Page 63 of His Cruel Billionaire Scorecard

Olivia gasped loudly, but he stepped back to enjoy the view, nodding in acknowledgment. His mouth went bone dry with admiration.

“Damn, you’re wearing a thong?”

Olivia’s face was flushed, and she refused to meet his eyes as he broke contact.

“Of course I am. I don’t want a visible panty line,” she said.

“You’re sending me over the abyss,” he groaned.

Roman grabbed her to stroke her naked flesh, slipping his finger under the satin string and pushing her against a wall, enveloping her.

He hoisted her up, pinning his knee against her and fondling her boobs that now spilled out of the gown.

His palms were hot against her skin, and he slid them down against her backside.

“Put your legs around my waist,” he commanded.

She did her best, she was told. Her middle was rubbing against the growing pressure straining against his trousers, and Olivia clung to Roman as he walked out of the lift.

***

Oh my god, this is happening, Olivia thought as they walked out of the lift.

Her heart was pounding so fast she could only hope he couldn’t hear her rapid heartbeats as she clung to him for life.

The lift buzzed softly and opened.

The first thing that struck her was the esoteric luxury that surrounded them. Even though she could barely see through his arms and only caught glimpses yet was obvious.

Most of her thoughts and feelings were concentrated on the heat and his hardness until she caught her reflection in the mirror.

She looked flush, her lips red and swollen.

Olivia didn’t recognize the girl that stared back at her; she looked hungry and in serious need.

Her gown was hiked up to her waist, or what was left of it anyway, and his large hands were dark against the pale skin of her bum.

She watched her skin flush red as he carried her into his bedroom.

It was a huge bed that dominated the sparsely furnished space; long purple drapes on the far end of the bed were drawn back, revealing the romantic view of New York at night.

Roman’s breathing was harsh against her hair, and her body was so hot she could barely breathe even when she was sure the air conditioners were turned on to the fullest. Holy hell.

He let Olivia down slowly; the soft swish of her gown, as their bodies brushed, sounded like a loud radio station. Her feet sank into the impossibly soft rug; she lost her heels somewhere.

Roman put firm hands on her shoulder and turned her away from him, standing behind her.

She heard the grudging zip of her gown, his teeth nipping the bare skin of her shoulder, sending shivers down her spine.

Roman swore something imperceptible and pulled the dress off her with impatient hands and unclipped her bra, Olivia’s breasts swelling as he released them from their lacy confinement.

She looked up and pulled in a shaky breath; the sight of both of them reflecting against the night was unbearably erotic.

She was naked and trembling except for the red satin underwear, and he stood, tall and overwhelming, behind her, still fully dressed.

His hands cupped her breasts, the rough skin of his thumbs stroking against the stiff, sensitive peaks of her nipples that were getting harder by the minute.

He captured them in his fingers, tugged and squeezed.

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