Page 57 of Billionaire's Sins
I gulp. “W...won’t you come in?” I take a step back, then skitter to the side as he brushes past me. The scent of freshly cut grass mixed with rain envelops me. My nipples harden and my thighs clench. Moisture pools between my legs. Shit, at this rate I am going to dampen my panties and he’s going to know the effect he has on me, considering I have no clothes to hide behind.
The wind picks up outside again, and I close the door. I turn to find him standing in the center of the living room. He seems to have absorbed all the oxygen in the room, for I try to breathe, but my lungs burn. I try to swallow but my throat is too dry. Hell. Why does he have this effect on me? I take a trembling step forward, then another. He must hear the slight noise I make, for he tenses. He drops his backpack to the floor, then shrugs off his leather jacket and tosses it aside. His shoulders flex, the defined planes of his back outlined against the shirt that pulls tightly across his torso.
He raises a hand to run his fingers through his hair, and the action outlines his biceps, which bulge and flex. A hot flare of desire pools low in my belly. My thighs spasm, my palms dampen, and I rub them across my thighs. I rake my gaze down that delicious butt of his, those powerful thighs clad in jeans. He's also wearing biker boots. Proper shit-kickers. I’ve never seen him wear those before. For that matter, I've never seen him in jeans either. I lower my gaze, to the backpack at his feet.
"Are you going somewhere?" I frown.
"I came to see you." He pivots to face me and the force of his intense gaze slams into my chest. A shudder grips me. I tighten my grip around the wooden spoon I’m still holding in my hand. His gaze darts to that, then back to me. "Do you want me to use that?"
"What?" I blink at him. "What do you mean?"
Do you," he takes a step forward, "want me," another step and another, "to use that," he stops a few inches in front of me, "on you?"
Heat flushes my skin. He’s not. He can’t be… Is he saying what I think he is?
"You mean…" I gulp, "you want to…"
"Spank you?" He tilts his head. "Do you?"
Yes.
Yes.
"No," I squeak, then clear my throat. "Wh…what are you doing here?"
"That’s not important. What is, is that I am here. I came to see you, Ava." He drags his hand through his hair again and I notice his fingers tremble. Huh? Is he nervous? No, he’s not nervous… This is something else. I peer into his features, notice the skin pulled tightly across his cheek bones. There are fine lines around his eyes, which I swear I haven’t noticed before. He looks on edge, strung tight, like he’s about to do something…or has done something that’s not in the normal scheme of things. Considering the time and his arrival on my doorstep.
"What happened?" I scowl at him. "What have you done, Edward?"
He stares at me, then chuckles. He peels back his lips and laughs, and the sound is harsh and ugly and so pain-filled that I wince.
I take a step forward. "Ed, what’s wrong?"
He firms his lips, looks me up and down, before kicking his bag aside, his movements barely restrained. The backpack hits the wall, the sound a soft thud that reverberates through my blood. My pulse skitters; the blood pounds at my temples.
"Ed?" I tilt my head, "What do you want?"
"You," he bites out the word, "I want you."
25
Ava
The tone of his voice slices through the thoughts in my mind. It coils around my breasts, slithers down to nestle between my legs. I shiver. "B…but…your vows."
"Fuck my vows."
I blink. A part of me rejoices. Yes, yes. This is what I wanted to hear. This is what I’ve been hoping for since I first met him… so… Why am I not jumping for joy? Why am I not throwing myself at him, winding my arms around his neck, locking my legs around his waist and dry humping myself on the tent in his crotch?
"Edward?" I stiffen, "What’s wrong?"
"What’s wrong is that you are still dressed."
"And you’re not..." I stare at his throat, "you’re not wearing your collar."
"I won't be needing it anymore."
"What does that mean?" I scowl.
