Page 9 of How to Win the Wild Billionaire

Digby watched as her spine straightened. She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin, and their very brief moment of connection wafted away on the slight breeze blowing off Table Mountain.

He shouldn’t feel so disappointed; she was just another woman passing through his life.

Yeah, he was attracted to her, found her unusual and unsettling, but he was attracted to women all the time. The days when he chased down everyone who caught his eye were long gone...

“I should get going,” Bay said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m sure Olivia is awake, and you have work of your own to do.”

She had no idea of the length of his to-do list but meeting Bay was worth having to work late to catch up on lost time today. She was a breath of fresh air. “I do. But before you go, I have something else I want to show you.”

Bay frowned. “Another room?”

“No, this can never be redecorated or improved on,” Digby said, walking down the balcony. At the corner of the building, where the balcony made a right-angle turn, he stood back and gestured Bay to walk around the corner. She sent him a puzzled look but did as he asked and her sharp intake of breath was what he’d been waiting for.

Joining her at the railing, he smiled at the incredible view of Table Mountain looming over the hotel. His forefathers had purchased this plot of land purely for the view of the mountain, and it was said to be the best view of the world-famous landmark in the city. Rising above them to an impressive height, it was frequently covered when a rolling cloud, also known as the tablecloth, formed when the southeaster blew. But today the mountain was bare and utterly impressive.

“It’s so beautiful. You’re so lucky to live here, to have this view,” Bay told him, her voice soft with awe and appreciation.

“Standing here on this balcony and looking at the mountain is my very first memory,” Digby told her, unsure why he was revealing something so personal. “When my brother and I decided to rebuild the Tempest-Vane group of companies, I insisted that this hotel should be the first business we wrestled back.”

A smile touched Bay’s lovely mouth. “And was it a wrestle?”

He shrugged. “We made the owner an offer he couldn’t refuse. He didn’t so it was reasonably easy.

“Unlike the bloody mine,” he added, wondering why he was running his mouth. “Now that was a nightmare.”

“There’s a story there,” Bay said, sounding curious.

“Complete with a slightly crazy, utterly demanding bride, my brother meeting Brin, him falling in love and tough negotiations with a greedy mine owner.”

Bay smiled, a proper, wide, open smile and Digby placed his hand on the balustrade to anchor himself. Holy hell, that smile was definitely her superpower.

He stared at her, she stared back and he couldn’t help his eyes going to her lips, wondering whether her mouth would taste like sunshine. Would her eyes lighten or darken with passion? Would her long fingers slide up his neck, into his hair?

He couldn’t let her leave without finding out.

He lowered his mouth, bridging the gap between them. Her lips formed a small “oh”—excitement or surprise?—and because she didn’t pull or push him away, he covered her lips with his, lifting his hand to trace his thumb across her cheekbone. Yeah, soft. So soft.

Her mouth was land he wanted to explore, tempting and luscious, but Digby knew he couldn’t push; if he did, she’d bolt. He carefully placed his hands on her tiny waist and gently pulled her into him, surprised at how well their bodies fit. Feeling her tension, he ran a reassuring hand down her back and increased the pressure on her mouth, teasing her lips to open, and when she allowed him in, his world—normally so steady—tilted off its axis. Digby felt like he’d taken a hit of something illicit. He felt shaky and disorientated, hot and cold...weird.

He wanted to shake his head to clear it, but that meant dislodging his mouth from Bay’s and that was impossible. He’d find the willpower to stop ravaging her mouth, but he’d need a minute more. Or ten.

Bay softened, released a small noise of approval and then those hands were in his hair, running down his neck, across his shoulder blades. She felt like warmth and home and comfort, emotions he didn’t normally associate with foreplay.

And thiswasforeplay.

Digby lifted his hand to her shirt, sighing when his hand covered her breast, pleased when her responsive nipple pushed into the palm of his hand. He rubbed his knuckle over the tight point and that action broke the connection between them. Bay jerked back, looking up at him with wide, startled eyes.

“What are we doing?” she whipped the question out, looking as unsettled as he felt.

Digby hoped she wouldn’t notice his bobbing Adam’s apple and the slight tremor in his hands. “Kissing in the sunlight,” he answered, resorting to flippancy.

Bay pushed her hands into her hair, loosening the knot on the back of her head, and Digby watched, fascinated when tendrils fell down her back. He’d love to pull those pins from her hair, to see the contrast between her dark hair, shot with red, and her pale skin, to see where else he could find freckles on her.

“I need to go,” Bay said, bending down to pick up her bag and art satchel. He’d been so entranced by her, having her in his arms, he hadn’t noticed that she’d dropped either.

He had so much work to do, a meeting to attend, but all Digby wanted to do was to keep kissing her in the summer sun. He knew this property inside out and, following a series of seldom-used corridors, he could walk them through the hotel unseen. They could be in his house at the back of the property in ten minutes; he could have her naked in eleven.

Why this woman and why now? Sex, finding it and enjoying it, was easy. He had at least a dozen women whom he could text and set up dinner, followed by some bed-based fun. Or he could go to a club and pick up a woman, or even, if he was feeling lazy, a guest sitting in his world-famous bar downstairs.

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