Page 89 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

She nods her head yes. She’ll keep laughing. I wouldn’t expect anything less.

She’s breathing hard, watching me with those goddamn laughing eyes. Fox brown. Rich like velvet. “Fuck,” I hiss.

Her skin is warm under my harsh grip. Soft breaths heave in and out her nostrils.

I’m pressing her hard against the wall, hand mercilessly sealing her mouth.

And suddenly it’s hot.

It’s wrong that it’s hot, me holding her captive like this, but goddamn, my cock has never been harder.

She gives me a smoldering look. She feels it, too.

“Are you gonna be a problem?” I rumble into her ear.

There’s something new in her stare, now: Heat. Challenge. Lust, dark with need. She’s never been hotter.

“Are you gonna be a problem if I take away my hand?” I ask again.

Her nostrils flare. Warm breath caresses my fingers.

“Well?” I grate out.

She nods.Yes. She’ll be a problem if I take away my hand. She’s going to be a problem. It’s so Tabitha.

I should be angry, but I’m not. I never could be—not really.

I was anything but angry, all those Friday nights, just us in my office above the world. Anything but annoyed.

How did I get us so wrong?

Sitting there soaking in the closeness of her body, the feel of her bright spirit lighting the corners of my dark world. The way she’d tunnel her fingers into my hair, massaging my scalp; her carefulsnip-snip-snip; the way she’d brush my beard with the backs of her knuckles.

The friction of us—her bright chatter against the hard stone of my heart.

Fuck. This woman.

I breathe in her bright berry scent, let it surge through me. Fire licks up my skin.

Her gaze glows, bright with desire.

I want her so badly, I’m burning up.

“You and that smart mouth,” I bite out.

And then I remember Marvin. Is he still out there? Because this isn’t for Marvin. None of this is for Marvin.

“Not here,” I whisper as I unseal her mouth. She looks surprised—maybe it’s my raw tone. She likes everything to be fun and jokey with a bright surface, and I’m not playing—not anymore.

I pick her up and haul her right over my shoulder.

She lets out a small shriek as I carry her through the spa room, on through a darkened door, and into the massage area, dimly lit by the glowing globs of salt.

I kick the door closed and put her down on the table.

“Why, Rex!” she says in a husky tone. “The brutish thing is working for me.”

The fingers of my free hand find the top button of her bodice and flick it open. Then the next. My knuckles brush her chest as her dress falls open to me, skin igniting skin. I can barely think; I just need to be in her, deep and hard.

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