Page 71 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

Excitement swoops through me like a swarm of bats leaving a cave at dusk.

“Ah.” Fuck. My voice barely works. I clear my throat and try again. “With anyone in particular?”

“There’s this one amazing guy I have my eye on,” she says, holding my gaze.

“I see,” I say, reaching for her hand. “Why don’t you dance with me until he gets here?”

Her lips curve into a seductive smile, full of amusement, secrets and promises. I could never begin to guess everything that’s behind that smile. But it combines with the soft glide of her palm against mine, the candlelight and my sudden reversal of fortune to create a deliciously spellbound feeling that should probably be illegal in most states.

I don’t want this moment to ever end.

On the other hand, I can’t wait to move inside her again.

Meanwhile, the music does its part for romance when the song switches to “Wonderful Tonight.” The little band is no Eric Clapton, but it doesn’t matter. It’s perfect.

I reel her in, relishing the supple feeling of her torso as it settles against mine and we begin to sway together. She brings the scent of berries with her, the subtle fragrance acting like a stimulant to every nerve ending in my body. I ease closer, gluing my free hand to the lowest G-rated point on her back that I can manage, and press my lips to her forehead.

My touch makes her shiver. Not exactly winning the Super Bowl in double overtime, but it sure feels like it.

A shudder ripples through me as my eyes involuntarily roll closed.

Heaven.

“Help me out here,” I murmur, my lips brushing across her skin. “I’m not sure if I should say you look wonderful tonight or not. I don’t want you thinking I care whether you show up in a chef’s apron or a ball gown. As long as you show up. What should I do?”

I run my lips down to a sexy little spot close to her ear that allows me to feel her cheeks plump when she smiles.

“Well. I did put a lot of effort into dressing up this once.”

“Fair enough.” I pull back so we can see each other. “You look wonderful tonight, Ella.”

“So do you,” she says, her eyes holding mine. “Now maybe you can help me out.”

“How’s that?” I say, distracted by a distinct change in her expression, a new glow that seems unconnected to the candlelight hitting her face.

“I’m not sure whether I should tell you I love you right now or wait until we’re alone in your room. What should I do?”

I freeze right there in the middle of all the dancers. I had no idea that my heart could stop and explode at the same time. I also didn’t think that I could love this woman more than I already do, but I was wrong on both counts. I know exactly how far she’s come and how much courage it’s taken her to show up here tonight and use the L-word before I do. And that, in a nutshell, is why I’m so fucking crazy about this woman. There’s nothing she can’t do once she puts her mind to it.

“Oh, you’re going to wait until I can put my hands on you. Because I’m about to make you come until you can’t see straight.” Holding tight to her hand, I turn to lead her back toward the staircase. Screw the guests. Fuck this ball. Ryker out. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go,” she says with a sultry laugh.

The only things keeping me from taking off at a dead run are my aversion to causing a scene at my own event and my fear of making her stumble in her heels. Still, we make good time up the stairs, and I begin to think we made a clean getaway. Until we hit the landing and turn toward the east wing and my bedroom.

Where we run into Damon and Carly standing with Griffin and Bellamy. They’ve got their heads together and all seem to be talking at the same time, buzzing with excitement like kids plotting a stakeout of the tree on Christmas Eve. But they freeze at the sight of us, looking guilty.

Until Damon breaks into a crooked smile at my expense. “I’m not sure what you two kids are doing up here near the bedrooms when there’s a ball going on downstairs.”

A ripple of laughter passes through our audience.

“I’m going to go way out on a limb and say that they managed to patch things up,” Griffin says.

“I’m really happy for you two,” Bellamy says without missing a beat, “but we just got Ella into that dress five minutes ago. We haven’t even had a chance to take a picture of her in it.”

“Looks as though your pleas are falling on deaf ears, love,” Carly tells Bellamy in that dry British accent. “With the look on Ryker’s face right now, I’d say the life span of that amazing dress is about three more minutes. Sadly.”

“Funny,” I say, hanging on to Ella’s hand for dear life. The temptation is there to feel sheepish, but there’s no shame in my game. I’m crazy in love and plan to make sure Ella knows it. Immediately. “We’d love to stick around to see if the four of you can collectively produce one good joke, but Ella and I have some, ah, things to discuss.”

“And we’ll be discussing them all night, so don’t look for Ryker again downstairs,” Ella says with a pointed glance at me that does nothing to cool my surging blood.

“No worries,” Damon says. “As long as you two lovebirds make time for drinks with us at Bemelmans on Friday. That’s where we all met, as you’ll recall. On the same night about a year ago. We need a return visit. Maybe make it a tradition.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, oddly touched at the suggestion. Bemelmans. Where it all started. Huh. Funny to think how all our lives have changed since that night. I’m sure none of us would have predicted this outcome in a million years. “But right now, Ella and I have to go. We need to get our talk started. Right away.”

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