Page 15 of Dating the Billionaire
A low groan was torn from his throat. It was killing him as much as it was killing her, the tension that had built between them the entire evening.
A kiss had never turned her on as much as his did. Her nipples tightened and pressed against the fabric of her dress. She wanted to tear it from her body, wanted to tear the last of the tuxedo from his. But his kiss...
She was unable to break the contact with his mouth. She tasted on his lips the sweet cream and bitter coffee from the tiramisu and the bite of the grappa they’d had in shot glasses at the nightclub. She wanted more than just a taste, so she dipped her tongue between the seam of his lips.
He groaned, and as if his control snapped, he finally touched her with his hands, his palms sliding over her shoulders to her back.
She waited for the rasp of her zipper, but he didn’t touch the tab. Just her...gliding his hands up and down her back to the curve of her hips.
She arched against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest where his heart pounded the same quick tempo as hers. She also rubbed her hips against his straining erection.
He groaned against her lips and murmured, “You Americans are always in such a hurry. Slow down...” His mouth slid across hers, slid down her cheek to the curve of her jaw and then her neck. His thick curly hair tickled her skin.
She wanted him so badly, her body trembled with desire. She reached out for the buttons on his shirt, sliding the studs through the holes to bare his chest. Thick hair covered heavy muscles. For a billionaire, he was incredibly fit; he must have a personal trainer.
Hell, he probably had a private plane as well. Which was good; their paths were unlikely to ever cross again. And she could be as free and wild sexually with him as she wanted without worrying about the embarrassment of having to see him again.
She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and reached for his belt.
His hands caught hers, holding them still. “Slow down,” he murmured again. “I want to enjoy you.”
She laughed. “That’s what I want to do with you.” Just this once...with a man her very best friend had guaranteed was safe.
“Ladies first,” he admonished her.
She tugged her wrists free of his and reached for him again, but before she could touch him, he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her through the living area into the bedroom. A giggle slipped out and then a soft howl of protest. “No, you said ladies first.”
“To be enjoyed,” he told her. “I’ve been wanting all night to see you naked, to touch you, to taste you...”
“Ditto,” she said, “so you should do the gentlemanly thing and let me go first.”
“I want you to come first,” he agreed as he flopped her onto a very soft mattress covered in very silky sheets. “Over and over again I want you to come.”
She wanted that, too. So damn much. She’d been so focused on the business that she hadn’t had more than a quick, mechanical release in a very long time.
A moan slipped out of her lips, and she shifted against the silky sheets as tension wound inside her. She needed to release that tension so badly.
He reached down and pressed a finger across her lips. “Shh,” he murmured. “Not yet... I haven’t done anything to earn those moans.”
“Then earn them,” she challenged him, giving herself over to pleasure.
He replaced his fingers with his lips, kissing her softly before deepening the kiss—before sliding his tongue into her mouth. He made love to her mouth like she wanted him to make love to her body.
She sucked his tongue deeper and nipped it lightly with her teeth. He groaned. And she pulled back to tease, “I haven’t done anything to earn that yet.”
“You are,” he murmured. “You are...”
She tried pulling him down from where he knelt on the edge of the bed, tried pulling him on top of her. But although she was strong, he was stronger. Excitement rippled through her that he might actually match her—in passion and power.
“But you’re not going to rush me,” he warned her. “I want to savor you like we savored that meal. I want to taste you everywhere.”
He leaned over again but his mouth missed hers, trailing across her cheek instead and along her jaw to her throat. His tongue flicked over her pulse, which pounded madly for him. Then he moved lower, his soft hair brushing across her skin as his mouth left kisses over her breasts, which swelled over the top of her dress. He pushed down one of the spaghetti straps and then the other, exposing her strapless bra. Then, reaching beneath her, he easily released the bra, freeing her breasts.
A groan slipped out of his lips again.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said. She couldn’t, not with the straps of the dress pinning her arms to her sides. If she wanted to, though, she was strong enough to tear those straps. But she wasn’t afraid of being restrained; she was excited. Everything about Matteo Rinaldi excited her.
“You are,” he said, his voice gruff with passion. “That is all you need to do.” He touched her breasts as if tracing them, his fingers sliding over the curve of each mound before flicking across the nipples. “Just be,” he continued, “so damn beautiful and sexy and responsive.”
