Page 30 of Riding with the Secret Billionaire

"Simpler. Without the complications of your best friend marrying my client, without the professional boundaries I need to maintain, without the geographical challenges once this is all over."

She nods, absorbing this. "Simpler would be nice," she agrees."But maybe not as interesting."

That draws a smile from me. "No, probably not as interesting."

"Jake." She says my name softly, shifting closer on the bed."We have one more night before all those complications become unavoidable.One more night before this journey ends and real life begins again."

The implication in her words is clear, sending heat coursing through me."Trish--"

"I'm not asking for promises," she interrupts."I'm not asking for guarantees about what happens after tomorrow.I'm just asking for tonight. For right now."

She moves closer still, until our knees are touching where we sit on the bed, her scent, something floral and warm, enveloping me.Her hand comes up to rest on my chest, directly over my heart, which is beating faster than I'd like to admit.

"If you don't want this, tell me now," she whispers."And I'll respect that. But if you do..." She leaves the sentence unfinished, an invitation for me to accept or reject.

For a moment, I consider all the reasons I should refuse.The professional complications.The uncertain future. The potential for pain when this inevitably ends.

But then I look into her eyes, dark and luminous in the dim light of the motel room, and all those reasons seem insubstantial against the weight of my desire for her.

"I want this," I admit, my voice rougher than intended."I want you, Trish. Have since Toronto."

Relief and desire flash across her face, and then she's moving, shifting to straddle my lap in one fluid motion that takes my breath away.Her arms wind around my neck as she settles against me, the thin fabric of her sleep clothes doing nothing to disguise the heat of her body.

"Then stop thinking," she murmurs, her lips hovering just above mine."Just for tonight. Be here with me."

I respond by closing the distance between our lips, capturing her mouth in a kiss that contains all the hunger and need I've been suppressing for days.She makes a small sound of approval in the back of her throat, her body pressing closer as her fingers tangle in my hair.

The restraint I've maintained since Basic Plaines crumbles under her touch.My hands move to her waist, slipping beneath the hem of her tank top to find the warm skin beneath.She shivers as my fingers trace the curve of her spine, her own hands growing bolder, exploring the contours of my shoulders and chest with increasing urgency.

When we break apart, both breathless, her eyes are dark with desire, her lips slightly swollen from our kiss."More," she whispers, the single word a command I'm powerless to resist.

I shift our positions, laying her back against the pillows, my body covering hers."Tell me what you want," I say, needing her to be explicit in her consent despite the obvious desire between us.

"Everything," she replies without hesitation."I want everything, Jake. No holding back.Not tonight."

The last thread of my control snaps at her words.I kiss her again, deeper, hungrier, my hands exploring her body with a thoroughness that draws gasps and small moans from her throat.Her tank top disappears, followed by her sleep shorts, leaving her in nothing but simple black underwear that somehow manages to be the most erotic thing I've ever seen.

"Wow," I murmur, taking in the sight of her, all curves and smooth brown skin, her body responding to my gaze with visible anticipation.

"Your turn," she says, tugging at the hem of my t-shirt."Fair's fair."

I sit back, pulling the shirt over my head in one fluid motion.Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in my bare chest, her fingers reaching out to trace the faint scars now covered by tattoos scattered across my skin, souvenirs from my military days.

"War wounds?" she asks softly.

"Some," I admit. "Others are just life."

She leans forward, pressing her lips to a particularly prominent scar on my shoulder, the unexpected tenderness of the gesture making my breath catch."And this one?"

"Afghanistan. Shrapnel." The memory is distant now, dulled by time and overshadowed by the present moment.

She kisses another scar, this one along my ribs."And this?"

"Training accident. Rappelling line snapped."

Her fingers trace a third scar, a thin white line on my forearm."This?"

"Kitchen mishap, actually," I admit with a hint of a smile."Not all injuries are heroic."

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