Page 215 of The Billionaire's Secret
"Nothing I haven’t seen," I toss my head.
"Unlikely." He lowers his right hand—the one with the splint and the default flip-me-off-bird to his crotch.
What the—? Don’t look there, bitch— Don’t bloody watch him grasp himself and squeeze.
I gulp, the sound audible in the small space. And damn him, but I can’t take my gaze off of that gorgeous part of his anatomy.
He lowers his hand to his side, "I rest my case."
Hell, but a certain part of him is far from being in resting position.Gulp.Did I just word play on his dick play?Clearly his proximity is rubbing off if all I can think of are these poor jokes.
"By the way," his tone is conversational, "you planning on defending yourself with that?" He jerks his chin.
I tighten my grasp around the spatula and raise it. "This has been known to strike fear in the heart of burglars and those who’ve tried to break in on me before," I snap.
"Have you been burgled before?" His jaw hardens.
"None of your business."
"Have you?" He takes a step forward. I scoot back. My leg brushes something warm, which moves. A scream spills from my lips, then, for the second time in ten minutes, the world tilts, and I find myself falling… Falling. The spatula slips from my grasp. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for my butt to connect with the hard ground, only I’m yanked upright. Heat envelops me and my breasts flatten against something unyielding. I don’t need to open my eyelids to know it’s his chest, the one with the cut planes, the eight pack abs. I slap my palm against that wall of muscles which coil, move, and writhe under my fingertips. I gulp and my legs threaten to give way under me, but his hold around my shoulders tightens. I spot the smoldering smoke stick of his on the ground.
"Your…cigar," I stutter.
"Fuck that." His breath feathers over my hair and liquid lust shoots up my veins. The scent of cherries and cloves mixes with that edgy darkness that is purely Weston. Speaking of—something hard stabs into my waist. A groan boils up my throat. Not fair—this crazy attraction to someone I’d barely met a couple of times. Why does he have to smell so delicious? Bet if I licked his chest, he’d taste more decadent that the chocolate mud pie cake recipe I’ve been wanting to bake. I'll lick the frosting off his cupcake any time.Nooooo.Not again. Enough with comparing his unmentionables with my favorited stuffed goodies. OMG, how would it feel to have him stuff his goodies in my cannoli? Wait, did that even make sense?
His voice dips, “You haven’t answered my question."
"What?" I blink.
"Did he hurt you?" He enunciates his words at a slow pace as if I am slow of mind… Which, I admit, at the moment, I seem to be. His larger-than-life charisma has turned my brain cells to mush. "Tell me," he coaxes. Is he using the same tone he used with the puppy to make him obey? Well, hell, if it isn’t working on me as well.
My stomach stutters. "Once…." I force out the word.
His muscles coil; tension radiates off of his body. "You were burgled before?" he snaps.
"Yeah," I hunch my shoulders, "it happened a week ago… No biggie." I swallow as my heart begins to race. It hadn’t been pleasant, that almost encounter. I had been alone in the kitchen of my bakery at 4 am… Hell, it had been horrible, actually. The guy had thrown a fright into me and I had thrown this spatula at him. " I chased off the guy."
His grip tightens, "Did he hurt you?" His jaw tics.
I stare up into his tight features. You’d think Mr. Jerkass here is all concerned about my safety.
"Did he?" his voice snaps through the noise in my head.
"N…no," I shake my head.
"No, what?"
No, I will not give in to this insane chemistry between us.I didn’t come all this way to run slap-bang into a man who is, surely, far worse than the one who recently broke my heart. "No, he didn’t do any harm." I tip up my chin. "Though I can’t promise the same to you."
He chuckles, "I love a good fight, don’t you?"
Jackass.
A whine sounds behind me.
I shoot a sideways glance to spot a puppy plant his behind on the ground…exactly the kind of position I’d have been, if ‘Mr. Overbearing Brute’ here hadn’t grabbed me first. Oh, so that's what I’d brushed against earlier and almost fallen over.
"Max," Weston talks to the dog, "you hungry, buddy?"
