Page 94 of The Billionaires

“Good girl,” he murmurs, regarding me with molten eyes. “Are you ready for another round?”

Another round of what? I look down and gape at the throbbing erection he’s sporting.

How can it look even bigger than the first time? And how can he be ready again? None of my exes had this short of a refractory period.

Does he like my feet this much?

Whatever the reason for the recuperation, there’s a compliment in there somewhere.

I crawl to get the condom as fast as my jellied bones allow, and then I hand it to him.

“Get on all fours,” he orders, stroking his massive erection.

I gleefully obey, and in an eyeblink, he’s entering me again, gently at first, then more assuredly as I adjust to him.

His first deep thrust makes my eyes roll into the back of my head. After the second one, I ball my fists in the sheets, a fresh tension building in my core. He picks up his pace, thrusting harder and faster, until the tension threatens to overflow.

“Come for me,” he rasps, and his hips piston into me, wrenching moans from my lips.

Just as I’m on the edge, he grabs my feet, squeezing them with just the right pressure—and I come with a scream, my toes curling under his strong fingers.

“Fuck,” he grunts as I feel his release, which gives me a little aftershock orgasm of my own.

Drained, I drop onto the bed, my eyes closed and my body limp.

It’s official. I’m ruined for all other men—and that’s before he takes me back to the shower and treats me to another sensual washing.

When we’re back in bed, he arranges me in a spooning position, then wraps his arms around me and breathes into the back of my neck.

This is nice.

No. Nice doesn’t cut it.

This is bliss.

I sigh contentedly. In this moment, it’s very easy to imagine this thing between us working out—and without any heartache. The outside world already thinks that we’re together, so we would just need to change a few little labels, right? And let’s be honest… For me, the adjustment will be minuscule, thanks to all the things I’ve been feeling that I wasn’t supposed to.

The big question is: is he on the same page?

His actions tonight strongly point in that direction, especially how tenderly he’s holding me right now. Yet a chilly worry spreads through my veins. He’s still a gorgeous billionaire, and I’m a small business owner who sometimes misreads the labels on boxes of fertilizer.

What if tonight was just about getting laid for him? What if he’s not viewing it as a momentous occasion, but a momentary lapse of reason?

The longer I lie there, the more worried I get.

Suddenly, he pulls his arms away.

Does he need the bathroom or something?

He removes his whole body, leaving my back feeling cold.

Confused and concerned, I turn over.

Lucius is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking uncomfortable.

I sit up. “What are you doing?”

“Going home.” Not meeting my gaze, he jumps to his feet and starts hunting for his clothes. “You’ll want the bed for yourself.”

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