Page 27 of The Billionaire's Bargain

Her head falls back, exposing more of her neck to my mouth. I suck gently at her pulse point, feeling it race under my tongue. My hands cup her breasts through the thin cotton, thumbs brushing over hardened nipples. She jerks against me, a small cry escaping her lips.

"Sensitive," I observe, repeating the motion and watching her squirm. "I'm going to learn every inch of you, Alice. Every spot that makes you gasp, every touch that makes you beg."

"Please," she whispers, though I'm not sure she knows what she's asking for.

I stand, lifting her with me. She weighs nothing in my arms. I could carry her upstairs to one of the many bedrooms. That’s been the plan. To take her in a bed, but dammit, I can't wait that long. Instead, I lay her on the plush rug before the fireplace, the flames casting golden light across her skin.

My shirt joins her dress on the floor, then my pants. Her eyes widen at the sight of me, equal parts fear and fascination in her expression. I lower myself beside her, not on top of her—not yet. My hand strokes down her body, from sternum to navel, then lower, over the cotton barrier between us.

"I'm going to touch you now," I tell her, my voice barely recognizable. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

She shakes her head. "Don't stop."

I slip my hand beneath the elastic, finding her wet and ready. The knowledge that she wants this—wants me—as badly as I want her nearly undoes me. I circle my finger against her, watching her face as pleasure overtakes her. Her hips rise to meet my touch, instinctively seeking more.

"That's it," I encourage, increasing the pressure slightly. "Let yourself feel it."

Her hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging into skin. The slight pain grounds me, reminds me to go slow. This isn't about my pleasure—not yet. I work her with my fingers until she's panting, trembling on the edge of release.

"Alexander," she gasps.

"Let go," I tell her. "I've got you."

She comes with a cry, her body arching beautifully, inner muscles clenching around my fingers. I watch her face, memorizing every detail of her surrender. This is mine now.Sheis mine.

Before she can fully recover, I remove the last barriers between us, positioning myself between her thighs. The head of my cock nudges at her entrance, and her eyes fly open, locking with mine.

I’m dripping precum, my cock kissing her entrace, salivating at the thought of finally being inside her.

"This will hurt," I warn her, stroking her face. "But then it will be good. I promise."

She nods, trust in her eyes that I've done nothing to earn except be honest about my wanting. I push forward slowly, feeling the resistance of her body, the incredible tightness. She winces, and I pause, dropping kisses across her face, her neck, her breasts.

"Breathe," I instruct, and when she does, I thrust forward in one smooth motion, breaking through the barrier.

She cries out, tears springing to her eyes. I hold perfectly still, though every instinct screams at me to move, to claim, to possess.

"The worst is over," I murmur, kissing away a tear that escapes down her temple. "Stay with me."

Gradually, the pain in her expression eases. I begin to move, shallow thrusts that allow her body to adjust to mine. The feeling is indescribable—tight, hot, perfect. Better than anything I've ever felt. When her hips start to move with mine, I know she's ready for more.

I increase the pace, driving deeper, watching her face transform as pain gives way completely to pleasure. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper. I'm lost in her, drowning in sensation, and I never want to surface.

"You're mine," I growl against her ear, unable to contain the possessive words bubbling up from some primitive part of my brain. "Do you understand? Mine."

"Yes," she gasps, her body tightening around me as another orgasm builds. "Yes, Alexander."

The sound of my name on her lips as she comes undoes me completely. I follow her over the edge, emptying myself inside her with a roar that sounds torn from my soul. In that moment of complete vulnerability, of total connection, something shifts in me—a tectonic movement that rearranges everything I thought I knew about myself.

Afterward, I gather her against me, unwilling to break our physical connection. She's dazed, trembling slightly, her body bearing the marks of my passion. I trace them with gentle fingers, a strange mixture of pride and tenderness filling me.

"I'm obsessed with you," I confess, the words emerging raw and unfiltered. "You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect."

She blinks up at me, uncertainty creeping back into her expression. "Alexander, I don't know what this means. What happens now?"

"Now?" I laugh softly, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her swollen lips. "Now I take care of you. Forever. You never have to worry about money again. You never have to wait tables or wear out your shoes walking to work or count pennies for groceries."

"But—"

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