Page 79 of The Playboy Billionaire

Her eyes lock with mine, her chest heaving. I watch in fascination as her pupils dilate. A shiver runs through her, and I pull her into my arms, erasing the distance between us.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re soaking wet. I’m sharing body heat,” I say, looking down while manoeuvring her until her back is up against the wall.

Her lips part, drawing my eyes, a slight flush spreading over her skin.

“But we’re both wet, not sure how effective it will be,” she says, biting her bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” I say, pulling her closer, willing my body to behave itself but failing miserably. My fingers ache with the need to touch her. I have done for days. Having April Wilson in my space is torture.

I lower my head, my tongue snaking out, moistening my lips, water streaming down my face from my hair.

April lifts her chin, her breath quickening. I’m not sure who moves first as our mouths crash together. Her hands snake up behind my head, her fingers stroking the hair at thenape. I press myself against her, my desire obvious—and then she’s gone.

She rips herself out of my arms and sets off in the direction of the apartment. I call after her, but the sound of the rain drowns me out. I drop back against the wall, my head tipped back.

“Shit,” I say, knowing there’s no way I can chase after her in my current state.

I bend forward and try to get my breathing and body under control. When I’m finally able, I set off. Taking a steady jog back home, not wanting to pull any of my now cold muscles.

When I enter the apartment, I can’t see April, but I notice a pool of soaking clothes left inside the door on the tiles.

I groan. She stripped before heading upstairs, clearly wanting to protect my wooden floors. Who is this woman, and where has she been all my life? I’m not as conscientious, plus I don’t need her catching me in my boxers. Instead, I stand outside her room, dripping all over the floor. I can hear the shower running inside. A low moan echoes through the door, and my body hardens. The thought of her naked, her hands running over her smooth skin. I turn and make my way to my room. Stripping off my clothes and leaving them in a heap on the bathroom floor.

I step into the spray, groaning as I take my stiff cock in my hand. One hand smashes against the wall as I lean forward, my head and shoulders under the spray, my fist working my dick with desperation. I close my eyes, imagining it’s April’s hand and mouth. It doesn’t take long with those pictures in my mind before the telltale pressure builds. I throw back my head, moaning into the spray, hot cum spurting from my now tender dick. I shudder as my orgasm continues to rip through me, the water washing away the evidence.

I breathe deeply before washing myself off. I take my time, enjoying the warmth and post-orgasmic glow. When I finally make it downstairs, April is no longer in the apartment, her wet clothes are gone. A note telling me she has gone to see Samuel and that there’s food in the fridge for me should I want it.

I take it out, disappointed. I’ve enjoyed our evening meals together. I’m just hoping our little doorway incident hasn’t ruined it… that April isn’t running scared.

CHAPTER 33

APRIL

Samuel is sitting at our usual table when I walk in. He looks up and grins when he sees me.

“Hey, baby girl,” he says, standing up and pulling me in for a hug. A hug I return. When he finally lets go, he holds onto my upper arms, his eyes scanning my face as if checking me out. “You good?” he asks, his concern evident.

“I’m good,” I tell him.

“That billionaire treating you right? He hasn't tried anything? Cause if he has, he’s not too rich for me to kick his ass for you,” he says, taking a seat, pulling me down next to him and calling over the barmaid.

“Hey, long time no see, April,” Cassie, the barmaid, says.

“Hi, Cassie. I’ve been caught up in a few dramas.”

“You could say that,” she says. “I saw the fire on the news. You, okay?”

Her concern touches me.

“It’s been tough, but I’ve arranged a town hall for Wednesday. Been offered a short-term dance space. I just need to see if the community wants it.”

“Leave Bernie the details. He’ll spread the word. Youknow what he’s like. He was so impressed with your flash mob. Youare taking onthe big wigs…”

A shout comes from behind the bar. “Is anyone working around here?”

Bernie pops his head up, and Cassie rolls her eyes. “I’ll get your drinks,” she says, grinning.

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