Page 28 of The Billionaire’s Fake Fiancée
Jace. I feel his solid presence, next to me as he slips his arm around my waist. I barely stop myself from leaning on his strength.
The woman's face breaks into a smile, at which the older man turns. His eyes fall on Jace and pause with no change of expression. Before moving to me. Sweeping over me.
His gaze pauses on my breasts and my waist, sliding down my legs before snapping back to my face.
The audacity.
He walks toward us and I flinch. I'd have taken a step back, if it were not for Jace's arm, a steel band around my waist. His fingers splay, heat seeping through the material. He's trying to calm me.
I can't stop staring at the man approaching us.
Green eyes. Eyes familiar, yet different from Jace's. No trace of that silver that makes Jace so unique. No trace of life.
Yeah, Jace's eyes are alive, vital. Something I hadn't realized till now. In contrast this man's eyes are ice chips.
As the older man takes another step forward, there's no mistaking the threat, the anger implicit in every muscle on his frame.
Tension crackles between the two men. Conversation around us ceases. Everyone's watching, waiting. To see what happens next.
Caught in the crossfire, my heart stutters in fear. Then starts beating again. So fast I feel each. Individual. Heartbeat.
Jace's grip on me tightens. The pain cuts through my haze of confusion. He places a finger below my chin and turns my face to him.
"Look at me, Sienna," his voice is urgent, a frown marring his forehead.
I fix my gaze on the hollow of his neck, taking in a deep breath to steady myself.
The man stops beside us, but Jace doesn't acknowledge him. In a pointed snub, he bends down and brushes his lips over mine. Arm heavy around my waist, the other burning through the material on my shoulders, he hauls me to him, signaling his intent.
I am his. No mistaking the ownership.
Then Jace's tongue thrusts itself between my lips and I forget everything. The people watching us, the models by the pool. Everything fades.
Everything, except for the liquid fire that springs to life in my lower belly. The touch of his lips cuts to my core. Molten heat licks my nerve-endings.
I moan in my throat.
The sound is so erotic it makes my knees go weak. It also seems to remind Jace where we are. He raises his head, his eyes as stormy as the confusion inside me.
His palm slides down my back to rest on the curve of my waist.
Lips still throbbing from his kiss, I watch Jace turn around to the man who's been watching us all along.
"Hello, Father."
13
Sienna
* * *
"Quite a demonstration," Jace’s father’s voice slides over my skin. "You must be Sienna." The man holds out his hand. "I’m Darren."
His palm is rough, as if he spent the early years of his life in hard physical labor and now is trying to make up for it.
Dry warmth oozes into my blood. I shudder, tugging my hand. He lets go, then turns to Jace.
"So, the prodigal returns?" Sharp and cutting, the clipped English accent is underpinned by a rougher one I cannot place. Does he wear his mixed accent as a badge of his self-made status?
