Page 77 of Sexting the Billionaire

"That for the first time since that accidental text, I don't feel like we're playing a game." I trace the line of his jaw with my finger. "No more strategies. No more calculated moves. Just us."

He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "All cards on the table," he agrees. "Finally."

And as the first light of morning filters through my bedroom window, I realize something that both terrifies and exhilarates me: I'm falling in love with Roman Kade. Not the CEO, not the powerful businessman, but the man who makes coffee exactly how I like it. Who notices when I forget to eat. Who sees all of me and wants more, not less.

It's too soon to say the words—we've only just admitted there's something real between us—but they're there, waiting for the right moment.

For now, I curl against him, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull me back toward sleep, content in the knowledge that whatever comes next, we'll face it together. Equal partners. In business, in pleasure, and in whatever this new relationship becomes.

17

CASSIE

WALLS COMING DOWN

Iwake to sunlight on my face and Roman's arm draped possessively across my waist.

For a moment, I savor the sensation—the warmth of his body against mine, the soft sound of his breathing, the knowledge that for once, neither of us is rushing to maintain our careful charade.

A week into our official relationship I'm still adjusting to this new reality where I don't have to pretend I'm not falling for my boss. Don't have to sneak out before dawn or invent excuses for late-night meetings. The freedom is intoxicating—and terrifying.

I shift slightly, trying not to wake him as I study his sleeping face. Roman looks younger like this, the perpetual crease between his brows smoothed away, his mouth relaxed from its usual controlled expression. Vulnerable in a way the CEO of Elysian would never allow himself to appear in public.

"You're staring again," he murmurs without opening his eyes, voice rough with sleep.

"I'm observing," I correct him, tracing the line of his jaw with my finger. "There's a distinction."

"Is there?" His eyes open, startlingly blue against the white of his pillow. "And what exactly are you observing, Ms. Monroe?"

"That the great Roman Kade drools in his sleep." I grin as he reaches up to wipe his mouth self-consciously. "And snores. Just a little."

"I do not snore." He pulls me closer, hand sliding down my spine with deliberate intent. "And this is slander before coffee. Punishable by law."

"What's the sentence?" I ask, my breath catching as his hand finds the curve of my ass and he squeezes possessively, pressing his growing erection to my core.

"I haven't decided yet." His eyes darken with a hunger that sends heat pooling low in my belly. "But it will be lengthy and thoroughly... exhaustive."

He shifts, rolling me beneath him in one fluid movement that speaks to how well we've learned each other's bodies in the past weeks. His mouth finds mine in a kiss that starts lazy but quickly turns urgent, his hands threading through my hair, tugging lightly, his weight a delicious pressure pinning me to the mattress.

I respond with equal fervor, my body already conditioned to want him with an intensity that would be embarrassing if it weren't so perfectly matched. My hands slide down his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath my fingers as he moves against me.

"Good morning to you too," I gasp when he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my throat.

"Mmm," he agrees, his stubble creating a delicious friction against my sensitive skin. "Though I believe we were discussing your punishment."

"Were we? I was under the impression this was a reward."

His laugh vibrates against my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. "Always so quick with the comebacks."

"You like that about me," I remind him, arching to press more fully against him.

"I like everything about you," he admits, the simple honesty in his voice catching me off guard. "Even the parts that drive me crazy."

"Especially those parts," I tease, trying to lighten the sudden weight of his words.

But Roman isn't having it. He pulls back slightly, his expression serious as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. "Especially those parts," he agrees softly. "The parts no one else gets to see."

The tenderness in his gaze makes something twist in my chest—something dangerously close to the L-word we've both been carefully avoiding. We're too new, too fragile for declarations that heavy.

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