Page 155 of The Billionaire's Secret
I glance up from where I’d been pacing in the living room of the suite. She stands framed in the doorway to the bedroom. The green gown clings to her breasts, seeming to be kept up by nothing except their perkiness. It cinches in at her impossibly tiny waist, only to flare around her hips, and flow down in straight lines, to her toes. She props a palm on her waist, thrusts out a leg through the slit that rides all the way up to the waist.
My hand tightens on the glass of whiskey I hold. "The fuck are you wearing?"
Her eyebrows lower, "Have you forgotten that you picked out this dress?"
So what? She has no business looking that beautiful, that over-the-top seductive in that outfit. When I’d seen it in the store…all I had thought of was how well it would match her eyes. I’d imagined her wearing the gown, and fuck, if I hadn’t come right then. Of course, I had picked it out for her. Had wanted her to wear a dress that was revealing enough to make her uncomfortable. One of my crazy-ass ideas that had seemed brilliant at the time. Why does she have to look so delectable in that? Why the hell does it matter to me that men will eat her up with their eyes? I toss back the rest of the whiskey, place it on the counter of the bar I had been leaning against.
"Turn around."
"What?"
I circle the air with my finger.
She frowns.
I jerk my chin. She draws in a breath, then does a slow turn for me.
"The fuck?" The back of the dress is far, far worse. It dips in a V that plunges down all the way to the top of her arse crack. The shadowed cleavage between her ass cheeks mocks me. I was inside of her not a few hours ago.
I’d carried her into the private elevator at the office—it was too early for any of the other Seven to be around—then to the top floor, where I had directed my helicopter back to my hotel suite. That way, there had been no chance of anyone seeing her in her undressed state. I’d let her sleep in my bed, watching her as she’d not stirred… Not until I’d woken her up an hour ago to get dressed. I’d left the outfit for her, needing to see her wear my choice. It is perfect for her. It brings out all of her best attributes, the silver-tipped heels on her feet giving her a few added inches that accentuate the jut of her butt, the proud thrust of her cleavage.
I prowl toward her, place my palm flat in the middle of her bare back.
She shudders, "Saint."
"Get out of this dress."
"I will not." She turns to glare at me, "I put a lot of effort into looking good."
"Is that what you call this?" I step back, look her up and down,
My heart stutters; she so fucking beautiful. And yet... She still hasn't revealed the real reason she came to me.
I draw myself up to my full height. "Step out of it, Gigi, or I’ll make you do it."
"Try me," she juts out her lower lip, then turns away.
I push her up against the wall, hook my finger in the 'V' of her dress and tug. The delicate fabric rips.
She gasps and the sound coils in my belly. I’m instantly hard.
She looks over her shoulder. "What are you doing?" her voice is breathless.
I yank at the cloth and it parts all the way down to the hem. I let go and it pools to the floor.
"Jesus," I take in the silver thong that rides the top of her butt.
"The fuck are you wearing?"
She wriggles her feet, tries to angle her body. I apply more pressure to her back. She arches up.
"Answer me," I growl.
"What does it look like?" The anger in her voice slices straight to my gut. My belly tightens. My cock tents my pants.
I run a finger down the silvery thread caught between her arse cheeks.
Her thigh muscles ripple.
