Page 28 of The Billionaires' Gamble
“Boring, painful, unfruitful,” I say.
“Painful?”
Of course he homes in on that word.
“Finding out your mother isn’t the person you—no... That’s not right, either. It’s not that I thought she was someone else; it’s more like the death of a dream. Does that make sense?”
“It does.” He brushes a kiss against the top of my head. “I’m sorry.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the hot burn of tears I didn’t let fall earlier.
He doesn’t say a word as I cry. There’s nothing to be said.
Nothing to say that would fix this.
He just holds me as I tuck myself tighter into his embrace, quietly letting the tears fall.
I was so wrong about so many things. And seeing the truth now feels like a stubborn Band-Aid being ripped from my skin. My father was never the monster my mother made him out to be after their divorce, but I was too young to see past her lies. There’s more to life than duty, but I was so absorbed in being the best and fulfilling my mother’s expectations that I never lifted my head from the fog to see the sunlight.
I cry for time wasted. For lies told. For innocence lost. And because I could have missed this. If I hadn’t gone through everything I did, I might not have been at that auction. I might not have caught Alex and Gabe’s attention. I might not have had the panic attack that set us on this path of discovery.
Finally, I sit up and wipe my eyes. “Sorry I’m such a mess.”
“Don’t apologize.”
I look at him over my shoulder. He’s so steady. A rock in a turbulent river. My lighthouse in the storm. He leans forward, cupping my cheek.
“Never apologize for having feelings.”
My smile is wobbly. He’s incredible. “I was apologizing for crying all over you.”
“Don’t,” he murmurs with a single shake of his head. “I’m strong enough to handle them.”
And now I want to cry again. But I climb into his lap instead. We’re a tangle of limbs. Hands touching, caressing, lips locking.
“I love you,” I breathe.
He kisses his way down my neck, across my collarbone. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close. His hands glide down my back, slick from the bubbles, and close over my hips. He pulls me down just as he thrusts up, grinding that gorgeous cock between my legs.
Moaning, I kiss every inch of him I can. “I need you. Fuck me.”
Desire coils so tight, a fever pitch threatening to send me out of my mind if he doesn’t get inside me soon.
“No.”
“No?” I parrot.
He shoves a hand into my hair, holding my lips just above his. “That’s not what you need, Beauty, and we both know it. So no, I won’t fuck you. But I will make love to you.”
I melt against him, kiss him sweetly, wishing I could just crawl into his chest and stay there. “I love you so much.”
“Good. Because I love you.”
His hands move me back a few inches on his thighs, and those thick fingers tease between my legs. The first brush of my clit makes my hips jerk. I gasp, and he chuckles, the rich sound so rare I play it over in my mind to memorize it.
“You’re so slippery. Are you ready for my cock?”
I nod, squirming against his fingers. Gosh, that feels good. Like we were born to do exactly this, together, endlessly. His touch is both gentle and deliberate. He knows exactly how to touch me.
