Page 39 of Portrait of a Protective Billionaire

Yet.

I squeal into my pillow. Evan Blackburn, with me. I bound out of bed, feeling the weight of misery off my shoulders for once as I go find Evan. He isn't in, but a dainty, cute bouquet of daisies was placed in a gorgeous, round vase. A little note was attached.

Good morning, Isabella. I had to go to work today, but I'll be coming home early. I'll see you soon. <3

I chuckle at how formal it is, but my eyes linger on the heart much longer than I like to admit. I pick up the bouquet and bring it close to my nose. They almost feel like paintbrush bristles tickling my face. It smells wonderful, like the outside, the park.

I start to move the vase to the room…or I was planning to, but stop. Which room do I put it in? I don't want to be presumptuous and suddenly start moving in. We were testing the waters last night. Goodness, that was the most comfortable sleep I had in forever. I went out like a light and didn't remember when I closed my eyes. I snap back into reality. I decided to put the flowers in my room.

The day turns into waiting for Evan to come back. I can't breathe without getting a chill of anxiety. Why is this so awkward? It's like the day after you and your crush confess to each other over text and don't know what to do when you see each other at school.

Except it is in real life, and you both live together. I can't focus on anything for long and take turns painting, watching TV, pacing, and people-watching from the balcony. I don't know how early he will get home, so it's only a guessing game of when.

The soles of my feet are beginning to hurt, so I sit down. I stare at the painting I started this morning out of impulse. It was Evan; of course, it was. I pick up my brush. One more painting for the auction wouldn't hurt. It's closer now, only two months. I'll have to watch how it goes from home, but I wish I could be there. After that park incident, I doubt Evan will let me near the door again.

Click!

He's home. I continue painting. There's no reason to make myself come across as impatient or like I was waiting for him all day. He's quiet as he enters. I hear him putting his things down and strolling over to me until I feel his presence on my back. His hands are on either side of my stool.

"Is that me?" he asks. Again, with the whispering in my ear. It took me a second to realize he asked me a question.

"Mhm," I hum.

I feel a kiss being pressed against my neck; more followed down to its base. My breathing hitches, and I freeze.

"Keep painting," he instructs. So I do, well, at least I try to. It's hard to keep myself from falling off the stool as he switches sides and sucks at my skin, purpling it to match the other side of my neck.

The yearning between my legs is intense now, and I can't focus my energy on art when I have the sexiest man alive planting kisses all over me. I spin around on my stool and grab his face, connecting his kiss with my lips.

He isn't reluctant about the change of pace. No more fervent pecks across my shoulders but a slow, passionate, and hot kiss. He grabs my thighs and wraps them around his waist, hoisting me up.

Conveniently, he places his hands on my ass to keep me in place. I am done waiting. I begin to unbutton his shirt, but he breaks the kiss.

"Isabella, wait. I don’t want to hurt the baby,” he says between shaky breaths. I can already feel him poking through my pants.

“You’re not,” I assure. His eyebrows are still knitted together in worry, like he doesn't believe he'll be gentle enough. I lower myself onto the floor and place my hands on his shoulders, "If you're that worried about the baby, we don't have to do this right now," I begin, a slick grin spread on my face, "but that doesn't mean you have to go to bed withthis," I massage the tent in his pants, making him buckle and grab onto the stool for support.

Being able to make the stoic and headstrong man whimper under my touch is mind-blowing. I glance up at him as I pull out his member; his face is dusted with pink, eyes closed, and mouth slightly parted. I could get used to him making that face.

I replace my hand with my lips, and the man immediately shivers at my hot breath. I haven't done this in years, but I think I'll do a pretty good job, given that Evan also hasn't experienced this in years. I'm so hungry for him. My tongue teases around the rim of his head, and then I lick down his unit, getting it slick for my mouth to slide over and down as far as my jaw allows.

I circle my tongue around his head while bobbing up and down his beautiful, hardened cock with my warm wet mouth...sliding it all the way to my throat. My hand strokes him, following my mouth's movement. The strokes get faster because I get hungrier, stroking and sucking...stroking and sucking...

His eyebrows come together again, and his eyes open to reveal glossy, unfocused pupils trying to find my face. His fingers comb my hair until I hear a pleasured hiss.

"Isabella..." My name being said in his quivering voice almost makes me pass out. "I'm close." He isn't lying; barely a couple of seconds later, he convulses, hips thrusting into my jaw, and I swallow. Evan pulls me up to my feet and shares another kiss with me.

The ambiance in Evan's penthouse is ethereal, with soft candlelight casting gentle flickers on the walls. The soothing notes of a piano concerto waft through the air, deepening the romantic mood. I'm sitting on the edge of his bed, my hands resting on the soft curve of my pregnant belly.

Evan approaches. His gaze is intense but full of tenderness. "You're absolutely radiant," he murmurs, his eyes flitting from my face to my belly.

A bashful smile creeps onto my lips, and I respond, "It's not every day one gets to be in this state."

He gently kneels before me, and I gasp, a touch startled by the unexpected vulnerability in the power dynamic shift. He looks up, seeking my approval, his eyes a deep pool of desire and commitment. I nod, granting him silent permission.

Evan places tender kisses on my thighs, working his way upward. His every touch is filled with reverence, making me feel both cherished and desired. The world fades away, and there's only Evan and me, two souls deeply connected in this intimate moment.

His warmth envelopes me, and I lean back, losing myself in the flood of sensations. Every touch and caress is heightened. Every tingle indicates there is a tremendous release about to happen. I grab the sheets, arch my back, and my breath quickens, matching the rhythm of the music. He pleases me many times over. I feel adored and worshipped, and my heart swells with emotion.

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