Page 69 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

EVERLY

I’M FLUSTERED AS I FLEEfrom the bathroom, heading straight to the walk-in closet. I grip hold of the doorframe, breathing heavily as visions of Cash standing under the water with his hand wrapped around his cock flash through my mind.

When I woke up and he wasn’t in bed, I assumed he went for a run—until I heard the shower running. Curiosity got the better of me when I saw the door was ajar. I expected to find him naked, not jerking off as he called out my name.

Feeling flushed, I strip out of my tank top, shorts, and underwear and grab my white robe from its hanger, tying it around my waist.

I freeze when I hear the shower turn off. Coming into the closet was a bad idea. Cash is going to have to get dressed, and I’ll be forced to confront him. If I go now, I should have enoughtime to leave the room before he’s finished drying off. I wonder if he’ll come in wrapped in a towel or stark naked.

God, what is wrong with me?

I rub my hand across my face. Cash is my fake husband, not a piece of meat. And yet I’m lusting after him like he’s forbidden fruit that I’m desperate to sink my teeth into.

I’ve just made up my mind to make a break for it when I hear him enter the closet.

“Do you need something, Stafford?” I ask, pretending to look through my skirts. We both know it’s an excuse to avoid looking at him.

“Did you like what you saw in there?” he asks point blank as he approaches me.

Yes, it was the most erotic moment I’ve ever witnessed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, feigning indifference.

“Oh, really?” Cash’s tone is skeptical. “Because from where I was standing, you couldn’t pull your eyes away as you watched me jerk off. Curious as to what I was thinking about?” He pauses briefly. “I’ll tell you.” He leans in, his breath warm against my neck. “I was thinking about what you might taste like with my face buried inside your pussy.”

My legs instinctively clamp together as the image flashes in my mind.

I glance over my shoulder at him. “And suppose I did like what I saw. What would you do about it?”

I lose my train of thought as he winds his arm around my waist, my back pressed to his front.

“Do you have any idea how much power you have over me, Ev?” he murmurs in my ear. “All I can think about is our moment in the elevator, with your hand pressed against my cock, the impulse to kiss those perfect lips consuming me.”

“This isn’t real.” My breathing quickens as I track his every move. “Our marriage is fake, remember,” I whisper, a last-ditch effort to convince myself.

Cash shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That’s a damn shame.”

He brushes my hair over my shoulder, holding me captive with his touch. I’m rooted in place, my skin tingling with heat as his soft lips brush against the shell of my ear, leaving me gasping for air.

“Why do you say that?” My question comes out breathless.

He spins me around to face him, his intense hazel gaze holding me captive. My eyes trace the jagged scar spanning from his ear to his mouth. Despite the imperfection, he’s every bit an Adonis, a living work of art whose flaws make him even more appealing.

“Rumor has it that newlyweds have some of the best sex of their lives.” His eyes dip to where my robe opens, and my nipples ache under the intensity of his gaze. “Aren’t you even a little curious about how my fantasy could play out in real life?”

Oh god, yes.

I bite back a groan, finding it more difficult by the minute to tamp down my instinctive response to him.

“Why don’t you show me.” The words escape my mouth before I can stop them.

I’m stunned speechless when he scoops me into his arms and carries me over to the large upholstered bench in the corner. It’s identical to the one in the entryway. Now that I think about it, both showed up the day after we returned from Aspen Grove. One of Cash’s sweet gestures, giving me a place to sit when I take my shoes on and off.

Why does he have to be so damn thoughtful? It makes it so much harder to resist him.

Once he’s eased me down onto the bench, he kneels before me. He’s wearing only a pair of black boxers, his bare chest glistening with water droplets. He must have rushed to dry off before coming to find me.

“What are you doing?” I squeak.

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