Page 13 of The Billionaire's One-Night Baby

She started to protest, saw the amusement in his eyes and shrugged. ‘You’re right, they are uncomfortable. But also very gorgeous.’

‘That they are,’ Jago agreed when Dodi sat down on the edge of the sofa and bent down to unbuckle the strap around her ankle. She murmured her relief and slipped off the other shoe, rotating her feet at the ankles.

‘Pretty, pretty little instruments of torture,’ Dodi murmured.

‘Is there any point in asking why you wear them if they hurt? Or is that one of those inexplicable things women do that we will never understand?’

‘As you said, butts and legs.’ Dodi grinned, picked up her wine and pulled her feet under her bottom, her dress flowing over her knees and down her legs. Jago slid further down the sofa and rested his head against the back, looking relaxed for the first time that evening. Dodi tamped down the urge to run her fingers down his jaw, to rub her nose in the stubble on his cheeks.

By being here with him, feeling so comfortable in his space, she was playing with fire. If he kissed her, there was a very good chance of their clothes flying off. She wasn’t sure if the idea excited or terrified her. Or both.

She nodded to a door on the other side of the room. ‘Your bedroom?’

‘Walk-in closet, bedroom and then a bathroom,’ Jago replied. ‘Feel free to take a look.’

Curious about him, and his space, she stood and walked into his bedroom, taking in the textured, deep navy walls and the enormous bed covered in white linen. Yet another wall was covered in shelves, the verdigris copper pipes and wooden shelves adding warmth to the room. A trio of atmospheric charcoal sketches in matt black frames caught her attention. They were, she quickly realised, abstract portraits of Jago and his siblings.

This was another room that was lived-in. A jacket lay across the arm of a navy-and-grey-striped armchair. A book was face down on the side table. A huge window led onto yet another private balcony that looked over the back garden.

‘Like it?’

Dodi felt his breath skimming across the top of her head, the words warming her from the inside out. She turned and found herself just an inch from him. One tiny step and she’d be in his arms, one lift of her toes and her mouth would reach his. Like before, the urge to kiss him was overwhelming, the need to be in his arms, her mouth under his, urgent.

He muttered a low, indistinguishable curse and placed his hands on her hips, gently pulling her towards him. She wanted to be sensible, to step away, but her body had other plans and she all but fell into his arms in her eagerness to get closer to him.

He looked down at her mouth before dragging his eyes up to slam into hers. ‘I’ve told myself, over and over, that this is crazy, I have no idea where this need for you comes from but I’m tired of talking myself out of having you,’ Jago murmured. ‘I think I should andmustkiss you...everywhere. Tell me you want me to do that.’

‘I shouldn’t but I do,’ Dodi told him, reluctance tinging her words.

‘Thank God.’

Jago nibbled her jaw, and she inhaled his cologne, and her mind went fuzzy. She lifted her chin to give him better access to the spot where her neck met her jaw, and he dropped an open-mouthed kiss on her skin.

Dodi released a turned-on groan. ‘I want you, but I don’t think this is a good idea, Jago.’

‘Best idea I’ve had for a long time. Stop thinking, Elodie Kate, just feel.’

This wasn’t her. She didn’t find herself in the bedrooms of sexy billionaires who smelled of midnight and looked like temptation. She knew she should walk away, find her way through his enormous house and back to her car, but being sensible wasn’t what she wanted to be tonight. She wanted to be a little wild, throw caution to the wind, step away from the reality of her life—working too hard and playing too little—andfeel. She wanted to feel like a woman again, sexy, desired, wanted.

But...

Jago placed a hand on her heart, and her nipple under his hand reacted immediately, instinctively. ‘Your eyes are blue fire and your heart is pounding. You want me, Dodi, as I want you.’

‘I don’t want to want you,’ Dodi replied, sounding cross.

He smiled, amusement flashing in his eyes. ‘Don’t deny yourself—don’t deny this, us. And, for God’s sake, stop thinking. Give me one night, and we’ll go back to normal tomorrow...whatever normal is.’

His words reassured Dodi a fraction, and she knew that Jago always kept his word. They could have their moment out of time and then it would be done, a nice memory, something to remember when she was old and grey. He wouldn’t hassle her for another round, demand more, allude to it in conversation. Jago might not talk a lot, or hardly at all, but she trusted every word out of his mouth.

In the morning, when she was back at her house, this night would be a secret the two of them shared.

Dodi tapped her fingers to her mouth, knowing that she was on the slippery slope to saying yes, to sharing her body and this experience with a man who’d been on the periphery of her life for the last decade. She wasn’t someone who indulged in casual encounters, who had one-night stands—this would be her first—but it had been so long since she’d been held, since she’d had her body stroked, since she’d heard a masculine voice in her ear telling her she was beautiful, how good she felt...

So long since she’d experienced the tangle of limbs, the rough texture of a man’s skin, being rocketed up and up and feeling as if she could touch the stars.

She was a strong, independent, modern-day woman but even a strong woman needed to feel, if only for a few hours, sexy and desired, to lie within a strong man’s arms.

‘Come to bed with me, Elodie Kate,’ Jago said, taking her hand and pulling her to the end of his massive bed. She expected him to kiss her, to follow up his suggestion with a sexy swipe of his lips, his tongue twisting around hers, but he pulled her against him, cuddling her to his chest, allowing her the space and time to make up her mind, to get her jumbled thoughts into some sort of order. Dodi slid her hands up and down his ribcage, feeling his hard muscles under the thin cotton of his shirt. She rested her nose in the vee of his open shirt and inhaled his scent—soap and cologne and a deeper note that was pure Jago. She touched her tongue to his skin and felt him shudder, relieved to know that she could make this terse, uncommunicative man tremble.

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