Page 30 of Yours Suddenly

His fingers tease at my entrance. I'm breathing heavily, my legs shaking and his large hand on my pussy is the only thing supporting me right now.

“What about my heart? I breathe when he removes his thumb from my mouth. “You don't own it. Not anymore.”

“Then give me a chance to own it once more,” he says. “Let me take you to dinner.”

He steps away from me, his hands leaving my body. Every inch of my skin protests.

He's watching me, in that way he does. Curiously.

The seconds slip by as we stare at each other.

“Fine,” I say, my voice heavy with lust, grabbing a towel from the rack, “let's go to dinner then.”

I turn away from him, but not before I see him smile a wide, satisfied smile.

Chapter 15

Alexandra

“Do you like it, baby?” he asks me.

The sun is setting on New York and we are at Chelsea Piers Marina on a yacht.

“I've never been on one before. It's amazing!” I say.

We are the only ones on it. He's sailed us a little away from the shore so we could get extra privacy. Right now we stand on the top deck, a finely laid candlelit table in its middle. Jazz music floats around us.

He pours us both a glass of champagne. “What do you think of the décor?” he asks me, handing me a glass. “Is it outdated? I genuinely can’t tell.”

“A little. Are you renting it out? I could fix it up over a couple of days. I’d get rid of all this wood and those dark colors.” I point to the dark cushions by the railing. “Also inside, I’d just redo it all.”

“Well, I'm sure whatever you do to it, it'll turn out amazing like all the work you’ve done over the last couple of months, baby.”

Each time he calls me baby, my legs clench. He says it so sultrily, so easily. Damn him, why does he have to be so sexy all the damn time?

“And no, I'm not renting it,” he adds. “It’s yours.”

A pause. “What?”

“This is the first yacht I've ever bought. Not really into them. Not really a fan of the sea. Lost too many things in it.”

My mouth drops open. “It's forme?”

“Yes, I bought it yesterday.”

“Roman…” My legs go weak. “A wholeyacht?”

“I can buy youthree morewhole yachts.”

“H-How much did this cost?

“Twenty million dollars,” he says.

Oh, fuck. “I—”

“Don't act so surprised, baby. I’m a billionaire.”

“Yes, but. Still. It’s still a fuckingyacht.”

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