Page 41 of Her Billion Dollar Groom

He winces, and I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake. “They’re not around anymore,” he says with a forced smile. “But they were. Proud of me. I think they never knew what to do with me, with how people treated me at school. I guess I wanted to make them proud of me. I wanted to do good for them.”

“Me too. With my parents, I mean. We didn’t have a whole lot growing up. All my life, my mom worked loads and so did my dad. We had all that we needed, but sometimes it was hard. Sometimes we couldn’t afford to do things like go on vacations or buy a house. That’s why I’m doing this for them. Because they’ve supported me through every second of my career. The least I can do is try and give some of it back to them now.”

“You’re a good person, Eliza,” he says with a blazing sincerity in his eyes, and it makes my breath catch in my throat.

“Stop it.” I look away, uncomfortable about the compliment, but he stands up and takes my hands.

“I really mean it, Eliza. You’re one of the best people I know. I always thought jobs and work were supposed to be serious things, not something to smile about. But you… you can do it all, can’t you? When I look at you, I feel like nothing is impossible.”

I swallow thickly, my eyes pricking with tears. “Now you’re just flattering me,” I say, my voice wobbly. “I’ve never met someone as genuinely good as you.”

He rolls his eyes at that, and I can see that my compliment is having the same effect on him as his is on me. It’s awkward for people like us who try so hard, to be told that we’re doing a good job in such an intimate way.

I don’t know about him, but I’m not used to that kind of attention. People expect the best from me, I’m not used to getting a thank you for it. Not like this.

“I think you might just be the best person I know, Jason Burroughs.”

Now his own eyes shine with tears. Slowly, he inches towards me, brushing his thumb over my cheek. I hold my breath as he leans in, looping my arms around his shoulders, his breath heavy as his lips brush against mine.

I don’t resist the kiss. How can I? How could I possibly want to?

He presses himself against me, his hands sliding down my back. I pull away from the kiss for a second to whisper into his ear, “Careful. I thought you were supposed to be at work.”

He groans, grinding his hips against me so I can feel exactly what he’s thinking about. “I can take a break for ten minutes, if you can.”

I flash a wicked grin at him. “I think we might be a little more than ten minutes.”

With that, I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him close again, grinding my own hips against his hardening length. Eventhrough our clothes, I can sense how much he wants me. My own need, my own wetness is growing just the same.

The kiss grows heavier, deeper, our teeth banging together as we explore each other’s mouths, lips and tongues colliding. All of a sudden, I’m breathless, helpless against the rush of lust that Jason has unlocked inside me. I need him, and I need him now.

Hands shaking, I undo enough buttons of his shirt to be able to pull it off over his head, baring his chest to me. I trace my fingers over his muscles for a second, then let our lips collide again, hungry and wanting.

And I do. I want him.

It’s not only the lust speaking. It’s not just my desperate wetness aching for him inside me. It’s my throbbing heart. Every time our lips lock, my heart opens a little more for him.

He pushes the skirt of my dress up to my hips, and his fingers dance in the waistband of my underwear. All I can do is grip his shoulders as he pushes my underwear aside. His fingers are nimble as they find their perfect target, bringing me closer and closer to climax.

I shout out when I come, my fingernails digging into his shoulders, leaving tiny red crescents.

I’ll kiss them better later.

Once I come down from heaven and my legs stop trembling, I start clawing at him. “Jason, I need you now, please. I need more. I need you.”

He growls under his breath, unbuckling his pants and dropping them to the floor. He lunges toward me again, grabbing my waist, my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the desk and pushingmy skirt out of the way. His lips linger on my throat, and I whine as his length presses against my entrance, his hands making their way to my breasts. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I breathe, wrapping my legs around him to bring him even closer to me. “I need you so much.”

He doesn’t ask again.

The sounds we make as we collide together are like music to me, even better. His breath, our groans, my squeals; it’s a symphony that we’re writing with our bodies. It’s words that neither of us can say aloud, a confession written in the way we fit together.

It’s much better than work and something I desperately, desperately don’t want to let go of.

By the time we’re done, there’s barely a surface in his office that hasn’t been anointed by our bodies.

“You’re a miracle,” he whispers, kissing me before he gets up off the floor, offering his hand to help me to my feet.

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