Page 36 of How To Tempt The Off-Limits Billionaire

He didn’t return her smile. Consent was too sensitive a subject to joke about. “I’d pull back and...”

“And?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.

“Probably punch a wall,” Muzi reluctantly admitted.

Ro touched his jaw with her fingertips. “I think you’ve been hurt enough, Triple M, so, yes, this is very okay. Or it will be when you...aargh.” On hearing her yes, he’d pushed inside, and realized that she was oh so tight. For the first time in fifteen years, he wondered if he’d fit, if he’d be able to seat himself in her. He was a big guy and she was petite...

He reached down and touched her core, and pleasure flashed across her face. He felt her relax, and he sank deeper into her, groaning all the way.

Too good, there was no way he could last.

Muzi recited chemistry formulas in his head, the periodic table and the lyrics to Mi Casa’s “Jika.” But nothing could stop the freight train of pleasure rushing down on him.

“I can’t wait...you need to come,” Muzi ground out, knowing he had ten seconds, maybe less, before all hell, the good kind, broke loose.

Ro arched her back, slammed her hips up and came again, her fist to her mouth to stop the scream he knew she wanted to release.

He wanted to tell her he didn’t care how loud she got, that there was no one to hear them, but that was for later, right now he was about to be smacked by pleasure and he stepped right into its path.

He’d never had it so good, was Muzi’s last thought before he spiraled away.

Muzi missed work that morning. And that afternoon.

Of course, having a recently dislocated shoulder, a suspected concussion and a two-inch gash on his leg were great excuses to play hooky. Nobody needed to know—and, according to Muzi, as CEO he didn’t need to explain a damn thing—that they’d spent most of the day in bed and used quite a few condoms.

Quite. A. Few.

Ro was, frankly, pretty damn exhausted.

Showered and dressed, Ro walked out of Muzi’s bedroom and through his house, and after stopping in the kitchen to pick up a soda—she needed a sugar and caffeine hit—she walked onto the entertainment deck and flopped down into a chair and put her feet up on the railing.

After showering together, and indulging in some heavy petting, Muzi told her that he needed to go into his home office and check his emails and return calls, and Ro was glad for the opportunity to be alone.

She needed to think.

Best lover...check.

Best sex ever...check.

Least inhibited she’d ever been...check, check, check.

Ro sipped her drink and rested her head against the back of the comfortable chair, content to watch the sun dip behind the mountains. It was late, after six and she’d accomplished nothing today, and no, a bunch of orgasms didn’t count.

Or did they?

Pulling her thoughts off Muzi and the fun they’d had—and it had been fun—she remembered that there was still so much work to do at St. Urban. The thatch needed to be replaced, she needed to get an antique expert in to value the furniture, and she suspected the place needed to be rewired.

She had weeks, months, of work ahead of her and she was glad to have an excuse to hang around Franschhoek, to be where Muzi, sometimes, was. She wanted to stay in this house, in his bed, in his arms for...hell, the longest time, probably forever.

Ro blew a curl out of her eyes, irritated with herself.

Stop fantasizing and embrace a little bit of reality, Roisin.

She had plans to make, lawyers to meet, things to do but her thoughts kept coming back to the intriguing man a couple of doors away.

Being with him had been earth-shattering, she’d adored being loved by him, she’d so enjoyed giving him pleasure...

Be sensible, Roisin.You’re a reasonably intelligent woman, think this through.

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