Page 29 of A Billion-Dollar Heir For Christmas

That he was actually alive.

But she knew better than to say it.

“Why aren’t you inside me?” she demanded instead.

Because she wanted him there, but also because she wanted the dark velvet of his laugh. The rumble of it, whisking over her skin and then into her, too, even before he pressed his long, strong fingers deep into her soft heat.

Even before he made her sigh, then moan.

As she rose, pressing her hips up to meet him, he began to move his fingers in and out of her, so slowly she didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry.

So instead of making such impossible choices, Lillie did both at the same time.

And it seemed as if an eternity crept by with her strung out there, stretched between the two, lost in the sheer perfection of his touch. Lost in how well he seemed to understand each and every one of her body’s responses. He anticipated them. He worked her toward them, then through them.

Over and over again.

It seemed as if there was nothing to do but surrender to such mastery, so that was what she did.

And Tiago, gentleman that he was, gave her a great many opportunities to get it right.

Then, when she was reduced to nothing but a shivering, shuddering mess of sensation and need and desire, he rolled her over to settle her astride him.

He slid his hands to her hips. And his gaze was a storm, deep blues and complicated greens.

“I do not know how different this will be for you,” he said, his voice gruff and low.

A warning, maybe. Or a statement of intent. Either way, the shiver that moved over her was made entirely of delight.

Even though Lillie thought that there ought to be something wrong with this. In kneeling there as she was, her knees spread wide on either side of him and that great, thick length of him standing up between them. Standing up and rubbing gently against the swell of her belly. Where their baby grew, even now.

She thought it shouldn’t be sensual, but it was. Because he and she had come together just like this to make this baby in the first place. They had done all of this together, just like this.

And that they were together again, naked and wild-eyed and filled once more with all this heat and light, felt like magic. Like a miracle.

Lillie thought this was the season for it, anyway.

And then shuddered again when he smoothed his hands over her bump, as if he felt it, too. The sweet joy that they were married. The particular glory of the fact that the wildfire, astonishing connection between them had made a person. A person that they would meet in a couple of months.

The wonder of all of this—of everything that had come from their gazes clashing together in Spain. Of all that would come, stretching on far into the future.

She thought she ought to have felt dizzy, but that wasn’t it. Not quite.

“I have no idea how it will feel,” she told Tiago.

And then watched as a smile moved over his face.

Because this was the only way Tiago Villela smiled, as far as she knew. Naked and in bed—and wickedly.

“We will discover it together, you and I,” he promised her.

And then his hands moved to her hips. It occurred to her that she had essentially told him that she’d been with no one since him, and even though that was no more than the truth, she couldn’t help but think that put her at some kind of disadvantage—

But then there was no point thinking about advantages or disadvantages, because there was only feeling.

There was only this.

There was only him.

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