Page 21 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

Our lips meet like they’ve been waiting for permission.

It’s not a soft kiss. Not hesitant. It’s slow but firm, a claiming of something that’s been simmering for days now, ever since I mistook his suitcase for mine.

He groans into my mouth, one hand sliding behind my neck, the other gripping my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. I press closer, threading my fingers into his hair, gasping as he deepens the kiss, his mouth moving against mine like he’s unraveling me on purpose.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together, the air thick and heavy with what we’ve just crossed into.

“Ivy,” he murmurs hoarsely. “This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

But I already know it does.

Because I’ve never kissed someone like this—someone who makes the whole damn world fall away.

I pull back just far enough to look at him. “I know. But right now… I want this. I want you.”

Carter doesn’t move for a beat. Then, he nods—like he’s made peace with something inside himself—and leans in again, his mouth finding mine with even more urgency.

We lose ourselves after that.

The blanket falls to the floor.

His hands are everywhere—gripping my thighs, sliding under my shirt, pushing it up, bunching the fabric just beneath my arms until I lift them and let him pull it off entirely.

My bra follows, unclasped and tossed aside like he’s been waiting to do that since the moment we met.

He groans when he sees me—eyes dark, greedy, starved.

He lowers his mouth, dragging his tongue over my nipple, teasing it until it’s tight and aching. His other hand cups my other breast, fingers rolling over the peak until I’m arching into him, moaning shamelessly.

“Fuck, you’re unreal,” he breathes against my neck, his voice ragged with need. The heat of his breath sends a shiver racing down my spine. “I’ve thought about this—about you—more times than I should’ve. And now that I have you… I’m not holding back.”

“Then stop thinking,” I breathe, grabbing his face and kissing him again, rougher this time. “And do something about it.”

That’s all it takes. The restraint breaks and he lifts me off the couch like I weigh nothing, laying me down beneath him. He impatiently pulls off my donut-themed pajama shorts in one swift motion, taking my panties with them.

His mouth follows, dragging down my body in a trail of fire—nipping, kissing, tasting until he’s between my thighs, and I’m already shaking.

He spreads me open with his thumbs, eyes locked on mine as he leans in and licks a slow, firm stripe right up my center.

I gasp, hips bucking. But his hands are on my thighs, holding me in place, his tongue working me with long, deliberate strokes. He circles my clit, slow at first, then faster, sucking just enough to send sparks through my entire body.

I grip the couch cushions, moaning louder than I mean to. “Carter… please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust.

When I come, it’s with a cry so sharp it echoes through the bungalow, my legs trembling as he keeps his mouth on me, drawing it out, licking me through every wave until I’m gasping his name.

He kisses his way back up my body eyes filled with desire.

“You taste like donuts,” he murmurs, taking aim at my pajama shorts.

Ugh! Why did I wear those shorts tonight? After a nice dinner, I could have tried a little harder.

“Are you seriously trying to make a joke right now?” I reach down and wrap my hand around his length, and my breath hitches at how hard, long, and thick he is—veins pulsing, the head already glistening with arousal. His jaw clenches as I stroke him, slow at first, then firmer. He hisses through his teeth, eyes fluttering shut for half a second.

“You keep doing that, and I’m not gonna last,” he growls.

“I don’t want you to last,” I whisper. “I want you inside me. Now.”

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