Page 100 of Billionaire Romance

4

Sinclair

“Damn. Just when I think you can’t get any more attractive.” Ankor is grinning, watching me descend the stairs one at a time.

My gaze is locked on his, but my heart does a funny little flutter in my chest. I wore the only other dress I own, a simple tank dress with a striped pattern. Staring at myself in the mirror earlier, with my broad hat back on—safety first, even now—my only thought was of how underdressed I looked. How Ankor was probably going to take one look at me and decide he’d already had his fill.

But now, watching him watch me, and seeing the obvious hunger in his gaze, the way he tracks my every movement as I walk down those stairs, suddenly I feel like I’m wearing some expensive designer dress. I’m pretty sure he’d be staring at me just as avidly if I were.

It makes my belly tighten. Just the memory of earlier today, alone in that changing room, is enough to make my stomach somersault. I feel like I’ve just tripped over an extra step, judging by the swoop in my belly, and I have to grab onto the railing of the hotel grand staircase, just to be sure I didn’t.

But no. I’m still steady on my feet, shockingly.

It’s my head that’s a mess. Looking at him, all I can think about is how he looked when he knelt between my thighs, his mouth on my pussy, his tongue delving into me, licking at me like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. I hear the echo of his voice again, like a whisper against the nape of my neck. I’m going to make you scream so hard you’ll forget your own name.

You’re mine.

I remember the way his cock felt, buried deep in my pussy, making me moan and cry out with pleasure. I remember how his fingers felt spreading my pussy lips, caressing my swollen, aching clit. It makes my thighs tighten again now, as I reach the bottom of the staircase, and I clench them together, worried. I’m wearing underwear—panties, really, the only sexy pair I brought, more out of sheer necessity than any planning ahead. I’d packed whatever I could grab, when I—

Don’t think about that.

But I’m worried the sheer lacy fabric won’t be enough to contain me, if he makes me wet again. And god knows he’s good at doing that.

“Ankor,” I say, my voice trembling ever so slightly with anticipation.

“Sinclair.” My name in his mouth makes my veins thrill. He leans in and his lips graze my cheek, soft, gentlemanly. His hand, on the other hand, slips down to grip my ass in one tight fist, just hard enough to make me jump and gasp. I dart glances in both directions, but the entry hall to the hotel looks deserted, thankfully, so I doubt anyone witnessed that touch.

At any rate, he’s already moving, striding out through the double doors to the car waiting outside. “I figured we could go for a drive,” he says, as we cross out of the nice airconditioned hotel lobby and out into the heat of midday in Maui. “If you haven’t been around the island much yet, there are plenty of beautiful drives around the place. More than a few less crowded beaches worth a visit, too.”

“Sounds good,” I say, though I hesitate in the entryway when I notice him opening the passenger side door of a BMW. I frown. “Whose car is this?” I hope he isn’t borrowing some friend’s car just to impress me. Or worse, renting one. I don’t even want to think about how much it would cost to rent a car like this one.

“It’s mine,” he replies, easy and thoughtless. Then he glances over and catches me frowning, and something seems to close off in his expression.

“How did a resort swim instructor afford a car like this?” I ask with a light laugh, as he offers me a hand and guides me into the passenger seat. It’s a convertible, with leather seats no less. They creak as I slide into place, and he shuts my door before he moves around the front of the car to climb behind the wheel.

“Lucky break, I guess.” He smiles and turns the car on, reaching over to press a button. Automatically, the roof begins to fold back. As it does, he reaches over to slide one hand over my knee, the only exposed portion of my upper leg below the hem of my sun dress. He squeezes my knee gently, before he releases me with obvious reluctance to take hold of the gear shift instead. “I tend to get those a lot,” he says, with a pointed grin at me. “Present company being proof enough.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes a little. But underneath his easy flirting, I can tell I threw him off with my question. It makes me want to know more. What kind of a lucky break did he have, exactly?

But when he starts the car and veers us out onto the highway, I forget about my concerns. I’m too busy holding my hat down on my head—and getting my breath stolen away by this view. Fucking hell. He wasn’t kidding about Maui having beautiful… well, everything. Even the highways—at least the ones we’re taking—snake along the coastline, providing us stunning vistas of the Pacific Ocean, the white sand beaches far below. On the other side are mountains and rolling green hills, interspersed with jungles filled with trees and plants I’m not even sure I’d know the names of.

As we drive, he talks. He starts off asking me where I’m from, and about my family. But after I give single word answers to his questions—Charleston, only child, parents both dead—he senses that I don’t seem to want to talk about my history. Instead, we switch to the present.

He tells me all about the hotel’s history. Some eccentric wealthy mainland American who wanted to hide away from the world founded it almost a hundred years ago. He built it to be a self-contained paradise, a little hideout from the real world.

“It’s definitely working at that,” I tell him. “I already forgot reality exists.”

Ankor laughs at that. “Well, you’d be surprised. Paradise or not, it’s still a real life here. There are still concerns, things to keep in mind, daily problems…”

“Like old Ms. Humbolt hitting on you a little too forcefully?” I ask with a laugh.

“Or amazing, gorgeous new girls showing up to distract me,” he replies, with a long glance in my direction, his gaze searing hot.

I shiver a little, and not just from the breeze. “Am I a problem then?” I ask, my voice husky, more full of feeling than I expected. Considering I’ve only known Ankor for a day, it shouldn’t bother me too much how he thinks of me.

But his response, “More than you know,” in a low, throaty voice that makes my thighs clench again, and the pulse in between my legs start up again. To soften the blow, he reaches a hand over, and this time when he wraps his strong, muscular palm around my knee, he leaves it there, the heat of his hand searing against my skin.

My pussy is still a little sore from earlier, but it’s a good kind of sore, like my muscles after a long, satisfying workout. It tells me that everything we shared, everything that happened, was real.

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