Page 267 of In Love with a Cruel Billionaire

She told herself to stop staring, but her stubborn, fascinated gaze remained glued to him.

He's exquisite, Saint M.

His chiseled visage enthralled her, and breathing somehow became a struggle as her dazed gaze took in the way his dark gold hair brushed defiantly past the oversized collars of his trench coat. Which happened to betweedof all things. The one fabric that was most identified with boring old gentlemen, and yet this stranger was so potentlymalehe was able to take away the drabness of the material and transform it into something overwhelmingly sexy.

Everything about him was just too perfect that it didn't feel fair. His height was imposing, his build precisely proportioned. Even his bone and muscle structure was flawless, every piece of it seemingly sculpted by an Italian maestro under bronze, sun-kissed flesh.

He was, in sum, an intoxicating sight, and only now did Diana understand what ittrulymeant, for one to be drunk on beauty.

Because this man—-

"You seem fine." The stranger's voice had gone from annoyed to brusque now, with his lips even tightening in acute...disgust?

Him

PROFESSOR MATTHIJSde Graaf was pissed.

He held between his hands the tiniest waist: a fuckably good thing in most cases, but not now. Not when he was staring at what his subconscious recognized as his predestined downfall, and his dick not giving a shit about the sense of foreboding that had turned his body rigid with tension.

The girl's long, dark hair was twisted up in a neat bun, with a few ebony strands escaping to outline the elegant curve of her cheeks. A respectable look on all accounts, and yet it only sharpened his attraction to her with a violent edge.

Ah, dammit.

Why did he find her so fucking hot?

An erotic vision suddenly seized hold of his mind: this lovely beauty on her knees, her silky locks twisted around his fingers as he guided her rosebud mouth to his—-

FOCUS, DAMMIT.

He finally managed to jerk his gaze away and tried to look for something else to see or think about, but his eyes only ended up latching on to something more dangerous.

She stared at him, anddammit,her big, dark orbs were just the way the professor liked them: quintessential doe eyes that had the highest success rate in beguiling assholes like him. The same could be said for her sartorial modesty, which only made him want to rip her shapeless sweater off and have her dainty breasts spill into his already itching palms.

Moments passed, and still she stared, looking up at him the way only someone pure and untouched could do so. Her doe eyes gawked and gobbled him up at the same time, and it was easy to see she was just too fucking naive to realize how her innocently yearning gaze had the professor thinking of the other things she could gobble up.

Like his already-swollen dick, for instance.

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