Page 90 of Beauty and the Billionaire Boss

“Because Alex would make me into a eunuch.”

“That’s bullshit. He wouldn’t care as long as you treated her right.”

“Therein lies the problem.”

“Yeah, because you’re such a bad boy. I know you’ve cultivated your lady-killer reputation because you think it’ll keep your heart safe. But you can’t keep it padlocked away for the rest of your life.”

“Just watch me,” I mumble, trying not to watch as Freddie offers Belle a spoonful of Tiramisu. This time, she shakes her head and says no thank you, although she tempers it with a smile. Thank God. If she’d accepted, I would’ve had to leap over the tables and strangle the guy with my bare hands. Or get Henry to do it.

When she’s finished her dessert, Belle rises, and I watch her make her way out of the restaurant, where she disappears along the corridor, presumably to the Ladies. As casually as I can, I finish my chocolate profiterole, wipe my mouth, then excuse myself, and follow her out.

I walk along the corridor and lean on the wall in the small lobby opposite the bathrooms. I only have to wait a few minutes before she comes out. She sees me immediately, and her eyes widen.

I gesture with my head for her to follow me, and take her around the corner, finding a quiet spot between the reception desk and the elevators, in a nook partially hidden behind a rubber plant.

She leans back against the wall, looking up at me, and I stand in front of her, flicking back the sides of my jacket and sliding my hands into the pockets of my trousers.

“Enjoying yourself?” I ask.

Her lips twitch. “He has a motorbike,” she says.

“Great.”

“He’s asked me if I’d like to go with him to see Paua of One next week.” It’s a famous Kiwi band.

I move closer to her, looking at the beautiful curve of her Cupid’s bow. She’s not mine. I have no right to these feelings. But I’m consumed by jealousy at the thought of him touching her.

“Are you going to let him make you come with his fingers?” I ask, my voice little more than a growl.

I wait for her to say what Rachel or most other girls would have said:I can do what I like, orI don’t belong to you, ormind your own business.

Instead, Belle looks into my eyes and says, “You know that’s your prerogative, Damon.” She tips her head to the side, looking at my mouth. She’s thinking of kissing me. “You gave me my name. You claimed me, all those years ago. I’ve always belonged to you.” She lifts her gaze to mine again and smiles.

“What are you doing?” I murmur clumsily, conscious of her mesmerizing voice and eyes, turning on the magic.

“Seducing you. Is it working?”

The space between us seems to sparkle with electricity. “A little bit,” I mumble.

“You sound reluctant,” she whispers. “Don’t you want me, Damon?” She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Don’t you want to see what I look like naked?” She takes my lapels in her hands. “Don’t you want to know what I taste like? To make me come with your tongue?” She closes the gap between us, her mouth inches from mine. “To feel me clench around you while you’re inside me?”

I have no words, only actions to show her how I feel. So I lift my hands and slide them into her hair, which is as soft as I knew it would be. My fingers slipping through her silky locks, I crush my lips to hers.

She moans against my mouth, which is so sexy that I’m hard instantly, and I press her up against the wall so she can feel it, while I plunge my tongue into her mouth. I didn’t mean to do this; I do my best not to be forceful with women, but it’s impossible to rein in my passion as it flares from a spark into a forest fire, sweeping over us and igniting us both.

Her hands slide beneath my jacket and around my waist, and I feel her nails score my back lightly over the thin cotton of my shirt. I shudder, and she sighs against my lips, her breath whispering over them.

I lift my head, and we stand there like that for a moment, our lips a fraction of an inch apart, our bodies touching, locked in an embrace neither of us wants to break.

“After the meal,” I tell her, my voice gruff with desire, “I want you to come to my room.”

She nods, her eyes alight with pleasure. “What number?”

“Forty-two.”

“The secret to life, the universe, and everything?” she teases. She’s quoting fromThe Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

“Damn straight.”

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