Page 56 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
18
Sin
The taste of her seeps into my mouth.
Honey and cherries laced with something so intangible, so delicate, my head spins. I tilt my lips and her entire body goes rigid. I lick her mouth. Ripples of sensation tremble up her chest and her breasts heave. I nibble on her lower lip and her mouth opens. I ease my tongue in, dance it over hers. The taste of her intensifies.
Not innocent, not at all.
Something husky, sensuous, layers so complex that it would take me months, years to decipher her, to solve the puzzle that is her. My groin throbs; my balls harden. I swirl my thumb around her clit and a whine trembles up her throat. I absorb it.
I swipe my tongue past her sharp little teeth and goosebumps flare on my skin. A low growl rumbles up my chest, I lean forward, so my chest brushes the full ripeness of her breasts.
"—so you see we have to see this deal through."
I deepen the kiss, and the trembling of her body intensifies. Her spine curves. Her breasts thrust upwards. I grind the heel of my palm into the swollen bud of her clit, and she explodes.
Her body jerks, her head falls back, mewls of pleasure bleed from her mouth into mine. I swallow it all. Swallow down every last drop of her pleasure. My chest hurts. My dick lengthens. No way am I going to come in my pants. Her body goes limp under me.
"Sin, you there?"
I tear my mouth from hers. "I am not budging. They can accept my offer or they can go to hell."
There’s silence at the other end. Then, "Got it."
I toss the phone aside, making sure to disconnect the call.
Her eyelids flutter and a husky moan spills from her lips. My balls harden and my legs tremble. And t-h-a-t’s my cue. I should step back from her. Should pay every last penny I owe her and cut her loose. And put aside everything that I’ve fought for my entire life?
She opens her eyes, and those beautiful green irises stare up at me, pupils blown from the orgasm I wrenched from her. Her eyelids are hooded, yet deep inside, hurt flickers. I misused my position. Hell, I’ve broken every sodding rule in the book, from the first time I had encountered her. So what, huh?
What’s another falsehood, in my every growing list of guilty pleasures? At the top of which is her.
I pull my fingers from inside of her and we both shudder. I raise my hand to her mouth and ease my fingers in between her lips. She curls her tongue and sucks on my digits.
I feel the suction all the way to the tip of my dick. My balls grow harder, if that were possible. Got to get away from her. Now.
I drag my fingers from her mouth, then bring them to mine and lick her combined juices. Her pupils dilate further, the scent of her arousal… and mine, intensifies. Oh no, not going to stay for the rest of this clusterfuck that my life is fast descending into. I draw back and her gaze widens. Her lips stutter. And I can’t stop myself. I can’t.
I drop my head and kiss her. So damn sweet. So irresistible. I nibble my way up her jawline to her temple. Press my lips to the soft skin there. "You okay?"
Silence. A beat. Another. Then she nods.
"Good."
I lean back, hold out a hand. She scowls up at me, glances from my face to my palm, then grips my fingers. I pull her up to a sitting position, then to her feet. She stumbles and I lean into her, then pull back, steady her with my grip on her shoulder. When she stays standing for another second, I release her. Then smooth her skirt down her hips. My fingertips brush her calves and she shudders. I step back, putting distance between us.
"You never did get to share your plans."
She stares at me, a dazed look in her eyes. "Plans?" she mutters.
"My office, ten minutes." I pivot, stride past the table, then pause. "You’ll be safe there." Why did I have to give her that? It's unlike me to concede an inch, let alone give someone another chance. It has to be because she is crucial to the success of my plan, and I had almost screwed it all up. Almost. Well... I raise my shoulders and let them fall. Too bad. Time to move on. If there is one thing I am good at it, it is learning from my mistakes, and this little bird here is the biggest of them all.
"You expect me to believe that?" Her voice is unwavering. Good. A flush of pride fills my chest. She is stronger than she realizes.
I glare at her over my shoulder, "Your belief, or lack of, is immaterial."
She draws herself up to her full height, which still means she has to tilt her head back to meet my gaze. Damn, if the little spitfire isn’t fearless. Or naive. Or possibly, both.
