Page 126 of Billionaire Romance

“It won’t, Sinclair. It won’t.”

We go slow that night. All night, neither of us rushed. We want to take our time, enjoy every inch of one another. And when we finally finish—when I’ve finally made her come enough times that I feel satisfied finishing myself, and letting her lick my cock until it’s clean and we’re both breathless from the pleasure—she lies across my chest, arms draped around me, eyes shut. Perfectly trusting.

I don’t fall asleep, though. Not right away. I stay up, listening to the sound of her breathing as it slows. Running my hands through her hair and wondering how on earth I got so lucky. Wanting to do anything to keep her happy, to keep her safe. To keep her with me.

Eventually I must fall asleep after all, because I wake up to the dawn light creeping through my windows, and Sinclair still wrapped in my arms, her head pillowed against my chest, her breathing slow and even. I smile and gently roll her to the side, then slip under the covers I pulled up over us last night.

I kiss my way down the flat plane of her belly, lower. I move until my mouth is against her mound, and kiss her softly, slowly. Lower, lower. I part her thighs gently and run my tongue along the crease of each leg, one after the next. She shivers and lets out a sigh of pleasure in her sleep. I smile and run my tongue along the lips of her pussy, slowly parting them with my tongue, before I press it fully along her slit.

She moans a little louder and shifts against the bed.

I keep watching her, even as I drag my tongue along her length, up to her clit, which I gently run the flat blade of my tongue along, pressing just hard enough to make her moan again. Her eyelids flutter. She shifts a little, confused, and glances down to find me between her thighs. Her eyes go wide, her eyebrows rising… And then she reaches down to run her hands through my hair, smiling.

I press my tongue between her folds again, and push the tip into her entrance, making her moan last just a shade longer. She parts her legs, and I slide one hand beneath her to lift her ass, pulling her hips against my face.

She tightens her hands in my hair, bucking against me as I tongue her over and over. It doesn’t take long before she’s crying out my name, her whole body arched against the sheets. I keep tonguing her clit, as her toes curl and her body trembles with the force of the orgasm.

After, I kiss my way back up along the gorgeous, perfect expanse of her body, until my mouth finds hers. I kiss her again, hard and deep, knowing she can taste her juices on my mouth. She tastes so fucking good. When we break apart, I grin.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Mm…” She shifts a little, reaching up to hook her arms around my shoulders. “Can you wake me up like that every morning, please?” she murmurs, laughing a little.

With a smile, I lean in to kiss her again, harder. “Every morning for the rest of our lives,” I promise when we break apart. The smile I get in return is enough to keep me going for a long, long time. “But there’s one more thing.” I wink, and leave her staring after me in confusion, still piled under the covers of our bed.

After a few minutes, she calls from the bedroom, “Am I supposed to stay here?”

“Just be patient,” I respond from the kitchen. It takes a little longer than I intend, truth be told. It’s been a while since I’ve tried to cook anything for myself—one of the benefits of being first rich, and then working as a swim instructor at a resort where board was included. But I still remember one dish, which one of my nannies taught me as a child, saying I’d need it at some point.

It takes a couple of tries, by which point Sinclair has probably guessed what I’m doing, to judge by the distant laughter from the bedroom. But eventually I get it right. I fill the breakfast tray I’ve had lying around for years, completely unused, with the pancakes I’ve just made. I add a little flower to the corner—the kind of flowers I’ve been bringing home for her every few days, just a little reminder of Maui.

Passion flowers, of course.

Then I add coffee, and bring the tray in to her, lying it across her lap as she stares at me over the top of the book she picked up to read while she was waiting.

“Okay, seriously.” She’s smirking. “What’s the occasion? Why are you spoiling me?”

“Because I want to,” I reply, dropping into the bed beside her and stealing her fork to take a bite of the pancake. I lean in and kiss her cheek quickly. “And because you deserve to be spoiled like this. Every day of your life.”

She eyes me, one eyebrow lifted. “Are you agreeing to make breakfast every day of our lives?”

“Okay, maybe not exactly like this, but…”

She laughs and takes a bite, then nods.

“Good?” I ask, my eyebrows rising.

“Fantastic,” she murmurs, and leans in to kiss me, her lips tasting like butter and syrup. Then I kiss her back, and we both forget about breakfast for a while.

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