Page 96 of Most Eligible Billionaire

“So entitled.” My words sound breathless to my ears. My sex throbs. “You think you can get whatever you want?”

“Come home with me,” he rumbles into my neck.

“I can’t. It’s not just my responsibility to Carly...”

“I’m tired of responsibilities,” he says. “Let’s forget them for a while. Be two people without any of it.”

I rest my head back on the seat, gaze at him in the flashing dark and light. The feel of him looming slightly over me excites me. I want him to loom over me like that while I’m naked. I want him to pin my hands and devour me. I swallow. “Sounds to me like you’re suggesting a dirty role play.”

“The opposite,” he says. “I’m suggesting us without the roles and responsibilities. We leave them in this car.”

My mouth goes dry. Of all the offers in the world, he makes this one. My heart twists.

The shadow of a wicked smile plays at the corners of his lips in the dim light of the posh ride. Slowly, eyes pinning mine, he straightens his arms in front of him, shooting his cuffs.

He turns his watch hand palm up. My breath hitches as he releases the clasp with a snick. The watch falls into bracelet mode.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “What are you doing?”

He slides a finger under the metal band and pulls it off his hand. Again that evil smile. He holds it out on his long, thick finger. I’m thinking about the way that finger felt inside me, back on that rooftop. Maybe he is, too.

He flings the watch onto the empty seat opposite us. It bounces and comes to rest. Its hard body glints in the light. A symbol. A tease.

Maybe just this night,I think.

He rests a hand on my thigh, heavy and warm. His breath comes fast. “Now you,” he says. “Leave something behind. It’ll just be us.”

I look down at my outfit, wishing I’d worn one of my necklaces. I would throw that on the seat for him. My sweater? But I have only a cami under it. A shoe? I hold out my hands. Not even wearing rings.

I set a hand on Smuckers’s furry head. “Sorry, buddy, looks like you’re spending the night in the car.”

I feel a hand tighten around my ponytail. A voice deep and low. “This.”

Shivers skitter down my spine. “You want my hair?”

“Shut,” he gusts into my ear, “it.”

I bite back a smile. Is the limo going a million miles an hour? It might be.

“Stay still.” He pulls at the back of my head. He’s working the band from my ponytail.

My breath comes out in shudders. He works it down the length of my hair, movements rough and clumsy. I like him being rough and clumsy with my hair. I like everything he’s doing. I want to feel everything. I want to do this thing, us like two nobodies.

I feel when he gets it free. I wait for him to toss the ponytail holder onto the opposite seat, but instead he grabs a handful of my hair, seems to tighten his fist around it—not pulling it, just grabbing it.

It comes to me that he’s never seen it down. I feel his nose at the back of my head. I hear him suck in a ragged breath.

My heart jumps into my throat.

“Put out your hand.”

I do as he says, trying not to let it shake. He sets the tie in my palm with a shivery brush. I close my fist around it, holding it there for a moment, suspended in time.

Then I toss it to the seat.

It comes to rest next to the watch.

Avatars of the two of us, like dragonflies trapped in amber.

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