Page 40 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
At the edge of the bed, he lowered her to stand on her feet slowly, keeping his forehead against hers. “You can stop me anytime. Just say the word.
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw down to his chest. “I don’t want you to stop.”
His breath left him in a shudder. He kissed her again—slower, deeper, full of wonder—before sliding the zipper of her dress down in a single smooth motion. The gown loosened and slipped away, pooling at her feet.
She stood before him in lace and bare feet, vulnerable and breathtaking.
“Yes,” he said when she gave a nervous smile, “I’m staring.
Her laugh trembled into a gasp when he unclasped her bra. He took his time, his lips mapping her skin, his hands steady as he guided her backward onto the bed
When she arched into him, he knew he’d remember this moment for the rest of his life—not just for the heat, but for the way she looked at him… like he was already hers.
A slow, shy smile curved her lips.
When she didn’t pull away, he bent to kiss her again. He started at her shoulders, moved to her neck, then to the soft curve of her collarbone. She trembled under his touch, her fingers sliding beneath his shirt, seeking skin.
He shucked it off, impatient now. She ran her hands across his chest, pausing when she reached the scar just beneath his ribs.
“How did you get this?” she asked, her voice barely above a breath.
“Motorcycle accident. I was seventeen. Thought I was invincible.”
She looked up at him, her brow drawn. “You’re not?”
His lips twitched. “No. I’m not.”
“Well, that bursts one bubble. I guess you can die from pleasure then,” she teased.
Their eyes met—raw and unguarded—and something shifted.
For him, this wasn’t just lust.
This was her giving him everything—and trusting that he would protect the gift she was offering.
He reached for her again, lifting her gently as he slid off her panties, letting them fall to the side before stripping the rest of his clothes.
And then he paused.
She lay there, wide-eyed, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling with anticipation and nerves. She was an offering to the Gods, her hair a silk curtain of black with fire threading through—like her kisses.
Theo’s heart thudded against his ribs. He reached for the drawer beside the bed, pulled out protection, and then knelt beside her, stroking her hair back from her face.
“Still okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, but getting a little impatient. I didn’t realize it took so long. There’s a part of me that wants to throw you down and have its wicked way with you before I self-combust.”
He chuckled and licked the tip of her nipple, causing her to gasp and bow. “And the other part?”
“The other part—” She paused, her voice shaking. “The other part wants to see what you do.”
“How about we do that first? Then you can have your wicked way with me,” he suggested, tweaking her other nipple until she was breathing in gasps and crying out his name.
Theo took his time, letting his hands and lips reassure her, teach her. There was no rush, only reverence. He kissed her jaw, her throat, her shoulder, trailing warmth down her body until she arched into him, her eyes fluttering closed.
“I’m going to taste every inch of you. By the time I’m done, no one else will ever compare. No other man will ever be able to touch you the way I do. Make you come the way I will. Tell me what you want, Rose.”
“You… I want… you,” she breathed out.
