Page 24 of Stuck with the Billionaire Celebrity

Your skin is so white that I’m wondering if you’re a vampire.”

Is she serious right now?

I clench my jaw, my eyes flicking down to her body again despite myself. The way that bikini clings to her, the way her skin glows under the sunlight.

Damn it, I need to get a grip.

“I came out here to swim,” I say, my tone harsher than I intended. “Not to listen to bad music.”

“Bad music?” she gasps, feigning offense. “Excuse you, this is a classic. You obviously have no taste in music.”

“I have great taste.”

“I’m finding that hard to believe.”

I roll my eyes. “Just turn it down.”

“Make me,” she teases, leaning back in the chair and stretching out like a cat, the movement drawing my eyes to her body.

I’m trying to stay annoyed. I am. But every time she shifts, my frustration morphs into something else entirely, something more dangerous.

My pants tighten and my body is thrumming with the need to show her why you don’t tease, unless you’re prepared for the consequences.

“I’m not someone you can toy with,” I growl.

She giggles as she catches me staring. Her smirk turns into a full-blown grin, and she props herself up on her elbows, her gaze locked on mine.

“What’s the matter, Theo? Never seen a woman in a bikini before?”

My scowl deepens.“Not one that insists on acting like a spoiled teenager.”

She snorts and sets her magazine aside. “Please. Don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying the view.”

I grit my teeth, refusing to take the bait. “I asked you to turn the music down. You do not want to see this side of me.”

“What side of you is that?”

I blow out a breath and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“This is my home, Grace. I expect some level of respect. I’m not being playful right now. I can’t be.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to cover up because you’ve suddenly become a Puritan?” she retorts, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the lounge.

“You’re being unreasonable right now with the music.

I didn’t realize my existence was such a problem for you.”

Spoiled teenager.

She’s the one pushing buttons and she clearly cannot take it when someone doesn’t fall at her feet.

“It’s not your existence,” I snap. “It’s your complete disregard for…”

“For what?” she interrupts, standing up and walking toward me. “For your precious rules? For your need to control everything around you?”

She’s close now, too close, and I can feel the heat rolling off her skin. Her eyes are challenging, daring me to say something, but all I can focus on is the way her body moves, the way her chest rises and falls with every breath.

Those breasts are beautiful. Are they hers or did she buy them to be that perfect?

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