Page 56 of Sexting the Billionaire

"Now?" She arches an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up in that way that makes something twist pleasantly in my chest.

"Close enough." I refill her glass, enjoying the soft sigh she makes as she takes the first sip.

We're halfway through some art film she insisted I needed to see—something French with too many existential crises andnot enough plot—but I stopped watching twenty minutes ago. Cassie's far more captivating, especially when she's like this: relaxed, uninhibited, laughing at scenes she finds particularly pretentious.

"You're not watching," she accuses, catching my gaze.

"I'm watching something better."

She rolls her eyes but can't quite hide her smile. "That line is beneath you, Roman Kade."

"And yet it worked." I pull her closer, the warmth of her body against mine now as familiar as it is intoxicating. "Your cheeks are pink."

"It's the wine," she lies, setting her glass down.

"It's definitely not the wine." I trace the flush spreading down her neck with my finger, watching her pupils dilate. "Just like it wasn't the wine yesterday. Or the day before."

"You're extremely sure of yourself, has anyone ever told you that?" She shifts to straddle me in one fluid movement that sends my brain temporarily offline.

"Several people. Usually right before they fire me." I settle my hands on her hips, enjoying the weight of her above me. "But you say it with much more interesting context."

She laughs, the sound dissolving into something sexier as I pull her forward for a kiss. The movie drones on forgotten as her fingers thread through my hair, her body pressed deliciously against mine.

This is what addiction must feel like, I think hazily as her mouth moves to my neck—this constant, insatiable need for more. More of her laugh, her scent, her mind, her body. Even now, with her warm and willing in my arms, I want more than I should.

"I can hear you thinking," she murmurs against my skin. "Stop it."

"Make me," I challenge, earning a nip at my collarbone that makes my dick swell.

She sits back, eyes glittering with mischief. "Is that how we're playing tonight?"

"I'm open to negotiations," I say, my hands sliding under the borrowed shirt to find bare skin. "The terms are flexible."

"Are they?" She rocks against me deliberately, drawing a groan from deep in my chest. "Because some things feel very... inflexible at the moment."

Christ, she's going to be the death of me.

I stand in one fluid motion, lifting her with me. Her legs wrap around my waist automatically, her surprised laugh vibrating against my mouth as I carry her toward the bedroom.

"The movie—" she protests half-heartedly.

"Will be just as pretentious tomorrow." I kick the bedroom door shut behind us, laying her on the bed with more care than I'll ever admit to. "Right now, I have more pressing matters to attend to."

"More pressing, hmm?" She pulls me down to her, the teasing glint in her eyes softening to something warmer. "Show me."

I capture her mouth with mine, no longer playful but hungry, demanding. She responds instantly, her body arching up to meet mine, her hands already working to rid me of my shirt. I help her, yanking it over my head before returning to the kiss, deeper now, our tongues tangling in a familiar dance that still somehow feels new every time.

"Off," I command, tugging at the shirt she's wearing—my shirt—suddenly desperate to feel her skin against mine.

She sits up just enough to let me pull it over her head, then lies back, gloriously naked and completely unselfconscious. The sight of her like this—trusting, wanting, her eyes dark withdesire—sends a surge of heat through me so intense it's almost painful.

"You're staring again," she murmurs, a flush spreading from her cheeks down her neck to her chest.

"I like looking at you." I trail my fingers down her throat, between her breasts, watching her pupils dilate further. "I like how your skin flushes when I do this." I brush my thumb across her nipple, feeling it harden instantly. "And this." I replace my thumb with my mouth, drawing a sharp gasp from her. "And especially this."

My hand slides lower, crossing the flat plane of her stomach to the heat between her legs. She's already wet for me, her body responding to my touch with an honesty that's more arousing than any words.

"Roman," she whispers, her legs falling open in invitation. "Please."

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