Page 98 of Most Eligible Billionaire

The doors slide closed. Smuckers is a small sentry below, waiting for the doors to open again. Or maybe he’s trying to figure out the strange white shape he sees in the aged gold patina.

“Maybe you should stab some buttons a few times. Get this thing going.”

“Nobody’s stabbing any buttons,” he growls into my neck.

I like the growl. I tunnel my fingers into his hair, grab two fistfuls, kiss his cheekbone, then his lips.

“You were supposed to leave your hands up there against the wall,” he says.

“My hands are in a misbehaving mood,” I mumble into the kiss.

The bar of his cock is finding the V of my legs under the wool of my skirt, pushing and pressing, just the good side of too much.

His breath sounds harsh. It heats my skin like a burn as he slides his hands over my hips.

Feverishly, he starts sliding my skirt up toward my waist. “These skirts.” His hands tremble as he gathers it up, bunching. “You kill me all the time.”

“Henry. We’re in an elevator. What if somebody comes in?”

He pauses to cradle my chin with gentle fingers. His fingers are gentle but his gaze is pure savagery. Maybe he’ll kill anybody who comes on. Maybe that’s it.

His words feather over my lips. “You see me put in that code? That code takes this thing directly to the top floor, which is my floor. This is my front door we’re in.” He kisses me. “My doorway.” He kisses me again, then pulls back to look into my eyes. “Mine.”

In a heartbeat, thenobodygame turns dangerous.Mine. He means me.

My shoulders press back flat against the velvety wall. My sex aches. Throbs. The third-floor light flicks off and the fourth-floor light flicks on, strange stars.

He kisses me. Melts me.

I’m a thief, and I’ve broken into somebody’s beautiful home. I’m enjoying their furniture, helping myself to their food, wearing their soft clothes. It’s wonderful, but it also hurts, because none of it can ever be mine.

Just one night.

He’s back on the skirt project, making a logjam of thick fabric and lining, like ropes around my hips and thighs. “Uh,” he says, stepping back, panting. “Get it off you.”

I start to unhook the waist.

“No, no, hell no.” He’s shaking his head. “Keep it on. Just pull it up.”

“You like when it’s pulled up.” My heart pounds. Even in this, he’s so specific in his vision.

“Do it.” He pants ferociously.

I can’t resist.

I bend over and grip the hem, gazing at him from under my lashes as I draw it up slowly, turning it inside out on myself. “You have to do it nice andneat,” I say. “Or it doesn’t get done at all.” I say it all prim and proper, because that goes with the skirt fantasy he has.

There’s a feral light in his eyes. The powerbroker billionaire of the century feels out of control.

Even before I have it all the way up, he falls to his knees in front of me. “Jesus, you’re so hot.” Strong fingers slide up to grab my fleshy butt cheeks as he presses his face to my panty-covered mound.

The elevator jolts to a stop. The doors slide open revealing a dark penthouse suite, moodily lit, city lights visible in the distance.

Smuckers escapes the elevator, leash dragging.

“Smuckers just…”

“Let him destroy the place.” His words are hot against my throbbing sex. His tongue rasps over the fabric. “Let him set the whole planet on fire.”

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