Page 86 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

He’s used to supermodels. Flawless bodies. That Jen bitch with her rock-hard abs.

What will he think when he sees me?

Will he be repulsed?

Will this whole fragile connection shatter the second he sees the reality of my post-baby body?

He gets the button undone, the zipper sliding down with a soft rasp. His fingers dip inside, brushing against the waistband of my panties. I flinch instinctively, trying to press myself back against the glass, wanting to hide.

But he seems to misunderstand my hesitation. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. His eyes blaze down at me with admiration.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, pressing his lips against mine.

I am?

“What a fucking sexy goddess you are,” he rasps. “Tell me you want it, Sabrina. Tell me you wantthis. Wantme.”

Do I?

Yes.

God, yes.

The memory of Vegas pulses through me, a dangerous, undeniable craving. But still, I’m hesitant.

“Leo, I…”

He cuts me off with another devastating kiss, one hand sliding down definitively, pushing past the lace of my panties, his fingers finding my core.

Wet.

Slick.

And ready.

He groans, a low, guttural sound against my lips. “Fuck, yes you do.”

His fingers dip inside me, just one, then two, stretching me slightly, moving with a confidence that steals my breath. It’s not the rough intrusion of Vegas, but it’s not tentative either. It’s possessive.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, how to make my body obey him.

I cry out, arching against his hand, against the cool glass at my back.

He pulls back from the kiss, breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine.

“Condom,” he bites out, the word sounding like a command issued to himself.

He breaks away for only a second, turning toward a low side table near the window. I watch breathlessly as he limps to the table and yanks open a drawer.

Of course he keeps them handy, scattered at strategic locations throughout his penthouse, probably.

He retrieves a small foil packet and rips it open with his teeth.

The momentary pause gives my panic a chance to resurface.

This is crazy.

He’s my client.

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