Page 85 of The Grumpy Billionaire

He turns me by the shoulders as the elevator glides upwards and ties the blindfold onto my head, fingers working busily at the back of my hair.

I touch the wall and the flat metal railing. I find my way back around and grab on to Hugo’s coat, turning my head this way and that, trying to get my bearings. This is no half-assed blindfold; it’s a top-tier, CIA-level, comprehensive blindfold. No light gets through. No dim shapes. Nothing.

“I’m wearing this the whole time?”

One deft finger traces a path down the side of my neck.

Nothing more. Just the finger.

My heart galumphs.

He’s a silent and imposing presence there in the elevator. When there’s nothing to say, Hugo says nothing. He’s a gryphon atop an ancient building, full of foreboding and gravitas.

And he loves me—he said so. That’s still there. It was with us in the limo, it’s here in the elevator. He says he loves me, and it’s wonderful and terrible, like a blazing fire, and I know not to get too near. But there it is, blazing. And I can’t seem to turn away.

“It feels a little like cheating,” I say. “I mean, you’re still taking me to your place. I’ll be able to smell it and feel it.”

Hot fingers touch the bottom of my chin. He tilts up my head and kisses me.

“Somebody might get on the elevator at any moment,” I whisper. “What will they think of you taking a blindfolded woman to your home?”

“I’ll kick the shit out of them,” he grumbles, kissing my neck.

I grin. It’s so unlike Hugo to be all dark and sexy, but I like it, and I like how it’s heightened by the excitingly helpless feeling from the blindfold.

“I’ll kick the shit out of anybody who comes near you,” he says.

I smile as he nips my ear.

The way he touches me, the way he kisses me—I’d know it was him even if I couldn’t hear his voice.

A bell dings. Strong arms scoop me up, purse and all.

“Oh my god!” I stab what is probably his cheek with my finger before I successfully loop an arm around his neck. He carries me down the hall, or what I assume is the hall.

I hear keypad beeps, and then we’re on the move again. He turns me this way and that, taking care that I don’t hit walls and corners, maybe. Are we in his place?

I’m airborne for a split second before landing on something soft. “Unbutton your coat,” he growls.

I unbutton my coat and work it off.

The coat is whisked away. “Hands up.”

I comply. He pulls off the long, shapeless sweater I’ve worn, revealing the lacy slip-sheath-garment thingy that I got at a vintage store for a buck. It was going to be a zombie bridal veil until I decided to be a sexy witch at the last minute.

Anyway, whatever you want to call that lacy sheath thingy, it’s definitely an effective Hugo exciter, judging from the guttural curse that comes from his mouth. “This outfit,” he rumbles, touching and owning every part of my lace-clad body.

I never know where his fingers will be next. I like it.

He was joking in the elevator with the bit about kicking the shit out of anybody who comes near me, but I don’t need to pull off the blindfold to know that primal Hugo is in charge right now—I can tell by the way he touches me. Primal Hugo is wild and dangerously into me and the opposite of smooth, and I am here for it.

“God, Stella!” Warm lips close over my breast. “What. What.”

My boobs are nothing special, but to Hugo right now, they are.

“One of the top boob wonders in the known world, that’s what,” I joke.

Teeth graze over my lace-covered nipple. “Damn right.”

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