Page 40 of How to Win the Wild Billionaire

“You make me feel amazing, Dig,” Bay replied from a place far, far away. She was standing on that wave, waiting. Another second and she’d be flying.

“So close, Dig,” she said, placing her arms behind her head and gripping hair in her fingers, trying to hold on, trying to delay her flight.

Digby rocked his fingers within her, hitting a spot deeper inside, and Bay shouted as she accelerated, skating down that warm, rolling wave with all the skill of a world champion. She felt Digby’s face in her neck, his fingers digging into her hip, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want this intense ride, the sexual equivalent of riding one of the ocean’s big waves, to end.

After sucking every last sensation out of the most intense orgasm of her life, Bay collapsed against Digby’s chest, yawned and snuggled in. Like Olivia, she was exhausted, and there was nothing like fresh air, sex and the sea to lull one into sleep.

Digby stood up with her in his arms and walked into the master bedroom. He lowered her to the bed and draped a lightweight cotton blanket over her. “Sleep for a little while, Bay. I’ll wake you when dinner is ready.”

Bay yawned and forced her eyes open. They immediately drooped closed again. She waved in what she hoped was the direction of his groin. She had but he hadn’t... “What about, you know...you?”

“I’m good.” Digby dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Hopefully, we can pick that up later. But for now, sleep.”

Bay yawned again and, wrapping her arms around a pillow, wishing it were Digby, dropped off to sleep.

Bay woke ninety minutes later and, after a quick shower and changing into a short sleeveless dress, checked on Olivia. She’d kicked her blankets off and spread out; Bay knew that she’d sleep through, hopefully allowing her to sleep in, as well.

Pushing her hand through her hair, Bay walked into the kitchen and inhaled the distinctive and wonderful smell of fried onions and beef burgers. Following her nose, she returned to the entertainment deck to see Digby standing by the monstrous gas grill, wearing a bright pink apron with the words Kiss the Cook on the bib.

Since that was an order she was happy to obey, Bay placed her hand on his chest and did what she was told. Digby tasted her briefly before pulling back. He sent her an easy grin. “If we start that we won’t get food and I’m starving.”

So was she. Bay dropped into a chair, crossed her legs and nodded when Digby offered her a beer. Eschewing a glass, she took the icy Mexican brew he offered, complete with a slice of lime, and took a long sip. “What’s the time?” she idly asked.

Digby consulted his bells-and-whistles-and-the-kitchen-sink watch. “A little more than half past eight.”

The sun set earlier here than it did in Cape Town and it was now fully dark. Digby had flicked on the lights to the house and entertainment area and Bay imagined that ships at sea could see straight into the house. Thank God there weren’t any other houses for miles around.

“I was looking through your portfolio of drawings for the hotel while you were sleeping,” Digby said, picking up his own bottle of beer and taking a sip.

Bay wrinkled her nose. “I am not happy with what I’ve come up with for the new honeymoon suite. It’s blah...”

“I think you are being too hard on yourself—I thought it was great.”

It really wasn’t, but she appreciated his comment. “I’m missing something. Hopefully it’ll come to me sooner rather than later.”

Digby lifted the lid of the gas barbecue to check on the beef patties. “You went to Stellies, right?”

Bay nodded, smiling at his use of the nickname for her old university, the University of Stellenbosch.

“I didn’t know you could do a degree in interior design there.”

Bay rested her head against the back of the chair. “I didn’t do a degree in interior design—I did a diploma after I graduated.”

Digby looked confused. “Then what did you get a degree in?”

“Mechanical engineering.”

Digby lowered his beer bottle to stare at her. “Seriously?”

Bay nodded. “As a heart attack. I hated every bloody minute of it, but yeah, I got it done. I’m even still registered with the engineering council.”

Digby placed his beer down and his hands on the table, staring at her. “Wait, hold on, let me get this straight. You have a degree in mechanical engineering?”

“Yep.”

“And you hated it?”

“Yep.”

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