Page 30 of The Billionaires' Prize

The room smells like her. A mix of femininity and class. Woman plus the spray she uses on her pillow.

Still not sure of my welcome, I cross to the bathroom door. Steam billows out, and the lights flanking the mirrors give the room an ethereal glow.

The shower takes up the entire far wall with two shower heads and a glass door. Beneath the spray, Katherine rinses shampoo from her hair. Through the speckled glass, I watch the bubbles snake down her torso.

Rightness settles into my chest, and the world disappears. All the second-guessing and confusion. Gone. Poof. Buh-bye.

This is exactly where I was meant to be. Here. Now. In her apartment. In her life. A vision of the future floats in front of my eyes, so real I can almost reach out and touch it.

Her. Me. Us. Coming home from a play where I got to enjoy her laugh. Her in the shower, waiting for me to join her. Washing away the day.

Back in the here and now, she turns my way, hands in her hair. Our eyes lock through the glass, and she stills. My dick twitches. There’s no surprise on her face, only longing. Welcome.

I’m pulled to her like she’s a magnet, and I’m a scrap of metal, unable to escape the force of attraction. Across the room in half a dozen steps, I kick off my shoes as I go, pluck off my socks, and then peel off my damp t-shirt.

And somewhere in that last step, as I reach for the door, the last two days fall away. It’s just me and her and all the steam.

I pull open the door. The splatter of water grows louder. Her expression shifts from welcome to worry, as if she’s afraid I’ll judge her. Or worse.

There’s no way.

Feet bare, I step beneath the spray and reach for her.

Warm and wet, she curls around me.

“Is this real?” I murmur into her hair.

She nods. “Yes.” Then she tips her head back, looking up at me as if she, too, is trying to get her bearings. Double checking to make sure that I’m not a figment of her imagination.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, echoing her apology from earlier.

Standing between the two shower heads, I cup her cheeks in my hands and make her meet my gaze. Her skin is flushed, her hair a deeper gold and dang if she’s not the most enticing woman I’ve ever met.

I want to drop to my knees and worship her. Beg her to keep me. Apologize a thousand times for walking away from her.

“For what?”

She shakes her head and then leans into my touch. “You keep finding me. . .” Her hand lifts and sweeps up and down the length of her body.

“Naked,” I supply.

She nods.

“I don’t mind that in the slightest, Wildfire.” In fact, having her naked in my arms is a dream come true.

“But with Gabe. . .” she trails off. But then her lips curve up. “Why do you call me that?”

I tug on her hair. “Because you remind me of a wildfire. Partly because of your hair, but mostly because you swept into my life with such amazing force.”

A slow grin turns her lips up. But then, as quick as it appeared, it falls away. Her fingers hike up the muscles of my chest, clinging to my shoulders. “What are we going to do, King?”

10

KINGSTON

Pleasure hums through me at Katherine’s question, and I reach for her body wash, eager to get my hands on her.

What are we going to do, King?

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