The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(33)

“Oh.” She looked worried, then looked away. Which he didn’t comprehend. He lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked baby soft skin with his thumb.

“What’s yours?” He wanted to know everything about her—why she forced herself to stop when she was clearly enjoying what was happening. What was holding her back?

“My pace?” Her delicate throat moved when she swallowed. “I’m a few…encounters away from there.”

“Okay.” He dipped his chin. He was fine with a few more encounters.

“But I want to…do what you said. I want to…” She laughed full out. “I can’t say it.” She started to stand, ready to run again. He caught her wrist and pulled her back down. This time she sat even closer to him. He could see the pulse fluttering against her neck.

“You want to do what I said.” He threaded her hair through his fingers. “You want to enjoy this.”

She nodded, barely, and he mentally punched the air in triumph. That nod was like finding a hidden trail on the map that was Rachel Foster.

“You’re not sure if you can,” he guessed.

She closed her eyes. He didn’t like the way she couldn’t admit it. Had someone done a number on her, or was she woefully inexperienced? No, no way was she that inexperienced. She’d kissed him, and the woman could kiss. His heart was just now ticking down to a normal rate.

“I’m not sure of anything,” she whispered.

Well. He tightened his grip on her neck, massaging his fingertips against her scalp. If this wasn’t a challenge he was made for, he didn’t know what was.

“You’re in good hands, Dimples.” He brushed his nose against hers. “You’ll enjoy yourself. I’ll see to it. Only satisfied women leave my bed.”

“I’m not worried about my satisfaction.” She pulled back some to focus her eyes on his, and in them reflected real concern. “I’m worried about yours.”

He nearly laughed because the idea was f*cking ridiculous, but her worry was so tangible, he swallowed his reaction. The root of her fear was whether or not he would enjoy himself? There was a crass but simple way to alleviate her concern.

He grasped her hand, put it over his aching cock, and asked against her lips, “Do I feel dissatisfied to you?”

When he thought she might leap away from him, she surprised him, gripping him harder. He grunted, a sharp exhale leaving his lungs.

“No,” she said on a harsh whisper, then kissed him. Kissed the life right out of him. He groaned into her mouth, accepting her tongue again and again, his hips shifting toward her insistent, stroking hand. He was going to come in his pants if she didn’t stop touching him.

Their kisses grew deeper, his tongue sparring with hers at a feverish, desperate pace. Her hands wandered away from his fly to his T-shirt. She lifted it, palming his hot, naked skin. He was all for it. He lay back on the arm of the couch when she pushed him, allowing her to drape half on top of him while her chilly hands rubbed up and down his torso.

When she pulled her lips from his, he was panting, his hard-on pressing against her giving body. He hooked his thumbs on her jaw before she scrambled away from him again.

“What’s this pace?” She was out of breath, lips swollen pink from his beard raking her softer skin. Gorgeous. Ridiculously gorgeous and plastered to him with way too many clothes on.

“You’re still setting it,” he answered, sweeping his thumb over her bottom lip. “You don’t have to take me to bed tonight.”

She nodded and his cock gave an argumentative twitch. Tag gritted his teeth. No, it wasn’t what he’d wanted to say, but it was what she needed to hear.

“Maybe we could make out some more?” Her request came out like a question. Even though it would be the most torturous make-out session ever, he answered instantly.

“Yes.”

She crawled off his lap, sat next to him, and arranged her hair. He watched the thick waves tumble, remembering what they felt like between his fingers a moment ago.

She reached for the band holding his hair back. “May I?”

“Always.” He was so amused by this woman. She wasn’t timid, more afraid of his reaction. A spark of an epiphany pushed forward but fizzled the second she started pulling at the band. She let his hair down slowly, then put her hands in it and pulled the long strands over his shoulders.

“Tarzan.” She smiled. “You’re more like Thor. Those shoulders.” She raised her eyebrows. “Bree called you a Viking billionaire.”

“That’s a new one.” A low laugh echoed in his chest, releasing some of the tension between them. She was easy to be around when she was being her fun, flirty self. When she let down her guard and stopped trying to keep him at arm’s length. More proof they were good together. That she wanted this.

If she needed to be made comfortable enough to enjoy herself, he was in like f*cking Flynn.

He leaned forward and she closed her eyes, lips waiting. He bypassed her mouth and put his mouth to her ear, nipping her lobe with his teeth, then swirling his tongue. She moaned. Oh, yeah. She liked this just fine.

One hand holding her head to the side, he tilted her neck and explored there, dotting her jawline and her throat with hot kisses before dragging his tongue back to her ear.

He was rewarded with drooping eyelids and blown-out pupils. He officially did not get it. This girl was a sexual firecracker waiting for a flame, yet afraid of igniting.