Page 94 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

I’m fucking her, turning her into tinder, flammable to my touch.

I fuck her and ravish her until her breathing tells me that she’s at the edge. Until the way she says “yesss” sounds new. I hear everything in her voice—that voice that’s echoed through my dreams. I’ve learned her to the minutest fraction of pleasure.

A gust of pleasure—she’s coming. Crying out.

I’m panting, thrusting into her, feeling her, loving the way her sass falls away and she’s just mine. There’s no turning back—not for me, either.

My orgasm rips through me. Harder than any I’ve ever experienced. I come with a cry, nose pressed to her damp skin, insane with the pleasure of her.

I don’t know how long we stay joined, coming down together. Time seems useless. I never want to let her go.

In chemistry, just the smallest adjustment—the addition of one atom—can be the difference between inertness and an explosion. We have that something. We really are combustible. Sexually, and in every other way, too. I’m so used to everyone hanging on my every word. Scurrying at my every command. Lizzie stands up. Talks back. Meets me in a way nobody ever has.

She was right there under my nose all that time.

I brush back the damp hair from her forehead, thinking back to that day in my office when I first felt the sizzle of her. Heard her sayMr. Amazing is being amazing elsewhere,like the utterly impudent woman she is.

And later on, like a fool, I let myself believe I misheard. I let her hide and be hidden.

I let myself not know what I knew about her.

I lower myself down next to her. “How did I not see you?” I whisper.

She smiles over at me. “Umm…it starts with an ‘O’…”

“I mean it,” I say. “I didn’t see you.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

“Why not?”

She twists the covers around her. “Okay, more like, I didn’t want Sasha to see you see me. I was trying to keep my head down. Do the work, earn the bonus. Pass GO and all that.”

“I’m going to take care of Sasha.”

She slides a finger over my lip. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but Sasha works her ass off for you. She’s like a million percent Team Vossameer. I don’t know if you should let her go. Why don’t you try praising her once in a while? That would make her feel more secure and less psycho.”

“I pay her a lot of money.”

“That’s not praise.”

“I praise her.”

“You grunt approvingly.”

I grab her finger and kiss the tip of it. “She impersonated you.”

“Well, yeah,” she says.

My gut twists when I think how mistreated Lizzie was, in my name. “When she was first claiming to be you, but not being like you, I wanted to shake her. I wanted to say, ‘It’s me!’ Because everything felt off. But a scientist doesn’t ignore evidence just because he doesn’t like the result.”

“I can’t believe she doesn’t like dessert.”

I twist a lock of her hair around a finger. In the low light, her hair look more brown. I slide my fingers through it, enjoying the softness. Usually at this point in a hookup, I’m working on my exit strategy. But lying here, I’m working on a stick-around strategy. “Those dresses you were wearing.”

“Fake.” She grins. “You are too easy.”

Just then her phone rings.

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