Page 83 of The Reluctant Billionaire

I step between her desk and her chair, pushing the chair backwards, and get to my knees in front of her.

‘It’s a lovely room,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve got great taste. But you’re the most beautiful thing in it by a million miles.’

She raises a shapely eyebrow.‘Thing?’

‘Thing,’ I confirm, cuffing her ankles with my hands and nudging her feet apart. I slide my hands up her legs, hitching the hem of her dress higher as I go. ‘Very tidy desk, by the way.’

‘What? Oh, yeah. I don’t like clutter. I like fabulous things, but not random shit everywhere.’

‘Makes sense,’ I say, but I’m thinkingI know exactly how to make use of that very tidy desk surface.

‘How has your morning been?’ I ask evenly, staring down at her knees, her smooth thighs, as they appear from under the light, frothy fabric.

‘Tiring,’ she says, but there’s an edge to her voice that suggests anticipation rather than weariness. ‘I feel like I’m still playing catch-up.’

‘Poor baby,’ I say. I’ve got the dress almost all the way up now. My thumbs drag up her inner thighs. ‘How about you let me be the boss for a few minutes?’

‘Sounds good,’ she says in a breathy voice I decide I really, really like.

‘Good girl. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a guy who turns up to make you feel better every time it all gets too much?’ I bend and kiss her knees. Softly. Chastely. ‘Who does all the work?’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ she agrees. I doubt she’s aware, but she’s just opened her legs a little more for me and I spy a glimpse of the pale pink thong she was skipping around her bedroom in this morning, driving me crazy while we got ready for work.

It’s payback time.

* * *

LOTTA

I stare at the beautiful man kneeling between my legs.

His suit is so perfectly cut, its wool so fine and lustrous, I could weep. But it’s not where my focus is, because I can’t stop looking at his gorgeous face. At the seriousness in those intense blue eyes, as if he means business. They rove over my body, tracing a path from my face to the apex of my parted thighs and back again, like they want to drink in every part of me.

Being the sole object of Aidan Duffy’s attention is a wonderful, mesmerising, heady thing. He’sAide. He’s amazing and open-hearted and an exceptional human being. He’s also the most magnificentthing, to use his language, I’ve ever set eyes on.

His hair is slicked back today with a bit of gel—not enough to make him look like a wanker banker, but enough to neaten up his unruly mane of unfairly thick hair. It shows off the lean, gorgeous planes of his face. The hard jut of his jaw, covered by his neatly clipped beard.

Aide Duffy is like no one I’ve ever seen.

And he’s kneeling between my legs like a penitent.

I just hope he’s planning on worshipping me.

He must be able to see my thong by now, and he goes to push the fabric of my totally sick new Dolce dress up even further, then reconsiders. With dextrous, careful fingers he locates the placket and starts undoing my buttons, one by one. The silk chiffon tumbles south on either side of my legs as he goes. He doesn’t stop once he has my thong exposed, but keeps on going until the entire dress is hanging open.

His satisfied smirk turns to something darker once he’s got me completely exposed for him. My nipples, encased in their pale pink lace, are already hard. He takes them in and then looks up at me. His pose may be one of supplication, but in this moment there’s no denying who’ll be calling the shots here.

He will.

He runs his hands over my body. Up my thighs, brushing over my thong far too fleetingly before he strokes my stomach. The sensation of his large, calloused hands on my bare skin sends butterflies flitting below the surface. I watch, rapt, to see what part of me he’ll touch next.

My boobs.

Obviously.

He cups them, and weighs them with pleased, approving noises that make me restless, running his thumbs roughly over my nipples so the lace scratches them in the best way.

‘God, your tits will be the death of me,’ he groans, resting his forehead on my stomach. I allow myself the pleasure of raking my fingers through his hair as I revel in the heat of his breath on my lower stomach and the pressure of his hands on my boobs.

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