Page 43 of Meeting the Billionaire Boss

When Edward introduces me to the owners of the stately home, I smile at them. Timothy Seymour is a tall man in his sixties with a large belly and red cheeks and he greets me with genuine warmth. His wife, Ellen, smiles but her mouth seems pinched, as if she’s being polite but would really rather that I wasn’t gracing her home with my working-class presence. Edward asks after their children Dempsey, Spencer and Margot, making me wonder if they have a book of names suitable for showing off their wealth and status.

And then we move on, and Edward leads me to a quiet corner. He grabs a champagne flute from a passing tray and presses it into my hand.

‘Drink,’ he says and I do, gratefully imbibing the cold, crisp drink. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I think so.’ I nod and take another sip of champagne. ‘So many names I’m dizzy. I’ll never remember them all.’

‘You don’t need to.’ He shakes his head. ‘We’ll only see the majority of them at Christmas and we can do some revision before next year.’ His wink makes me giggle.

He sounds so certain, reminding me that we’ll be together for a while and it’s both reassuring and yet terrifying. Right now, Edward is being kind and attentive because he still wants something from me but will that change when I sign the marriage contract? Will having my commitment turn him off me the way that my mum’s love and devotion to my father failed to keep him close?

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.

‘Nothing.’ I drain my glass and he takes it and places it on an ornate side table.

‘Come with me.’ He takes my hand and leads me through the house, away from the chatter and the waiting staff. After looking around, he pushes a door then pulls me through and closes it behind us.

The smell of books hits me first followed by a faint whiff of woodsmoke and something else that I think is beeswax furniture polish. I crane my neck to look beyond Edward but he has me pinned against the door.

His chest is rising and falling quickly and there’s something in his eyes that makes me nervous. His Adam’s apple bobs and he licks his lips hungrily.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘It’s you.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘In this damned dress. I knew you’d look good in it but fuck, Ava, you’re so hot that I can barely keep my hands to myself.’

I don’t know what to say to this because my desire for him is a physical ache.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘Why are you sorry?’

‘I’m struggling.’ He steps away and paces the room, creating space between us and I feel cold, want him close to me again. The room is lit by table lamps, bright enough to see but dark enough to create shadows in the corners and it makes me suddenly irrationally afraid that the darkness could encroach upon us and swallow us whole.

‘Tell me.’ I push away from the door and approach him but he holds up a hand.

‘This is a business arrangement and I thought I could do it without getting involved with you, but…’

‘It’s hard, right?’ I ask and he meets my eyes.

‘So hard.’

I hold out a hand and he looks at it, a muscle in his jaw twitching. And then he comes to me, quickly, and I’m against the door again, the panels digging into my shoulder blades. His lips are close to mine, so close I can feel the heat of his breath.

‘You’re driving me crazy, Ava. I’ve been shut down for so long and now, you’re doing something to me that I don’t understand.’

He moves closer and kisses me gently, feathering his lips over my mouth, my neck and then lower. He slides the dress off my shoulders and exposes my breasts, takes them in his hands, squeezing, cupping, adoring. When he lowers his head and takes my right nipple in his mouth, I arch my back to give him better access and he suckles at me, his hunger making something at my core tighten like there’s a link from nipple to pussy. He moves to the other breast and I grab his head, pressing him closer, wanting more.

‘You’re fucking gorgeous,’ he mutters before filling his mouth with me again.

‘I want you so much,’ I say and he looks up, all rational thought gone from his eyes, something far more primal there now.

He hitches up my dress, pushes the thong aside then slides a finger over my clit, up and down, building tension inside me. I open my legs wider to give him better access and he pushes a finger inside me then another while he circles my clit with the pad of his thumb. Within seconds an orgasm crashes through me and I bite down on my lip to stop myself crying out.

‘You’re soaking wet, Ava,’ he says, holding up his hand to show me. He licks his fingers slowly, the action reminding me of how good that tongue feels between my legs. ‘And you taste like champagne.’

‘Make love to me, Edward.’

He pauses for a moment then takes my hand and places it on his crotch. Beneath his suit trousers he’s rock hard and I want him inside me, filling me up and making me whole.

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