Page 33 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
Her songs were ghosts—haunting for a moment, then gone, forgotten as soon as the echo died. They were just… snapshots that captured her emotions, a fragile thread of her life.
She inhaled slowly, blinking back the burning in her eyes.
She sighed and looked up. Her eyes widened with surprise, and she could feel her cheeks flush.
Theo was standing less than a dozen feet away from her, just beyond the shadows of the side stage.
Her gaze swept over him, unfiltered. A fierce longing to touch him—to taste him—rose like fire in her veins.
When their eyes locked, a deep, sensual awareness rose inside her in response to the look in his eyes.
He looked struck by lightning—stunned, every inch of him alive. His lips were parted, his eyes blazed with raw, unguarded desire.
Rose placed her hand over her thundering heart. Heat poured through her, settling low and throbbing in answer to his silent request.
She didn’t remember rising.
Didn’t remember closing the space between them.
She knew only that her hands reached for him first, her fingers curling in the lapel of his jacket, her chest rising with each shallow breath.
She felt his arms wrap around her, a warm and welcome haven. She breathed in his aftershave, a subtle, masculine fragrance that sent a shaft of need through her. She gave in to the ache, needing to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin, to anchor herself in something real.
Her lips crashed into his, frantic, hungry. This time, the kiss counted.
His mouth was warm, insistent, less a question than an answer.
She kissed him with wild abandon. If there were rules, she was past caring. With her emotions on fire, she wanted to relish the exquisite sensations that sparked to life with his gentle touch.
One of his hands cupped her jaw, his thumb sweeping her cheek before he tangled it in her hair. His other hand swept lower, and he lifted her, pressing her against his body until they were aligned and she could feel his desire.
Their breaths tangled.
The stage disappeared beneath them.
Only the two of them remained, suspended in a world where a kiss was more than a kiss.
The moment Theo stepped into the lobby of The Gerster Theatre, he was met with warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. It also had nothing to do with the theatre itself.
No, the warmth came from knowing that Rose was here.
He smiled politely at the secretary who had opened the door. She stood quickly, flustered, clearly aware of who he was.
“Good morning, Mr. Kallistratos,” she said, smoothing the front of her blouse. “You’re early. Mrs. Devan hasn’t arrived yet, but she texted just a few minutes ago. She should be here shortly.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” he said smoothly. “I don’t mind waiting.”
He leaned against the counter just slightly, letting his presence fill the space—not imposing, but undeniable.
She blinked at him, her cheeks warming as she attempted a smile.
“Actually,” he added, his tone thoughtful, “I wonder… Could Rose show me around while I wait?”
The secretary’s brows lifted, then quickly furrowed. “I—I believe she’s in the auditorium, doing her morning clean. I could go find her for you if you’d like?—”
Theo raised a hand, that quiet, confident charm brushing through his voice like silk. “No need. I’ll find my way.”
Before she could protest, he offered a parting smile and moved down the hallway, his footsteps muffled against the thick carpet.
