Page 67 of The Billionaire’s Fake Fiancée
Turning my back on Jace, I shut my eyes.
Big mistake.
* * *
A solid wall of warmth against my back, and I burrow against it. A hand snakes across my waist, pulling me closer. Heat spools over me, into my skin. Sinking in. I let the sensations wash over me.
A touch glides over my arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. I push back against the unyielding wall of muscle at my back. His breath shudders over my neck, bringing with it that fresh sea-breeze smell. I know then where I am.
In bed.
With Jace.
And he's holding me.
I feel his hardness against the curve of my hip. He's so close, the feel of his skin surrounding me. His chest rising and falling in tandem with mine as if we were in synchrony.
Liquid desire pools in my belly, and a shudder runs down my back. I know then I must leave.
Now.
If I stay, we'll make love. I'll never get Jace out of my head after that.
But this is my last night here with him.
I hesitate, unsure what to do.
Jace makes the decision for me. He grips my hips and hauls me closer till I am pressed up against him.
His toenails scrape across the sole of my feet, and I shiver as the vibrations ripple over me.
His fingers slip under my shorts, under the lace of my panties, and a fresh wave of heat erupts inside.
Mercy.
I want him, I do. And it's not the money, or his status. It's the man himself. Who he is. The vulnerable man I'd glimpsed confused about his feelings for Asher. The one who yet misses his mother, yet portrays that tough, hardened investor to the world.
My very own fallen angel.
And I want him to want me.
I become aware of a hollow feeling deep inside. A pulse springing to life, pushing me to seek him out. The molten feeling grows, wetness pooling between my thighs. I lock my knees together, mouth going dry.
Without opening my eyes, I try to turn, only to find he's holding me in place.
That secret core inside me pulls at him, and I can smell his arousal. A deep, warm, musky scent that sends another spurt of molten heat through me.
I moan and try to turn again. As if understanding what I want, he pushes his finger inside me. I gasp and almost come with the shock.
"Shh." He blows against my ear and I shiver, even as he slides another finger inside. The heel of his hand brushes against my soft curls, tugging at me, pulling, and I moan again.
Hearing myself is so erotic, it turns me on even more. I lock my thighs around his hand, holding him captive. My muscles clench, and I try to pull him deeper inside.
His fingers dip in-out-in and I groan, bringing up my knees almost to my chest, curling around that throbbing in my center.
My fingers grip his forearm, feeling his muscles move. In and out, in and out, till it feels as if he's holding me with an invisible thread that runs all the way inside, deeper inside than I've ever let myself feel.
He turns, sliding me over so I am on top of him, my back on his chest, my thighs still wrapped around his hand. His other hand cups my breast, massaging it gently before squeezing the nipple.
