Page 62 of His Cruel Billionaire Scorecard

Finally, he pulled away.

“I hope you tell me about it soon, whatever it is. Meanwhile, I hope you know my feelings for you are genuine, even with the pretend girlfriend thing. I’m attracted to you physically and emotionally.”

He pulled a lock of hair away from her face, and Olivia hugged him. Hoping everything would work out just fine, even down this slippery slope.

Then she did something surprising; she leaned over to whisper, “Wanna make love?”

Chapter 23

Romanneedednoconvincing.He’d driven like hell was on his heels towards his mansion, with Olivia clutching his hand tightly, heart pounding.

Roman could only hear the sound of thundering in his ears as he slid the passkey into the lift panel. He slipped it back into his pockets and turned to her.

“Time to get down to business,” he said, emphasizing each word.

She pressed against the lift wall as he walked towards her.

“Okay, woman, you asked for this. Don’t pass out. Not till I’m satisfied.”

He rested one hand against the paneling above her head and leaned over Olivia, searching her eyes.

Desire, lust, and confusion spoke back to him.

He was so close he could see the slight bump marrying the perfect line of her nose; the musky scent of her filled his nostrils.

Her scent of soap, perfume, and that sweet smell Roman had quickly become familiar with clung to her.

“What business do you have in mind?”

The question came out in a breathless sigh.

Her big eyes blinked back at him. Good god. She had practically melted into a puddle of lust already, and he hadn’t even touched her.

Roman cocked his head to one side, his eyes sweeping over her face. The fabric rustled as he took his other hand out of his trouser pockets.

He reached now to brush his fingertips against her bare legs, making her quiver, and in an intimate voice, he whispered, “It’s my business to find out what you have on under that dress, it’s been killing me all evening to rip it off.”

Olivia gasped just as his fingers stroked under the hem of her gown, bunching the silk and trailing it upwards.

“Do you think that’s wise?” She whispered in a breathy rush.

“What if someone in the mansion gets into the lift?”

He laughed at her petty concerns.

“Honey, this is a private lift. This is my private elevator,” he said, nuzzling his lips against her neck.

“No one is getting in here but me,” he said, biting into a lobe; the cream purse she clutched so tightly fell out of her hands.

Raising her arms, she stretched against him, pressing those soft breasts into his chest and threading her fingers through his spiky hair.

She turned her head, and his lips were hot against hers.

Firm and wet, his tongue thrust deep, and she shuddered.

He tasted chocolate, wine, and also unadulterated lust.

His questioning fingers found her bare buttocks; Roman grabbed her gown and, without a care, tugged it and ripped it apart.

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