Page 21 of Billionaire in Disguise

Control fueled his success.It was what made Dominick a billionaire before the age of thirty, forging a company with hard work, passion and a dream. It was what put him on the cover of countless business magazines, allowed him to build an international juggernaut and write a bestseller that touched millions. Yet watching Adrianna emerge in the fabric scraps masquerading as a bikini?

That tested his control like nothing else.

It was made of string. Oh, there were other parts, too. Officially it covered the necessary bits, barely. When she sauntered in that teeny, tiny yellow bikini (and yes, it was polka-dotted), he did what any strong, self-assured, confident man would do:

He stared. Then he stared some more. And proceeded to stare.

He didn’t mean to, of course. It was rather unseemly. But the bikini was way too small, and Adrianna was way too…

Beautiful. Lovely. Exquisite. Perfect.Oh-so-tempting.

She was desire itself, flawless with curves that made a man’s mouth water. Her skin was creamy pinkness, lovely features highlighted by a waterfall of silky black hair. Generous breasts overfilled the two triangles, leading down to a trim waist, before flaring to curvy hips and firm legs. Her toes were painted pink with sparkles.

She stopped directly in front of him, folded her arms across her chest. It lifted…everything.

“Are you all right?” Her voice emerged breathless.

“Of course.” His own voice emerged like a seventh grader on the verge of puberty. He cleared his throat, deepened it. “Of course.” And then, just because he couldn’t not, he murmured, “You’re beautiful.”

She flushed, yet a hint of pleasure sparked. “Ready to go in the water?”

Yes, he was.

The water was a shock of cold, yet as delightful as Mrs. Lewis predicted. The sun’s sweltering heat instantly lessened as the coolness surrounded him, as he drifted in blissful weightlessness. Even Adrianna’s features relaxed. “This feels good,” she admitted.

“It does.” He leaned back and eased his body, lying in a floating position. He bobbed gently up and down… until a tsunami hit.

He stood instantly, shaking himself like a dog in a rain shower. Looked at the woman sitting primly on the stairs, her expression the picture of feigned innocence. “Did you just splash me?”

“Nope.” Her lips twitched.

“Really?” He walked along the bottom of the pool, folded his arms as he emerged into the shallow side. “Because I distinctly felt a splash.”

“Did you?” She choked back a laugh. “Are you certain?”

He looked down at his waterlogged form. “Fairly certain.”

“It must have been someone else.” She tapped her chin. “Or perhaps something else. As you know, there are alligators in Florida.”

He chuckled lowly, edging into her space. “Admit it was you.”

She lifted her chin. The sunlight glinted off cat green eyes, and her hair sparkled like glittering onyx. “All right, I admit it. You just lost the splashing contest.”

She was adorable. “You didn’t tell me we were having a splashing contest.”

“Ignorance of the game doesn’t mean you can’t lose.” She stuck her cute little nose in the air. “So you lost.”

“Did I?” he murmured. “I’d like a rematch.”

“A rematch? Why not? I’m sure I can–”

He didn’t let her finish. He splashed her beautiful form, careful not to be too forceful, even as he drenched her. She stared at him, her mouth agape, her entire body glistening with diamond droplets. The urge to smooth them was almost irresistible.

“You’re in trouble now,” she growled playfully. “I’m a gold medal winner in competitive splashing.”

Digging her hands into the liquid weaponry, she deluged him with half the Atlantic, even as he returned her volleys. Back and forth, simultaneously and endlessly, they splashed, filling the air with moisture, and the world with explosive booms. Finally, he held up his hands. “You win.”

“All right!” She pumped her fist in the air, as exuberant as any Olympic champion and as breathtaking as any beauty queen. She lifted her shoulder cheekily. “So what do I win?”

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