teeth.

"Tonight was too much," she admits, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear—a nervous gesture that doesn’t escape me. "You were...too intense. I get we want to make it believable, but maybe try not to put off such jealous vibes? I don’t think that’s such a good look for your image. I’m thinking it should be more the ‘happy couple’ vibes for what you’re trying to achieve, don’t you?”

I grit my teeth together. Damn it, she’s right—if this really was fake dating, that is, and of course that’s all it is to her because that’s how my dumb ass presented all this.

Something raw twists in my guts. It's more than playacting, more than a charade for the benefit of prying eyes. I'm out of my depth here, drowning in a sea of emotions that have no right to exist in our agreement.

"I know," I concede with a nod, the word gritted out between teeth that hardly want to let it escape. "It's just...hard. Watching them look at you like that. I would never be okay with men ogling my girl like that."

Her gaze softens, and those damn beautiful eyes pierce through my heart. "Alex," she starts, her voice a soothing balm that threatens to undo me, "I’m used to it.”

I damn near see red. She’s used to it?

But then her voice grounds me, “But I can take care of myself. And when we’re out in public, I’m yours.”

I know she’s speaking professionally, but hearing Charlie say she’s mine soothes the beast inside me that was struggling to break free at the thought that my woman is used to men leering at her like she’s a piece of meat.

Her reassurance flickers through me like a warm flame, calming the storm that had been raging within. The car’s smooth motion and the privacy of the darkened interior allow me to regain some semblance of control over my emotions.

As we glide through the city streets, I can’t help but glance at her intermittently, watching how the streetlights play across her features.

Each time I look at her, I feel that now-familiar pull—like a tide drawn irresistibly to the moon. It nudges me closer to her until our shoulders brush slightly.

Charlie doesn't move away. Instead, she lets out a soft sigh, tilting her head to rest against my shoulder. The simple gesture unravels me more than any heated exchange could.

In this quiet space between heartbeats, something shifts.

And when we pull up outside her apartment, it takes everything in me not to haul her to my chest and never let her go.

My eyes watch her as she enters the drab building that’s not good enough for a woman like her.

She belongs back at my penthouse with me where I can spoil her and give her everything her heart desires.

If only I can make her see that.

seven

. . .

Charlie

Heat coils in my belly as I step into the grand ballroom, clinging to Alex's arm. The room glimmers with crystal chandeliers and a hunger that mirrors my own—a hunger I tamp down because this—us—it's not real.

"Relax, Charlie," Alex whispers, his breath warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. He squeezes my hand, a gesture meant to reassure but it only ignites the fire inside me.

I'm playing a role, I remind myself sternly. Eye candy on the arm of Alexander Bennett, billionaire CEO, at a charity ball—it's all business, even if my body screams otherwise.

His suit hugs his muscular frame, the sight commanding as much attention as the wealth whispering through the air.

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