Page 87 of His Cruel Billionaire Scorecard

He tore his mouth from hers and dragged kisses from her jaw to her ear and just beneath, where the sensitized pulse point made her whimper and writhe.

“This outfit… it’s killing me.”

“It’s nothing special.”

He caressed her through the fabric, his touch setting her skin alight. “You’re wrong. The way it looks against your skin, the way it feels… It’s my favorite.”

Roman murmured his agreement into the curve of her neck, his teeth nipping, his lips soft. He hooked his finger beneath one strap and teased it down.

“No bra too…”

Her insides quivered at the lustful heat in his voice, the thrill of what was to come.

“You are killing me, Olivia.”

“If this is how dying feels….” she forked her fingers through his hair and watched him as he continued to unveil her. “I’d do it a thousand times over with you.”

It came out without thought, without reservation, and his eyes flicked to hers, passion blazing in their depths. She wondered if she’d said too much and overstepped an invisible line… panic pulsed through her, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“You and me both.” It was barely audible, a second’s relief before the heat took over, warmth rushing through her core as he exposed one taut and needy peak to the cool air of the room.

She watched, enraptured as he wet his bottom lip, the glimpse of tongue making her stomach clench, and he bowed his head, his breath sweeping over the sensitized nipple, his tongue following, sucking slowly and deeply.

Olivia gripped his shoulders, her nails clawing into his shirt as she arched into the caress, his name a moan on her lips. Roman cupped her breast and held her steady to his attention, his teeth grazing, his tongue flicking, his mouth sucking her in deep.

Pleasure surged fast and furious within her, her toes curling into the bed sheets as she grasped him like some form of anchor, fearing its intensity and reveling in it all the same. She pressed her head back into the pillow and clamped her eyes shut as she panted for air and cried out for more.

His hand fell to the belt at her waist, the only thing holding her pants in place, and with one sharp tug, he saw it undone.

He rose onto his knees, hemming her in with his thighs—it had never felt so good to be trapped. “One wrong move and it’s-”

He pulled down her pants, trailing fingers along her thighs to demonstrate his point, her small black thong shimmering in the light as he hungrily took her all in.

Brazenly, she lay there, goosebumps prickling over her skin, her nipples tightening further against the coolness of the room.

“I could watch forever.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Get back here.”

His grin was devilish as he dropped forward, and she pressed her palms into his chest, preventing him from getting any closer. “Not so fast.”

She reached for the buttons of his shirt, undid one, and felt the tension in his body swell exponentially; she saw his jaw and mouth tighten.

His breath shuddered out of him, his eyes blazing into hers as he kissed her deeply again. “Here I am.”

Her heart pulsed, her fingers unsteady as she stroked the shirt from his shoulders down his back, savoring the heat of his bare skin, the strength rippling beneath her touch.

He rose when she couldn’t reach any further, tugging the rest of it away, and she couldn’t breathe at the sight of him. He was everything–he made ‘pretty’ masculine. He was beautiful, sexy, magnificent, and God, how she wanted him.

He came back to her, his hands planted into her bed on either side of her, and she shook her head.

She lowered her hands to his bronzed chest, marveling at the sheer strength beneath her touch, the trail of dark hair, the journey of tattoos, and a short scar that trailed along his side.

She leaned forward, her hair brushing against his skin. “Do you mind if I touch them? Your tattoos?”

His throat bobbed, his laugh tight. “You can do anything you like. I’m yours for tonight.”

He pressed a light kiss to her cheek, tracing a line. ‘You’re one hell of a specimen, Olivia.”

---