Page 54 of Owned By a Billionaire

I found her propped up in bed, reading and wearing one of her lacy negligees. Now, if ever I needed an erotic image, there it was before me—Caroline, her full breasts barely covered by white lace, her thick raven hair loose, engrossed in Proust.

For some men, it was porn. For me, it was Caroline in lace holding a doorstopper of a novel.

“I wish I could photograph you,” I said, undoing my cravat.

She peered over her reading glasses and then removed them. “I thought you might have headed out.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“You humiliated me.” Intense and piercing, her unblinking stare held me captive.

I removed my jacket. “Oh, Caroline, please. We’re grown-ups. I couldn’t exactly push the girl away.”

“You were talking for a half an hour. And people noticed.”

When I stripped down to my briefs, her focus left my face and headed down to my groin, which might as well have been her hands caressing my shaft because it thickened in anticipation.

“Do you want me to sleep in the guest room?” I asked.

“No. In bed. Now.”

I removed my briefs and smiled as she gazed down at my growing erection. Climbing into bed, I met her gaze. “You’re delectable.”

Her eyes softened a little as I slid my hands over her arm to the nape of her neck.

“If you do that to me again, Cary, this time will be our last.”

“I promise not to talk to young, busty blondes again.”

Her frown deepened, and before she could respond, I added, “I prefer busty brunettes with a penchant for bedridden French writers.”

Her chuckle inspired me to go on. “Caroline, why would I be with someone like her when I have you? No one compares.”

Before she could respond, I buried my head between her thighs and showed her just how much she meant to me.

“Remindmewhywe’rehere?” I asked. “Not that I mind seeing you all gowned up. You look ravishing.” I kissed Caroline’s hand, and her lips curled slightly.

She suddenly looked quite uneasy in Elysium’s impressive ballroom, surrounded by groups of rowdy East Europeans. It was Crisp’s wedding, and the guests, who had apparently made their fortunes in questionable ways, were part of the bride’s party.

The bridesmaids looked like they’d come from a Barbie convention, all clad in bright pink. Their sculptured hairdos, just like the famous doll’s, gleamed under the chandeliers. Their make-up was so thick one could almost peel it off.

Meanwhile, the men huddled together, and when they weren’t forcing out chuckles, they scowled.

“If a war were to break out, one would want that lot on your side,” I said of the group of tall, burly men in badly fitted suits, sporting hair styles worn by World War I soldiers.

“Quite.” Caroline sighed.

I took her hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just not used to a function of this nature. Not here at Elysium, at least. And in answer to your earlier question, Rey made me come. It is his wedding, after all.”

I was about to say something when a piercing scream split the air, grabbing my attention. It appeared that the woman’s over-the-top reaction was directed at the bride’s large diamond and not some kind of imminent danger.

A server swung by with a tray of champagne, and following Caroline’s lead, I took a glass. The bubbles tickled my nose as I took a sip. “At least the bubbly’s top shelf.”

Some man came over and whispered to Caroline, and she side-eyed me with one of those stares that spoke of disinterest. Being well-versed in niceties, she put on a fake smile, and there it remained as the voluble guest filled her ear with a lot of words.

After he left, I joined her again. “Some lord?”

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