I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(39)

That I would always have him.

This realization all happened in one fraction of a second, but it must have shown on my face, because I saw his brows knit just a little before he leaned in and kissed me again. As my heart thumped faster and faster, I tried to do as he’d always told me. I tried to breathe, taking in the smell of his cologne, the taste of his mouth. The way his body felt under my hands, the hard angles, the radiating heat. In a moment, he’d hoisted me up, lifting me effortlessly off my feet so I could wrap my legs around his waist. I’d almost forgotten how strong he was.

He tugged at my panties, pushing them aside and guiding himself into me in one, remarkably smooth motion. Leave it to Daniel Thorne to make bathroom sex elegant. Even this silly little thought made my heart throb painfully. God, I was in love with this ridiculous man.

I grabbed at the back of his neck as he held me up against the wall with his hands and body. Within moments, I was so overwhelmed with him that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if someone else walked into the bathroom. He had a way of doing that to me. I was acutely aware of every point of contact - his fingers digging into my thighs, my hips, his hands always moving and sliding to get a better grip - his mouth on my neck, my ears - and of course, the place where we were joined. The stall was shaking under the force of his thrusts, and I could feel already that my spine was going to be sore afterwards. But I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

When my climax rattled through me, I bit my lip to keep quiet, but I couldn’t quite stifle the low whimper as I shuddered and pulsed. My head snapped back, and would surely have hit the wall were his hand not there to stop it. I felt his fingers flex against my scalp as he stilled inside me.

A few long, shaky breaths later, he was slowly letting me back down on my feet. I kept leaning against the wall to steady myself, and he straightened himself up quickly, looking not at all like a man who’d just had a sordid public sexual encounter. I was sure I still looked flushed and guilty and reeked of his cologne, and probably would for the rest of the night.

Oh, well. Wasn’t that kind of the point?

"You go first," I said, and he nodded, flicking the lock back and making a hasty retreat. I stayed there for a few minutes longer, cleaning up as best I could and catching my breath.

As I walked unsteadily back to the table, I could feel Gen’s eyes following me. My instinct was to look away, but instead I forced myself to meet her gaze. My mouth curved up into a sly smile, without me even trying.

I sat down gracefully. Briefly, I wondered if they’d been sitting her like this, silent and awkward, for the entire time since Daniel got back. Gen kept sort of opening her mouth, looking like she was about to say something, and then deciding against it at the last moment.

Our food finally arrived, and we all busied ourselves with eating for a while. Some polite, subdued comments on the quality of the meal ricocheted around the table, but other than that, we were all content to focus on the business at hand.

In upscale restaurants, Daniel always ate like he’d been trained by Emily Post. It wasn’t his usual style, but it was pretty entertaining to watch. Sometimes I’d amuse myself by trying to mimic him, holding my fork upside down and dabbing my mouth with my cloth napkin (kept in my lap, of course) between each sip of wine. Most of the time, though, I just ate like a normal person, and no one seemed to mind. At this particular moment, considering what had just transpired in the bathroom, it seemed ridiculous to try and be ladylike. So I continued using my fork as a shovel, occasionally glancing at Gen and trying to read her studiously blank expression. She had switched back into Professional Journalist Mode, which, while admittedly an unintended side effect, was perfectly fine with me.




"So," I heard myself say, finally. "Elephant in the room."

Gen’s eyes widened. I heard Daniel set his fork down and look at me.

"The article," I said. "You know. The Woman Behind the Man. You’re dying to ask me if I’ve seen it."

"Oh." Some of the color came back into Gen’s cheeks. "Well, I wasn’t going to mention it."

"What is this, now?" Daniel was looking from one to the other of us; for once, he was the one left out of the conversation.

"Oh, you didn’t see it?" Gen was surprised. "Well, that’s probably for the best. It was a…" she looked at me, as if anything she could say would be worse than the actual article.

"It was nothing," I said. "Just a stupid feature about me. All speculation and bullshit. But it’s fine. I’m used to it know. I laughed about it, actually."

Gen was looking at me searchingly. "That’s good," she said, finally. "I can’t imagine."

"Yeah," I said. I could feel Daniel’s eyes burning a hole in me, but I didn’t look at him. "Well, with any luck, you’ll never have to."

When we’d said our good-byes and Daniel and I climbed into the back of the town car, he immediately hit the button to close the partition. John glanced once over his shoulder, but didn’t comment - all the times I’d been in this car, I’d never seen Daniel do that.

"You didn’t say anything about that article," he said. "Who wrote it? I’ll make some phone calls. I’ll make sure the writer regrets it."

I shook my head. "Don’t be ridiculous."