Page 56 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

How many orgasms had he given me? I’d lost count after two and the second was rather fuzzy. But I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t continued on even while I was sleeping.

My whole body was still buzzing.

And his cock was right there…and he was clearly still in need of relief. Since I’d fallen asleep before we’d even managed to have sex.

Just all the orgasms for me. I was one greedy, semi-satisfied—only because I still wanted more—bitch.

And I really had to pee.

As soundlessly as possible, I wiggled out of bed and realized I was still lacking clothes. No wonder my nipples were like skewers. Of course, watching him sleep didn’t help on that score.

His body was…unfair. Especially when paired with that face and that mobile mouth that curved into a smile so easily.

He couldn’t have been any less like the pompous dickhead if he tried.

I tiptoed around the bed into the gorgeously appointed bathroom, noting the slate-gray tiles edged in silver. Swanky indeed.

And man, was that a heated floor near the huge hot tub? It certainly seemed to be, motion activated no less. No cold feet in the morning in here.

Hmm, I’d have to add that to my notes for Dex’s bathroom. He’d seemed open-minded design-wise, and that was certainly a nice feature to have.

Especially if you hope to be spending time in his bathroom—and in his bed, you hussy.

I mean, we hadn’t even gotten to the main event, so of course I was still curious. Who could blame me after that orgasm appetizer?

Quickly, I used the facilities and had just finished washing my hands—and trying to finger-comb my currently messy hair—when a soft knock sounded at the door.

I stared at it, panicked. After sex talk with a man you barely knew was the worst.

When you hadn’t even made it to the sex before noping out…

“Just a minute,” I called, palming my suddenly overheated cheeks as I looked down at my naked body, attractively decorated with Dex’s five o’clock shadow marks and that lovely half bruise over the nipple he’d sucked so persistently.

My gaze as always went to my stretch marks. No hiding them either.

He’s seen everything already from all the angles.

My gaze landed on the overflowing courtesy basket of bath goods on the wicker stand beside the tub. Bubbles. Lots and lots of bubbles. I could talk to him if I didn’t have to face him completely nude first thing when I didn’t have a nice buzz in my bloodstream and orgasm anticipation.

Or hope. Orgasms were rare for me, so I didn’t exactly anticipate them on the regular.

Muttering to myself, I dumped in freesia-scented bubbles and turned the water on warm. I slipped inside with a whimper I couldn’t stifle.

He started knocking harder. “Shelby?”

Oh, God, maybe he had to use the bathroom.

I lathered up with some shampoo super-fast then used the handheld sprayer to rinse. After, I sank down deeper into the bubbles, swallowing the next moan that wanted to slip out as the fragrant warm water massaged my aching calves and feet.

Too much dancing. Out of practice.

I spotted a puffy eye mask in the toiletry basket and slipped it on, just in case he had to, well, use the facilities. With the loudness of the tub still filling with water, it would almost give him privacy. Almost.

“Come in,” I called, ducking down in the bubbles. When he didn’t enter right away, I shoved up my eye mask just in time to see him stroll in, comfortably naked.

He didn’t attempt to disguise his morning wood in the slightest. Hell, as he saw me in the tub, the damn thing practically saluted me. “I woke up and missed you.”

“Sorry?”

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