Page 42 of Reign of a Billionaire
Istaggered back and sat on the ledge of the tub, the memory that slammed into me with the force of a transport truck still lurking in my periphery. Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back, relishing in the soothing sound of the water running and trying to make sense of it all.
The magnetic pull that emanated from Kingston had awakened something deep inside me—that had to be it. A shiver ran down my spine as the hot water slid down my skin, my sex aching and throbbing.
Why was my usually comatose pussy coming to lifenow, of all times?
Rather than doing something stupid, I closed my eyes and slid a hand between my legs to find the skin sensitive and hot with my arousal. I imagined it was his big hand touching me, and my heart sped up. My nipples tightened.
Shaking my head, I couldn’t understand my body’s betrayal, yet I couldn’t stop myself from picturing him. Owning me. Thrusting inside me. Touching me.
The realization slammed into my brain, driving my mind into havoc.
Touching me?
I yanked my hand away as if burned. I didn’t want him to touch me. Why would I even want Kingston at all?I don’t, I told myself. I didn’t need or want any man. The scars made me self-conscious, despite the fact that reconstructive surgery had all but erased them.
A single tear rolled down my cheek, only to be swiftly washed away by the shower water. Like my scars. Like my broken heart.
“Kiss me, sunshine.”The voice I kept hearing terrified a little part of me. Who were those words spoken to?“I want to be your first, your only, your last.”
My mouth started to fill with saliva and I pressed my lips together, forcing my heart and mind to settle. What was happening to me?
I lifted my hand, tugging at my wet strands. I wished I could pull all my hair out and find the hole that had to be in my skull, letting everything that was wrong spill out. I was tired of the dreams I didn’t understand.
I forced a lungful of air into my chest. Breathe in. Then breathe out. Again. Each inhale and exhale slowly soothed my mind and body back under control.
Ignoring the wretched commotion beneath my skin, I quickly washed my hair and rest of my body, before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around myself and exiting the bathroom.
My bare feet froze, and I stilled at the doorway.
Kingston Ashford was in my—okay, theguest—bedroom, leaning against the wall casually and watching me with the dark eyes of a predator. His torso was bare, and I couldn’t help admiring the ink on his chest. I couldn’t quite make out the design, but it extended from his chest down his right arm, all of it connected with a complicated mashup of symbols.
I didn’t like that he was here. Especially not now, after the memory that left me feeling raw.
Vulnerable. Scared of the unknown.
“Ever heard of privacy?” My voice trembled, my heart drumming in my throat and my ears. He didn’t answer, but for some reason, my body hummed with anticipation. My nipples pebbled, aching for something. Or someone. My gaze traveled down his jeans to his bare feet. It made sense, he was home, yet something about him half naked had me reeling. Did he expect something?
I lifted my head and locked eyes with him.
“If you think I’m sleeping with you—” Why had my voice become breathy? He must have taken a shower too because droplets hung off the ends of his midnight-black hair. My fingers buzzed, the desire to touch him shaking me to my core.
“Who ever said anything about sleeping?”
The insinuation was… tempting. Filthy. My skin pulled tight with an ache that was foreign yet familiar. Just like in my dreams. The space between us filled with my heavy breaths and his burning gaze.
“What do you want?” I breathed.
“Make yourself come and let me watch.”
My mouth parted in shock. My cheeks went up in flames. He couldn’t be serious. Something was off, but I couldn’t figure out what. I opened my mouth to say no, but I couldn’t find my voice. What was wrong with me?
When I remained silent, he continued in that sinfully deep baritone wrapped in sin and promises of carnal pleasure. “If it’s any more appealing, I could do the same.”
My eyes fell to the impressive bulge in his jeans and my mouth went dry. I licked my lips, my tongue darting over the cut. I hoped the sting would restore reason in me. It didn’t.
I wasn’t a virgin. I wasn’t particularly shy. Yet something about letting another person watch me in the intimate, private time when I touched myself made me feel vulnerable. Exposed. Then there was the idea of anyone touching me and feeling those scars firsthand. I couldn’t let that happen.
“No touching?” I blurted. “I can take almost anything else.”
