Page 7 of The Billionaire and the Virgin

She was tall as fuck. There was no disguising that. He was six foot himself, and he was pretty sure she had at least an inch on him. She was also wearing high heels, which made her seem towering. She was delicate for her height, but still had an attractive pair of small, high breasts and an impressive curve to her hips, and legs that went on forever in the dowdy skirt she was wearing.

So she was tall. So fucking what? He didn’t care if she was seven foot. She was just as gorgeous as he remembered, in all the right ways.

Oh, she wasn’t the typical Hollywood girl that was considered beautiful right now. Those freckles still spattered her nose, and her hair was a tangled mess about her shoulders. Her lips weren’t plumped full of collagen and her jaw was probably too strong. But her eyes were beautiful, and her expression was full of genuineness, and he wanted to just grab her and pull her against him and soak in everything that she was.

Which was weird, but there it was.

So he thrust his hand out. “I don’t think we got to meet properly the other day. I’m Rob.”

She bit her lip—god, that was fucking cute—and put her hand into his and shook it, surprisingly firmly. “I’m Marjorie.”

“Oooo, look! Marj’s picking up men at the curb,” someone catcalled drunkenly. Probably that damn redhead.

Marjorie’s face flushed bright red and she glanced back at her friends. “Are they bothering you, mister? I’m sorry. We’re just getting back from a bachelorette party.” A lock of hair dragged across her cheek from the wind, and she tucked it behind an ear absently. “Actually, it’s a pre-bachelorette party. This one was bridesmaids only. The real one is in a few days. I think some of the girls got a little carried away with the fun.”

“It’s all right,” he told her easily, though it wasn’t all right thirty seconds ago, even. “And it’s Rob, not ‘mister.’”

“Rob,” she said shyly, hugging her arms against her chest.

“But if you’re just getting back from a party, where’s your beads?” He couldn’t help himself—he reached forward and flicked the pearl choker at her neck. Classy and dowdy all at once. It was like something his grandma would wear. Actually, everything she wore—from the floral, high necked blouse to the ugly hippie skirt—was like something his grandma would wear on vacation. Except for the tall nude fuck-me pumps.

He liked those. He liked those a lot.

She immediately put a hand to her necklace where he’d touched it, as if scandalized. Then, she shook her head and looked awkward and shy. “Beads? Nothing like that for me.”

“I don’t see why,” he said honestly. “You’re the most beautiful one of the group.”

She gave him a shocked look, and then turned an adorable bright red again. God, was his dick hard? It was. This girl was like catnip to his jaded senses.

“That’s kind of you to say,” she told him, clearly flustered. “But, um...”

“I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he said, taking the lead. She looked ready to run away and he wasn’t ready for that. Rob stepped forward and placed his hand out, palm up.

She hesitated a moment, then put her hand back in his, as if fascinated.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. Her breasts moved, and he realized she was breathing fast with excitement. Every expression was obvious across her face, and he fucking dug that. There were no games with this girl, he realized. She wouldn’t be able to play games and try to change herself to be whatever she thought might get his attention. She was genuine, from the tips of her messy hair to those tall, tall shoes.

And he loved that. He really, really did.

So Rob brushed his mouth over her knuckles again, and then glanced up at her. “I want to thank you for saving my life.”

“Oh,” she said, clearly flustered. Her hand moved in his, as if she needed to draw it away, but he held on to her. “It’s not necessary, really—”

“It is,” he said in a firm voice. “I must insist. Let me take you to dinner. My treat. It’s the very least I can do for your impeccable lifesaving skills.”

“My lifesaving skills...” she echoed, and then laughed. “You nut. That was CPR. Everyone knows CPR.”

“I don’t,” he said, grinning. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “You want to show me? I can think of a few parts I’d like to practice.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth worked for a moment, and then she nodded. “Um, okay.” He didn’t miss that her gaze flicked to his lips.

He liked that it did. He wanted to know what she was thinking—

“Mr. Cannon,” his worthless assistant said, running forward with the worst fucking timing in the world. “I’ve called you a cab and Mr. Gortham has come downstairs—”

“Not now,” Rob said, his tone easy, his gaze locked on Marjorie’s flushed face. He wanted to memorize it. God, she was pretty. He’d never been so immediately in lust with a woman, but this one had his number, that was for sure. Normally they bored him because they were all the same. He had a sneaking suspicion he’d never get bored with Marjorie and her openness.

“But—” the assistant said, clearly confused. “You instructed us—”

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