Page 11 of Her Frosty Billionaire
“How did you?—”
“Building access app. Penthouse residents get into certain areas.”
He opened the door, and warm air rushed out. He gestured for me to go first. I stepped inside and stopped, my jaw dropping.
It was a greenhouse. A beautiful, hidden rooftop greenhouse that I had no idea existed. Glass walls and ceiling revealed the night sky above, scattered with stars. Grow lights cast everything in a soft, golden glow. Plants surrounded us—ferns and flowers and small trees in enormous pots, creating the feeling of a secret garden. In the center was a seating area with chairs in a circle.
“I can’t believe Dad never mentioned this place,” I said, turning slowly to take it all in.
“Dad?”
“He’s the senior building systems manager for Reboot. He has access to everything.” I laughed. “Then again, he’s not really the ‘stop and smell the roses’ type. Probably just sees it as another system to maintain.”
“Cruz had it built a few years ago. Wanted year-round greenery.” Noel closed the door behind us, and suddenly we were alone in this warm, plant-filled oasis. “Most residents don’t know it exists.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah.” But he wasn’t looking at the greenhouse. He was looking at me.
He crossed to me in two strides and kissed me again, deeper this time, more urgent. His hands slid into my hair, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing against him.
“Hope.” He broke the kiss, breathing hard. “If you want to stop, tell me now. Because in about thirty seconds, I’m not going to be able to.”
“I don’t want to stop.”
“You’re sure? Because I need you to be absolutely sure?—”
I grabbed his face and kissed him, pouring everything I felt into it. When I pulled back, I looked him straight in the eyes.
“I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”
Something in his expression shifted—became hungry, possessive. “Then come here.”
4
NOEL
Iwasn’t sure what came over me in the seconds that followed. I crossed to Hope, swept an arm behind her knees, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. A small, startled gasp escaped her, but her arms tightened around my neck and she buried her face against my throat.
I carried her a few steps to the largest chair—a deep, plush armchair that swallowed her curves. The muted sounds of the party nearby—the thrum of bass, the distant laughter—seemed to fade until the world narrowed to the sound of our breathing. Here, the only sounds were the quiet hum of the climate control and the ragged rhythm of our breathing.
My eyes never left hers as my hands went to the hem of her long, flowing skirt. I gathered the soft fabric in my fists, my gaze a silent question. Her only answer was a slight, almost imperceptible nod, her lips parted, her eyes dark with a trust that made my chest ache.
I shoved the skirt upward, bunching it around her waist, revealing the simple, white cotton panties beneath. The stark innocence of them against her trembling thighs was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.
I didn’t remove them. Instead, I dropped to my knees in front of the chair, my hands gripping her hips, and leaned forward. I pressed my mouth against the damp fabric, breathing in her scent—sweet and utterly her. I heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her hips jerk. Then I licked her—a slow, firm stroke through the thin fabric.
A moan tore from her, low and desperate. Her head fell back against the chair, her fingers tangling in my hair—not pushing me away but holding me there. I did it again, and again, until the soft material was soaked and she was writhing beneath my mouth, a continuous, pleading sound humming in her throat. Only then did I hook my fingers into the waistband and slide them down her legs, tossing them aside.
I returned to her, my hands spreading her thighs wider. I leaned in and licked her, bare this time, a slow, deliberate stroke from her entrance to the tight, aching bud of her clit.
She cried out, her back arching off the chair. I focused there, licking and sucking, my tongue circling the sensitive nub until her moans became broken sobs. I slid one finger, then two, inside her, feeling her clench around me, hot and impossibly tight.
The sensation of my mouth and my fingers working together must have been too much. I felt her body tighten, her inner muscles fluttering around my fingers. And then she was coming with a choked, gasping cry, her entire body shuddering through the release.
I gentled my touch, soothing her with soft kisses on her inner thighs as she trembled in the aftermath. The air between us was heavy with heat and the faint scent of pine from the greenhouse. After a long moment, she opened her eyes, her gaze hazy but focused.
“I want to see it,” she whispered, her voice raspy.
