I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(38)

The footsteps came closer and closer, finally stopping directly in front of the door.

"Maddy," he said, softly.

I threw the lock back and pulled the door open, and he stepped in, quickly, re-locking it behind him without missing a beat.

He was on me, kissing me wildly, before I even knew what had happened. I was of course hoping he’d react well to my proposition, but this was even better than what I’d imagined. I could feel him pressing against my leg, stiff and hot already.

"You…" he whispered, his hands all over me, pressing me up against the wall. He was hurriedly untucking my blouse from my skirt, his fingers fumbling with the delicate little buttons. I didn’t know what he planned to do, exactly - I wasn’t quite so lost in a fit of passion that I wouldn’t object to my favorite blouse being slung over a bathroom stall door. But apparently, he just wanted to open it enough to see me and touch me a little better. He stopped halfway down, reaching up and roughly pushing my bra up over my breasts.

"I…what?" I breathed, tilting my head back so he could press his lips against my neck. When he nipped me with his teeth, I squealed, but it wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark. Not this time. By the time we got back to the table, no matter what excuse he’d used to slip away, it would be abundantly clear what we’d been doing - hickey or no hickey. There was no use rubbing it in.

Besides, I didn’t particularly want to be banned from this restaurant for life.

"We won’t get in trouble," he rumbled, his mouth against my collarbone, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. "I could buy and sell this place."

I normally hated it when he said things like that, but for some reason, now, in this moment, it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life. Even so, I felt I had to at least put on a show of protest.

"Shut up," I said, planting my hands on his chest and shoving back at him. He didn’t budge an inch; his face registered surprise for a moment, and then he smiled, wickedly.

"Really?" His hand slid behind my head, grasping a handful of hair. I hissed. "Is that really what you want? For me to shut up?"

I didn’t answer. "What if somebody walks in?"

His mouth twitched. "Ms. Wainwright, this was your idea. Surely you’re not getting cold feet now."

"I’m not," I insisted. "I just think we should have…a plan."

"Here’s the plan," he said. Then, he closed his hand around the very top of my throat, where it met my chin - not hard, not nearly enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough to hold me in place. And then he kissed me.

I made a soft noise against his mouth, but he swallowed most of it. I wondered how thin these walls were. The restaurant wasn’t particularly quiet, but it wasn’t necessarily loud enough to drown out everything.

Then again, with every passing moment, I was caring less and less.

He was shoving his knee between my thighs, the way he knew I liked - forcing my stance wider and wider. In my high heels, I had too little traction to try and fight it. My feet slid apart, exactly as far as he wanted.

I moaned into him, gripping his arms for balance. His muscles flexed under my hands as he grabbed me hard around the waist, breaking off our kiss long enough to nuzzle at my face, then slide over and gently nibble at my ear. I shivered and gripped him harder, feeling like I might actually lose my balance.

The skin around my mouth was tingling from his stubble rubbing against it. I exhaled harshly. He hesitated for a moment, pulling back and looking at me with concern.

"I’m fine," I reassured him, smiling a little. "I swear. I’m breathing and everything."

He grinned, and his hands slowly slid up under the hem of my skirt. The pads of his fingers left a burning trail on my bare thighs; I was suddenly very, very grateful that I hadn’t worn pantyhose. I hated them anyway, though I knew I was "supposed" to wear them with certain outfits - and Daniel certainly never complained.

And at that exact moment, I heard the door swing open.

We both froze.

His fingers were inches from the hems of my panties. His eyes followed the sound of the footsteps, all the way across the marble tile, to the urinals. I knew there was a very small chance that our unexpected visitor would even turn to see to the two pairs of feet under the stall. And even if he did, he might choose to ignore it. But in defiance of all logic, my heart was beating so fast I thought it might explode. More than anything, I wanted to take a deep breath, but I didn’t want to risk making a sound.

The water ran, and a few impossibly long moments later, I heard the door swing open again.

We were alone.

Daniel’s eyes met mine. The corner of his mouth was twitching, and for some reason I felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up inside me. I let it out - quietly as I could, but it was infectious, and suddenly we were both laughing - gasping, leaning against each other, trying to stay as quiet as we could. Daniel buried his face in my shoulder, shaking. When we finally recovered, he lifted his head and looked at me again; his eyes were shining, and suddenly this wasn’t just about my jealousy or the risk or anything but my need for him. The intensity of it hit me all at once, and I was breathless. I couldn’t tell what was throwing me more off-balance - the deep thrum of desire in my body, or the familiar twinge in my heart. I wanted him. Every part of him, always, and I couldn’t stand the thought of it not lasting forever. Just now, this moment, wasn’t enough. No one moment would ever be enough. I had to know, really know, that I would always have this.