Page 73 of Rival to the Billionaire

I tilt my head and press my lips against his, tasting him briefly and loving the way his flavor feels on my tongue. "Come here," I whisper.

He rolls me onto my back and settles between my legs, his body stroking against mine, his soft lips finding mine. He brushes my hair back from my face and gazes into my eyes.

"You look beautiful," he whispers. "I want you," he says, his breath coming quick and shallow. "I want to see you. Will you let me see you?"

"I will," I whisper, running my fingers across his lips, tracing the bow they create. "Anything."

He grins, holding his body against mine, and I feel so small, so tiny beneath all of him. Being so close like this to Ryder, I can’t help but feel anything but unfiltered joy.

Especially when he reaches for my sleeping shorts and pulls them off my legs, off my body, and in an instant, I'm rendered naked. Completely bare beneath his gaze. I bite my lip and try to not squirm, but it's impossible.

His eyes are on me. On every part of me. All of me.

"You're a fucking feast, Jenny,” he says, running a hand up the inside of my thigh. "I love the way your skin feels. I love it when you're this close. I love the way you smell. I love everything about you. Everything."

"You can't even see my face," I whisper, feeling my cheeks burning. "I'm-I'm naked."

"I can see you. In my mind. With my eyes closed, I promise. I've been dreaming about you like this for longer than I can remember."

"When did you become so romantic?" I grin.

"I blame you. I blame you for everything that's happened here. For me finding you. For me dreaming about you. For me falling for you. I blame you for it all."

He speeds up his caress, bringing it up my thigh, over my hip, and across my belly, blazing a fiery trail that leaves a smoke-filled wake. I push my hands through my hair, trying to get a grip, trying to concentrate on breathing slowly and deeply, but it's increasingly difficult when he's caressing me like this. Caressing me like he's seen me, caressing me like I am everything.

When he bends down to kiss my lips, I welcome it, feeling the soft, bare lips of Ryder Anderson pressing against mine, and feeling his thumb pressing against the inside of my thigh. And the sensation makes me shiver, sends a chill up my spine, making me feel strange and daring, and utterly free.

His hands move to land on my knees, pushing them up. His fingers caress the insides of my legs, pushing further, grazing places where I've never been touched.

I gasp, arching my back. Melting into his hands as they stroke my wetness slowly.

"You like that, do you?" he asks, his voice low.

"I like that a lot," I purr. "I like it a lot more than I expected to."

"Good. If you like that, you'll love this."

And he continues his gentle ministrations, pressing his fingers against me, skimming across a new place, and making me groan. Especially when I close my eyes and suddenly something damp and tender presses against me.

My body jerks off the bed.

"What's that?" I ask, my voice sharp with shock.

"It's called a tongue, darling," he whispers. "Get used to it."

And it feels amazing, making me gasp and shudder and bite my lip.

"What does it—I mean, what do I feel like?"

"You feel wet, Jenny. Like my mouth. You feel hot. You feel—God, it feels like you're practically on fire."

I throw my arm over my eyes.

This can't be real.

I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes closed. The sensation is unreal. Like I'm burning from the inside out. Like I'm alive for the first time in my life. And suddenly, I wonder how I ever lived without this.

I reach down to cup my breast in my hand, to see it glistening between my fingers. I squeeze, loving the way it feels, the way it feels when Ryder's mouth touches it. When Ryder's lips kiss it. When his tongue licks it.

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