Page 16 of Secret Baby for a Damaged Billionaire

And then it comes, in a swift motion of strength and desperation. His hand reaches around my neck as his fingers move into my hair, gripping and tilting my head back. I grab hold of his biceps to steady myself as his lips meet mine in a searing, passionate kiss, leaving me breathless.

His mouth searches mine, as he pulls me close, intoxicating me with his strong hold and his alluring masculine scent. Our earlier laughter is forgotten as we lose ourselves in each other, irresistibly drawn together despite our glaring differences.

I pull away, heart racing, and look up into his striking blue eyes. “I have to tell you something,” I whisper, unable to tear my gaze from his.

“Anything,” he replies, his voice husky.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” I confess, laying my feelings bare. “Since I first met you, I wanted more. I can’t explain it.” The feel of his breath on my lips makes me crazy.

Lucas studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if looking for something hidden within. He finally leans in, kissing me again, opening my lips with his, exploring me with his tongue. His hands cradle my face, thumbs brushing against my cheeks. My heart races, and I can’t help but think that there’s something deeper behind this kiss—something he’s not saying.

“Emily,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling back just enough so our lips barely touch. “I’m not good with words, but….”

“It’s okay,” I say softly, quieting him with my lips.

He hesitates for a heartbeat, then nods, giving in to the desire that’s been building between us. As we continue kissing, our bodies pressed tightly together, he guides me back toward the couch. Our movements are slow and deliberate, each touch sending shivers down my spine.

We sink into the cushions, our bodies tangled, our mouths never breaking contact. I feel an overwhelming need to be close to him, to know every inch of his body, to see the man behind the hardened exterior. He seems to sense it too, his hands exploring my curves, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice thick with desire. “I don’t want to get you into any trouble with Chloe.” He smirks, but his eyes hold sincerity.

“Lucas,” I reply, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

In that instant, any remaining barriers between us crumble away. We lose ourselves in each other, as our clothes come off and he slides me beneath him. He kisses me further, then moves down, exploring my breasts with his mouth, teasing my nipples with his tongue, sending my arousal through the roof.

Feeling his muscles rippling beneath my touch, I let out a gasp as he enters me, thrusting his force into me as his eyes hold mine, unblinking. Every nerve in my body explodes from the feel of him, causing a surge of intensity to wash over me. He lets out a groan from deep within, sending me higher, and as we become one in our intimate connection, the world erupts and shifts, settling into new possibilities.

The rhythmic pounding of fists on heavy bags and the grunts of exertion reverberate through the gym, a stark reminder of the moment we’ve just shared. Lucas’s breath is warm against my skin as he pulls away from me, his eyes searching mine.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath as the sound of a sharp whistle pierces the air. He knows he’s needed out there, but I can’t help the pang of uncertainty that shoots through me as he hastily zips his pants, eyes darting toward the door.

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching my expression. He leans in, pressing a sweet, reassuring kiss to my lips. “Don’t overthink it. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right back.”

With one last lingering look, he slips out of the office, leaving me to bask in the afterglow of our intimacy. The sounds of the gym continue to filter through the walls, but they’re nothing compared to the raw memories of our passionate encounter. I replay the moans Lucas tried so hard to muffle, feeling his body spasm over mine again as my name passed his quivering lips, and heat rises in my cheeks.

As reality slowly seeps back in, I reach for my phone. My heart sinks when I see a text from the client we spoke with earlier—they’re having second thoughts about the deal already. On top of that, there are several messages from Chloe, each more frantic than the last, wondering why neither Lucas nor I have been responding to her texts.

“Damn it,” I whisper, torn between frustration and annoyance. I know I need to address the client’s concerns, but at the same time, I can’t ignore my best friend’s panic.

I quickly type out a response to Chloe, assuring her that everything is fine and promising to call her soon, guilt hidden beneath each letter. Then, taking a deep breath, I turn my attention to the client’s message, preparing to put out some fires.

But all the while, the one thing that claims my true focus is the energy lingering in my muscles from Lucas’s body on mine.

Chapter Eight (Lucas)

I slam the door to my office, a surge of frustration coursing through me. Negotiations with the Dubai deal are at a standstill, and I can’t seem to find a way around it. Walker Enterprises is reliant upon sealing this contract if I want my business to make a monumental global impact. My fighters deserve the opportunity to compete for world championship belts and are definitely good enough to crush the competition.

Emily looks up from her laptop, concern etched on her face. “Everything okay?” she asks.

My shoulders droop with defeat as I take stock of the wall of my office. The endless whiteboards contain mounds of sticky notes that I’ve written in an attempt to solve the problems plaguing me. There’s a hole in the wall where I threw a chair across my office last week during another failed brainstorming session. My tense staff is standing by but champing at the bit for action; they can smell that we’re on the brink of being knocked out of contention for next year’s championships.

“Everything’s falling apart,” I groan, the frustration surging like a tidal wave within me. My fingers sweep across my face, grating against the stubble on my chin, a futile attempt to scrub away the grit of worry and fatigue that has been torturing me these past few days.

It feels like I’m trying to put together a thousand-piece puzzle with half the pieces missing. The strategy, the training regimen, even the damn team chants—they all seem to be in shambles.

I can almost taste the disappointment as I visualize my team in Dubai, unprepared and disjointed, their dreams of victory evaporating. It’s a bitter pill to swallow and I feel its sting, a relentless throb at the back of my skull.

I make an effort to anchor myself, to find that inner calm that had always been my ally in the face of adversity. I can’t afford to let my temper spill over, to taint the air between us. Emily doesn’t deserve the backlash of my frustration, the collateral damage of my internal storm.

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