Page 118 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

I don’t want to say no. I want all of him, consequences be damned.

“Please,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around his waist, urging him closer.

He enters me in one powerful thrust that has us both gasping. The feeling of completeness is overwhelming. Physically, yes, but something else too, something I’m not ready to name.

“Mine,” he growls against my neck, setting a rhythm that’s deep and possessive. “You’re mine, Ava.”

In this moment, with him moving inside me, claiming me, I believe it. Contract or no contract, time limit or no time limit, I am his in a way I’ve never belonged to anyone before.

“Yours,” I agree breathlessly, and something shifts in his expression. Surprise, then a fierce satisfaction that transforms his entire face.

“Say it again,” he demands, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more powerful.

“I’m yours, Gideon.” The words feel like a confession, a surrender, a truth I can’t deny any longer.

“And I’m yours,” he replies, the words so unexpected they nearly stop my heart. “Only yours, Ava.”

The intensity builds between us, pushing us both toward the edge. His hands grip my hips, holding me exactly where he wants me, hitting that perfect spot inside me with each thrust.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises as I arch beneath him. “Let me feel you come again. Come around my hard cock. Clench me tight.”

The combination of his words, his touch, and the overwhelming intimacy of the moment sends me spiraling into pleasure so intense it borders on agony. I cry out his name, digging my fingers into his muscular back as waves of sensation crash through me.

He follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep inside me with a groan that sounds almost like relief. For several heartbeats, we stay connected, breathing hard, neither of us quite ready to break the spell that’s woven around us.

Finally, he slides off me, pulling me against him. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow.

“That was...” I search for words that won’t reveal too much.

“Worth the wait,” he finishes for me, his hand trailing lazily up anddown my spine.

I smile against his skin. “I was going to say ‘adequate,’ but sure, we can go with that.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest against my ear. “Liar.”

We fall into comfortable silence, the kind I never expected to share with Gideon King when this arrangement began.

I feel myself drifting toward sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body against mine. Just before consciousness slips away entirely, I feel his lips press gently against the top of my head.

“Sleep well, Ava,” he murmurs, and it feels like a different kind of possession, one I’m not sure I know how to protect myself from.

Morning findsme still in Gideon’s bed. Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the empty space beside me. For a moment, I wonder if he regrets the intimacy of last night, if he’s already retreated behind his usual walls. Last time, I found him in the kitchen when I awoke, cold as ice.

Then I hear the shower running in the en suite bathroom and relax slightly. He hasn’t gone far.

I stretch, taking inventory of my body. I’m pleasantly sore in all the right places, but also more rested than I’ve felt in weeks. Apparently, sleeping next to Gideon King is the cure for insomnia I never knew I needed.

Don’t get used to it. Temporary, remember?

The shower shuts off, and moments later Gideon emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still clinging to his chest. The sight isdistracting enough that it takes me a moment to register the expression on his face. He’s uncertain, almost vulnerable, so unlike his usual confident demeanor.

“I thought you might have gone back to your room,” he says, running a hand through his damp hair.

I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest despite the intimacy we’ve shared. “I guess I only just woke up.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed. But then he studies me a moment, and asks the question that changes everything: “Stay again tonight?”

Three simple words that aren’t simple at all. Three words that acknowledge this isn’t just about convenience or physical release anymore. Three words that terrify me because of how badly I want to say yes.

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