Page 72 of The Billionaire Experience

“I do live here.” Her heart pounded against her ribcage when he studied her for a prolonged beat. She lived with Brody under different circumstances than she’d lived with Dustin. As a reminder to herself not to make too much of this arrangement, she added, “For now.”

“For now.” He pressed another kiss to her lips.

“Thank you for the dresses.” The formal gown for the charity ball had required tailoring, but Dana had assured her it would arrive in the next five to six days. Reagan didn’t doubt that it would show up on time. “It’s awe-inspiring how well a billionaire is treated at a department store. I’ve never been catered to like that.”

“That’s good to hear.” He crouched to roll her panties down her legs, leaving her uncomfortable high heels in place. “I like to be first.”

He lifted the red fabric and vanished beneath the skirt. The next thing she knew, her knees were buckling under his slippery, wet assault. As tired as she was, she wasn’t surprised when she sagged against the nearest wall. He lifted and then tossed one of her legs onto his shoulder. Open to him this way, she was at the perfect angle for?—

“Oh!”

He continued his intimate exploration while she kneaded his head with her hands. He inserted one finger, then two, working her while he lapped at her clitoris with his tongue. The full sensation of him touching her paired with the sharp throbbing in her most sensitive part was almost too much.

Almost.

She was not the Reagan who came on contact like that first time with Brody. This version of her knew she was worthy of the finest fabrics and champagne. She conversed with billionaires at parties, never wanted for anything, and enjoyed her work more now that she needn’t worry about the bills. This version of her owned her own home—this one—and a few others in their favorite cities. She and Brody vacationed in Madrid and flew to New Orleans for breakfast on a random Wednesday…

Despite trying to stay grounded, the fantasy life bloomed in front of her, bright and vivid.

For as long as Reagan could remember she’d struggled. She hadn’t seen it as struggling at the time, and she’d never been afraid of hard work. But perhaps she’d been a little too independent. A little too accepting of her circumstances. In this fantasy world with Brody, she enjoyed the best life had to offer. She was an intimate part of his world… A permanent part.

In reality, she had no preconceived ideas about their future together. She had no idea when he planned on leaving Merriweather. And when he did leave, she didn’t know for sure where she’d be living. There were a lot of unknowns.

What she did know was that whenever he touched her, she felt alive. And whenever she inspired him to run for his laptop, she knew she mattered.

Her orgasm crashed into her out of nowhere, fragmenting the homey image of them sharing a Bromelet and coffee while reading the Sunday newspaper. The golden sunrise transitioned to fluorescent neon, contrasted against a black night sky.

She came, her hips pumping, her knees giving out, those damn shoes pinching the life out of her toes. “Ow, ow.” She slapped one hand against the wall to hold herself up as Brody emerged from under her skirt.

His hair was a disaster, his eyes glazed, his lips damp and inviting. “What happened?”

“I hate these shoes.”

He pulled them off, one after the other, and tossed them aside.

“Careful with those. They’re my only pair.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He lifted her off her feet and carried her down the hallway while she laughed against the strong column of his neck.

“You’re spoiled,” she murmured before nibbling his earlobe. “You’re also great with your mouth. Who taught you that? Was it Marla? Or Petrina? Or?—”

He stamped her mouth with a hard kiss. He tasted like sex and sin. “You bring it out in me, Reagan. This entire experience with you has been unique. That’s the truth.”

She could relate.

He set her on her feet. She ignored the throb in her toes as she unknotted the tie at his neck. “You look good in a suit, but I prefer you naked.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Listen to you stating what you want.”

“I’m indulging.”

“Honey.” He swept the hair away from her face and cradled her cheek. “You should always indulge when you’re with me.”

She hummed, her mind firmly planted in her fantasy world. Even so, she enjoyed being in this house. With its jiggly lock, squeaky flooring, and the shelves she’d hand-painted but hadn’t installed yet. It was as if her reality and fantasy worlds had collided.

Was that possible?

She ignored the dangerous question as she worked the buttons on his shirt. She spread her hands over his bare chest and then teased one of his nipples with her tongue. His hand slipped off her jaw when she sank to her knees.

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