Page 8 of My Boss is a Billionaire

If I was a different man, I’d shut her down. Threaten her credibility by ruining her. Do what I came here to do and get back home.

But I plan to have my cake and eat it too. As they say, when in Rome…

I give her a wicked grin, and she blanches.

Looks like we both know she’s done for.

Chapter5

Liam

“How old are you?”

Her question catches me off guard. “Thirty-eight. How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Married?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I was.” Her eyes widen with the implication of that statement.

“You’re not going to ask me?”

I shake my head. “I’m making the assumption your answer would be the same.” I order a second bottle of wine. She’s letting her guard down now. She’s leaning in, giving me an excellent teasing glimpse of her cleavage. Her eyes sparkle in the soft light of the restaurant. Her lips are red and wet where she’s chewed and licked them.

“I should get home soon.” Her voice is low and sultry.

I raise an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

She empties her glass and holds it for a refill that I pour. I’m not trying to get her drunk, but I am enjoying her company, and I don’t want our evening to end.

“Because,” she says, her tone flirtatious. “Unless…” She trails off, and I’m mesmerized by the shape of her mouth, her lips as they clamp down on the rim as she takes another sip.

“Unless what?” I ask, my voice breathless, wondering how far she’ll go.

She smiles. “Unless you want to keep me out a little longer.”

Before I can think it through, I’ve hailed the waiter, signed off on the bill, and then I’ve got one hand tangled in the long locks of her hair, holding her head still while I devour her with a hungry kiss. With the other, I’m trying to get my key card to work. Finally, I hear a click and press down on the lever to open the door. Our combined weight pushes it open faster than I expected, and we tumble inside. I whip one arm around her waist, jerking her close, catching her before we fall.

Somehow we find our way inside, the door banging closed behind us. By the time we hit the edge of the bed, we’re both naked. My eyes adjust to the lack of light, and thankfully, I have the forethought to grab a condom from my wallet before I chuck my pants into the corner.

“I never do this,” she says, breathing in short pants while her soft hands scour my back.

“Do what? Have sex?” I pause, my fingers playing with her nipples, tugging them to elongated points. I nudge one leg between hers, my thigh brushing her bare pussy. Oh fuck. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

She laughs while still trying to kiss me. “No, you idiot. I meant I never have sex on the first date.”

“Is this a date?”

“You asked me to join you for a drink.”

“Oh, right. I did.” I push her slightly, and she flops back onto the bed. “I guess it’s time for a nightcap.”

The curtains are opened wide enough that a stream of light spills in, splitting the room into thirds, and she is in the middle, where I can see her, sort of. There’s a languid smile on her face. Her tits are more than a handful and real—I copped a grab while we were undressing, so I can confirm. In this lighting, I can’t tell if her nipples are pink, red, or brown. And I don’t care. I only care how they’ll taste. I let my eyes roam down her stomach, to her belly button, and below, to her spread thighs, her sex wet and ready for me. “You’re good with this, right?”

“Kinda late to ask, isn’t it?”

“It’s never too late, honey.”

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