Page 139 of Dial B for Billionaire

Her breath catches, pupils dilating as she arches into me. “Yes. Please.”

The elevator climbs toward home, toward the future we're both fighting for. When the doors open, I lift her into my arms.

“You're so beautiful,” I tell her, because it's true and because I've been denied the privilege of saying it for too long.

She frames my face with her hands. “I've missed this place. Missed you in it.”

“It wasn't home without you,” I confess, carrying her toward the bedroom. “Nothing was.”

I set her down beside the bed, my hands trembling slightly as I reach for the zipper of her dress. “Are you sure about this? About us?”

Her answer is to turn, lifting her hair so I can access the zipper. The dress slides down her body like water, pooling at her feet in midnight blue silk. She stands before me in nothing but delicate lace, and the sight steals my breath. Not just the physical, but the trust in her eyes, the love written across her features.

“My turn,” she whispers, her fingers working at my bow tie.

I let her undress me slowly, her hands mapping my chest as if reacquainting herself with every plane and angle. When she pushes my shirt from my shoulders, her lips follow, pressing soft kisses to my collarbone, my sternum, the spot over my heart that beats only for her.

My hands tangle in her hair as she continues her exploration, her mouth trailing fire across my skin. When she reaches for my belt, her movements become urgent, desperate.

“I need you in my mouth,” she murmurs. “Need to remember everything I've been missing.”

When her mouth follows her hands, hot and wet and perfect, I have to brace myself against the bedpost to keep from falling. She works me like she was born to, her tongue swirling around the head before she takes me deeper.

“Fuck, Layla,” I groan, my hands fisting in her hair. “Just like that.”

She pulls back with a wicked smile. “I want all of it tonight, Bennett. Everything you can give to me.”

“Holy fuck.” My dick jolts as she wraps her mouth around me again, humming as she sucks back and forth, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure up my spine. I can feel my control slipping, my release building faster than I want.

“Fuck, Layla.”

I pull her up before I lose myself completely, needing to be inside her when I come. Her lips are swollen, her eyes dark with arousal as I stand her in front of me.

“Not yet,” I pant. “I want more of you first.”

I lift her easily, carrying her to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Pressing her palms flat against the cool glass, I position myself behind her, my chest to her back.

“Someone might see,” she gasps as I free her breasts and press her against the window.

“Let them,” I growl against her neck, my hands sliding around her ribs to the underside of her heavy tits. “Let the whole city see you're mine again.”

“Oh, Bennett.”

My length presses hard against her ass as I reach around with one hand, sliding beneath the lace of her underwear. She's so soaked, so ready for me, and I groan at the evidence of her need.

“I love how fucking wet you get,” I murmur in her ear, my fingers finding her clit. “Tell me you were thinking about this during the gala. About me touching you like this.”

“Yes,” she pants, her hips grinding back against me and my cock aches. “Every second. I wanted you to fuck me on the dancefloor.”

“I almost did,” I growl, spinning her around to face me. “Everyone watching while I claimed what's mine.”

I drop to my knees before her, hooking my fingers into the delicate lace of her underwear and dragging it down her legs. She steps out of them, trembling as I press my mouth to her inner thigh.

“Bennett,” she whimpers, her fingers threading through my hair. “Please.”

I look up at her, framed against the Chicago skyline, her naked body glowing in the light filtering through the windows. She's never looked more beautiful, moremine.

“I never want to risk losing you again,” I tell her, my hands sliding up her thighs.

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