Page 35 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
The tension in his body dissolved when she wrapped her fingers in the lapel of his jacket.
He slid one hand along her cheek, cradling it for a moment as he tenderly ran his thumb across her lips before he wrapped it behind her nape and pulled her closer. His fingers tangled in her soft hair.
He leaned forward, savoring the moment—the weight of their connection, the sheer inevitability of them being together. She leaned into him, claiming his lips in a fiery kiss that unfurled the tension that had been building inside him.
Her lips parted for him, and he was lost.
The kiss was desperate, searching—like they had both been drifting for far too long and had finally come home.
He pressed her against him, needing to feel every inch of her. His hands slid down, wrapping around her waist, then lower, until he cupped the swell of her backside. He lifted her into him with a low groan, his arousal hard and aching against her belly.
She gasped softly into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck, holding him like he might vanish.
Their breaths tangled. The theatre faded.
There was no audience, no past, no future.
Only this stage. This kiss.
Her lips were soft and warm—like they were made for him.
He explored her mouth with aching need, making love to her with his lips and tongue. She met him stroke for stroke, breath for breath, clinging to him with the same intensity that burned through him. His need for her nearly gutted him in the best way.
His hand slid up her spine, memorizing the feel of her. She pressed closer, her chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths that matched his as they fought to get closer. His hand slipped under the hem of her sweatshirt, beneath the light t-shirt behind it, to her warm flesh.
He could have stayed like that forever.
But forever was fragile.
And reality was intruding.
Faint voices echoed in the distance—muffled at first, then clearer. Approaching. His desire fought with the need to protect Rose.
A reluctant groan escaped his lips as he ended the kiss. With his eyes closed, he leaned in, resting his forehead gently against hers. His chest heaved as he pulled in ragged breaths and tried to steady himself. He paused, savoring the moment before letting her go.
“We’ve got company,” he murmured, his voice husky and thick. “Mimi’s here.”
He felt the shift in her body instantly—rigid awareness flooding her limbs like cold water. Her hands slowly dropped fromaround his neck. Her breath caught, and she turned her head slightly, not meeting his gaze.
She took a small step back.
His hands slid down her arms, lingering as long as he could before he let her go. Every cell in his body protested their separation.
Her face was flushed, her lips kiss-swollen and parted, her chest heaving as much as his. She lowered her eyelashes, refusing to look at him.
His heart thumped.
She was so beautiful.
So vulnerable.
And I want her to be mine.
He reached for her again, desperate to offer something—reassurance, comfort, anything—but the doors at the top of the auditorium groaned open, and Mimi’s theatrical voice filled the vast space like a trumpet fanfare.
“Theo,darling! The mayor and his wife are still buzzing about seeing you last night, and now the rest of New York will be too!” she called, bustling inside with her secretary hurrying behind her, a folder clutched to her chest.
Rose bowed her head, lifted a shaky hand to brush her hair back, and took another step away from him. The moment folded in on itself, vanishing as quickly as it had bloomed.
