Page 62 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
I watched Gray’s hand, the subtle play of powerful muscle and tendon moving under smooth skin as he translated his vision of me from optic nerve to paper.
And I flashed back to what those hands had done to me during our fleeting but never-forgotten time together.
No wonder his fingers had been so skillful and delicate as they’d opened me, toyed with me, nudging me ever closer to ecstasy time and time again.
He didn’t speak but focused on his work, every now and then looking up and making a small hand gesture to indicate that he wanted me to shift position a little. I could tell when he moved from drawing my legs and feet to my face, because when he looked up at me, his eyes would connect with mine ever so briefly before skating away to study my ear or chin or hair.
Finally, he murmured, “Open your robe, Scarlett.”
My heartrate skyrocketed as heat bloomed between my legs. But I obeyed, moving slowly as if this was a dream and not the totally uncharacteristic real-life decision I’d made an hour ago.
I unfastened the belt and started to slide the robe from my shoulders and arms.
“Leave the hood on,” Gray instructed. “Just let it gape open. Good—like that.”
Exposed to the slightly cooler air, my nipples tightened.
Gray’s only reaction was a sharp intake of breath. Without a word, he went back to work, alternating between looking at his pad and peering over it at me.
What was he thinking? As for me, I was pinging back and forth between utter disbelief that this was happening and feeling more present and awake than I’d felt since… well since we’d been together those few short days in Greece.
Maybe this was what he’d meant bywabi-sabi. Once again, our time together would be short-lived—and maybe that’s what made being with him so special.
It couldn’t last therefore it possessed an almost magical beauty. He was my sunset, my snowflake, my poppy bloom—transitory and exquisite, to be appreciated for a moment before it vanished forever.
That was when I decided.
“Gray,” I said, the echo of my voice in the small space surprising me.
He looked up. “Yeah?”
“Let’s have a fling.”
He smiled. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”
I shook my head, returning his smile and struggling for breath. “Not the no-sex kind, the with-sex kind. Just while I’m here, and then when I leave, it’s over.”
His eyelids flared, and his chest rose and fell in a quick inhale. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I nodded, feeling like my heart was going to leap from my body and take a swim in the fountain.
Immediately Gray set his drawing pad and pencil aside and crossed the small distance between us.
Reaching for my hand, he pulled me to my feet then crushed me to his body, taking my mouth in a savage—and absolutely mind-blowing—kiss.
CHAPTERTWENTY
MORE THAN A FLING
Gray
Finally.
Thankfuckshe’d changed her mind. I’d regretted my promise not to lay a finger on her the minute she’d appeared in that fluffy red robe with her red-polished toenails peeking from beneath.
When she’d reclined on the fountain and it had split to reveal her legs, I’d had to bite the inside of my cheek.
And every minute since she’d dropped the robe entirely, it had been hard-on city. Usually that was aniceplace to be, but when there’s no chance of it leading anywhere, it’s just annoying.
