Page 12 of Billionaire Romance

“DANCE?” he shouts, and I understand that, and it comes as a relief. I can’t form a coherent sentence. I’m confused and my feelings are overwhelming me. I don’t understand how he’s ended up here, although I remember how we ran into each other once before, so serendipitously, and I think that the universe does have weird ways of working. I’m also excited. I spy Kate across the dancefloor grinding with Gray Prada, and I can’t deny that dancing and thinking about Chris has me turned on, and if this is what the universe is offering me, well the timing is perfect and who am I to resist.

So we dance. The music is fast, and we dance around each other. I can smell his cologne every so often, a sexy breeze of spice and cedar float past me as he spins around me. He’s dressed formally again, but he’s skipped the tie tonight. He’s wearing a blue button-down, and even though the shirt is likely specially tailored for him, it’s tight enough that I can see the hard muscles of his pecs straining below. The collar is popped open, and my eyes keep darting to that spot of exposed skin, at the bottom of his neck, and imagining how I’d feel his pulse if I pressed my lips there. And when he turns, I see how perfectly his dark crepe pants hug his ass, and my eyes follow his waist as he turns, until I’m staring at his smart belt buckle, and everything delicious that I know sits right below it.

I walk around him, letting my hand reach out to touch him, dragging it around his belt as I move. He dances closer to me, rocking his shoulders from side to side until we’re face to face, and he puts one hand on my hip, so we sway together, faces close to each other, the feeling of his breath on my cheek. There’s still room between us, but there is an undeniable magnetic pull, a palpable sexual energy growing.

The song changes, and with the new rhythm pounding through the floor, I shimmy away, closer to the DJ booth, where there’s a little bit more room on the dancefloor. I don’t look behind me, but I can feel Chris’s eyes on me, and I know he’s following closely. I smirk to myself, imagining I’m leading him with an invisible leash.

I turn around and he grabs at my waist again, but this time there’s an edge to his touch. Where he’d been hesitant before, now he’s rough. I arch my back, leaning away from him, moving my upper body in time to the music. I see his eyes dart down to my breasts, the deep vee in my dress revealing just a hint of the demi-cup bra underneath. I can’t hear a thing above the loud music, but when I see the side of his mouth quirk up, and his tongue darts out ever so slightly to lick his top lip, I imagine he may have just growled at me. He leans in closer to me, his shoulders mirroring mine, and then the hand on my hip is firmly on my back, pressing his chest to mine. He’s in control now, and we’re standing flush against each other, swaying side to side again.

His eyes never leave mine, and they burn into me with intensity. I remember those eyes and noticing in Paris how unusual they are. It was when he had me pushed up against the wall with his fingers inside me, when he’d demanded I hold eye contact with him as I came. I came so hard staring into those eyes, noting they were green, and the irises were rimmed with translucent brown. I’d never seen eyes like that before. The thought sends a shiver through me, and he must detect that, because his hand travels up my back and comes to rest in my hair. I can’t hear what he says, but I feel the rush of his hot breath on my ear as he leans down to whisper to me. A feeling travels in tingles down my spine and back up again, coming to rest in my belly, leaving me with a full but desperately needy feeling.

I was going to say “Yes,” despite not knowing what he’s even said, but then he spins me so my back is to him, and the surprise of it makes me laugh out loud. When I look back at him, he’s smiling too. With a hand across my waist, he backs my ass up firmly to him, and I feel his cock through his pants, growing harder as we dance. I reach my hand up and touch his hair. It’s perfectly coifed, pulled away from his forehead, and when I touch it, I’m happy to find it’s soft and thick. His hands are so big his fingers rest just by my bellybutton, and I’m getting more and more eager to feel those hands other places, places not appropriate for this club.

Suddenly, from deep in my subconscious I wonder, “Where’s WildCaptain?” It comes from nowhere. I was having fun, turned on, and I don’t have any reason to feel guilty, but I do. Why do I feel like I’m cheating on him? He’s supposed to be a client, not my friend, certainly not my boyfriend. Obviously he has a life aside from our cam sessions. It’s only me I realize who barely has any life other than my time with him. How had I become so needy for this stranger? So dependent?

I can’t stand the music anymore. The blinking lights. I need to escape, even if it means running away from Chris, someone I actually do know in real life, someone I could have a real life experience with, even if only for a night. But the dancefloor starts tipping on its axis, and I start to feel woozy. I break away from Chris’s tight hand on my waist and bolt toward the balcony.

The cold air hits me like a shot, and I inhale sharply, pushing through small groups of smokers outside. I focus my eyes on the Chrysler building, uptown and in the distance, and I run and don’t stop until my hands have the firm bannister underneath them and I can lean against the wall. I take deep breaths, trying to slow down my heartbeat, trying to push away the doubts about my life choices, my attachment to WildCaptain, the totally bizarre turn my life has taken in the last four months.

“Weaver.” It’s Chris coming across the balcony, a camel wool coat thrown across his arm. He opens it up as he gets closer to me and places it on my shoulders. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” I start. “You’ve just taken me by surprise. Like really, really by surprise. It’s just incredible to run into you here. After all these months. There are hundreds of bars and clubs in this city. And I never go out. Like ever. The one night I go out, I run into you, and it’s just freaky. It’s like you knew where to find me.”

He stares at me, with the same intensity from before, and he isn’t smiling, not saying anything. And as I look at him, at his steady expression and confidence, everything starts to click.

“How did you know I’d be here?” I ask, raising my voice now.

He smiles now but doesn’t break eye contact.

“You know how, Weaver,” he says, reaching out to take my trembling hands.

“Because I told you, didn’t I?” I reply, looking back into his eyes and finally understanding.

Chris is WildCaptain.

---