Page 8 of The Billionaire's Gamble

“W-what about you?” She asks shyly, glancing briefly at the erection straining against my pants before returning her gaze to my face, her blush deepening.

“I'm all good, Honey,” I say, gently stroking her cheek. "Nothing a cold bath can't fix.”

She looks at the bulge in my pants again and for a moment, I catch the fleeting regret in her eyes, and I feel a sudden surge of masculine pride.Of course, she wants all of me.Then her lips curve in a soft, sated smile, her eyes slowly closing. In a matter of moments, she's sound asleep.

One hour later, after a long andverycold shower, I slip back into bed, turn out the light, and pull Hannah's soft body against mine. She comes easily, instantly snuggling into me. Anunconscious smile tugs at my lips as I bury my face in her neck and draw the covers over both of us.

For the first time since I remember, I feel…peaceful.

Chapter Four

Hannah

I open my eyes slowly, waking up in a soft, luxurious bed that isn't mine. Disoriented at first, my head hazy with sleep, I blink a few times, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The events of the previous night suddenly flood my head—the way Dean touched me, the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and the heat in his eyes as he teased me. I remember how he made me come undone with just his hand and mouth, overwhelming my senses with sensations I've never felt before, desires I never knew I had.

I’ve never been touched that way by anyone.I don't think I want to be touched that way by anyone else ever again…The feelings he stirred in me are so intense, so consuming, and I find myself craving more. I wish he'd gone all the way last night, yet I'm grateful he didn't. It was perfect the way it was—tantalizing, leaving me wanting more.

I turn to see Dean sleeping peacefully beside me. He looks so handsome, even rumpled with sleep. His chiseled jaw is relaxed, his sexy lips slightly parted, and his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sheets barely cover his toned abs, and his arm is draped heavily over me.

Carefully, I slip out from under his arm, not wanting to wake him. I tiptoe out of the bedroom, taking in the suite in the daylight. Everything looks different in the morning light—still luxurious but with a warmth that makes it feel almost homely. I find the adjoined kitchen and walk over to the fancy coffee maker, figuring out how to use it. I start making two cups of coffee, the rich aroma filling the air.

As I’m finishing up, I feel a warm body at my back as strong arms come around me.Dean.I instinctively lean back into him. He slowly runs his palms up my arms, brushes my hair back, and kisses my neck.

“Good morning, Honey,” he rumbles, placing another soft kiss on my temple. My insides turn to jelly, goosebumps rising on my skin at his touch. For a moment, I almost forget how to breathe.

“Making coffee?” He asks, looking over my shoulder at the coffee maker.

I nod. “Thought we could use some.”

He smiles against my neck, the feeling of his lips sending shivers down my spine. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “Thank you.”

I blush, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the coffee. “You're welcome.”

“I'll make breakfast,” he says, setting the coffee cup on the counter beside mine, then looks up at me with a tender smile that never fails to make my heart skip vital beats. “What would you like to eat?”

“You cook?” I ask, blinking at him in surprise.

He chuckles, making a face at me. “Don’t look so shocked. I worked in restaurants for years before I made it this far.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Sorry, it’s just kind of hard to believe.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” he says, rolling his eyes in a way that only makes me laugh harder. “I’ll surprise you. Prepare to be amazed, Honey,” he plants a kiss on my forehead before smacking my ass and telling me to sit down.

Why does this feel so natural, like we've done it a thousand times?

“How long did you work in restaurants?” I ask, desperate to keep learning more about him.

He’s pulling ingredients from the fridge; eggs, cheese, butter, a variety of vegetables, and what looks to be fresh ground sausage. I’m shocked what I assumed was his bachelor pad is so well stocked. He takes out some pans and cutting boards and starts chopping peppers before he answers.

“From the time I was sixteen, I needed to earn extra money to keep the house going. My dad had a pretty severe drinking problem, and my mom could barely keep us afloat. If I wanted to eat well, or go to the movies with a friend, or make sure our electricity stayed on, I had to pull my own weight. I worked as a line cook across the country for almost a decade before transferring to bartending. I did that until a few years ago, when I decided to gamble everything I had on a poker game, and it paid off,” he finishes, gesturing his knife around the penthouse.

I’m kind of stunned, I wasn’t truly expecting him to come from such humble beginnings. It makes me wonder how else I may have misjudged him and want to spend even more time with him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that so young,” I say with a sad smile. I take a breath before asking, “How is your dad now?”

A flash of disappointment crosses his face. “He died a few years ago. His liver couldn’t keep up with him and there was nothing we could do.” He goes back to furiously chopping. “My mom still lives back in Kansas City, but she’s well taken care of now. Finally getting to live her life for herself,” he says.

At that moment, something shifts in his expression and before I know it, I'm squashed against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around me. I close my eyes and settle into his embrace, listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath my ear.

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