The Billionaire and the Virgin (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #1)(48)
“I know,” he soothed, even as he continued to stroke and pet her body. “I’ve got you.”
“Oh,” she moaned, and her hips moved fiercely against his hand. He pinched her nipple even as he kept rubbing the two fingers against the sides of her clit. “Oh! Oh!”
Her hips jerked against him, and then her entire body stiffened, and she was coming, a tremble bursting through her body. He continued to rub, fascinated by the look on her face as she came. She was beautiful. He felt another surge of possessiveness, and it didn’t fade even as she continued to rock her hips slowly against his fingers, coming down from her orgasm. Eventually, she exhaled deeply and put the back of a hand to her forehead.
“Oh,” she said softly. Her lips curled into a smile.
God, she was pretty. Reluctantly, he slid his fingers from her wet * and resisted the temptation to lick them clean. Didn’t want to shock his virgin any more than she was already shocked. He wiped his hand on the discarded towel, and then moved back into the bed, dragging her against him.
“I . . . I should go back to my room,” she said in a low voice.
“Soon,” he told her, tucking her body against his as the smaller spoon. The position allowed him to drape an arm over her waist and rest a hand on one of those cute little titties he was so fond of.
“All right, soon,” she agreed, and snuggled down next to him. Moments later, he was pretty sure she was asleep. He ran his thumb over one of her nipples thoughtfully, enjoying the automatic shiver that rippled through her even as she slept.
He’d never had a woman spend the night before. But now that he had Marjorie in his bed, he didn’t want her to leave it anytime soon.
Maybe ever.
Chapter Eighteen
Marjorie woke up out of a delicious sleep to the feel of something hard prodding against her buttock. She blinked at her surroundings. Big hotel room. Strange art on the walls.
Warm body against her. One hand squeezing her bare breast. Erection pushing against her backside. Her pajama pants still on her legs, but no top.
Oh.
Flashes of last night flooded through her mind and she bit back her gasp. Arousal snaked through her veins, and she recalled vividly what she’d done to him . . . and what he’d done to her. And oh, it was fun. More than fun—amazing. She wanted more.
But she peered at the alarm clock on the bedside table and sighed. Eight in the morning. She had to be at breakfast with the other bridesmaids in an hour, and then they had one last fitting and a makeup trial run to go through. There was no more time to lie back in bed and cuddle, as tempting as the thought was. So she peeled back the covers and started to edge out of bed.
“Nope,” Rob said sleepily, and pulled her back against him. “Stay here with me.”
“I can’t,” she said, though she was smiling as he gave her breast another squeeze. It sent pleasurable shockwaves through her body, a reminder of last night. Gosh, last night had been wonderful. “I just realized, by the way, that you switched rooms.”
“I did,” he mumbled. “Shower broke in the other.”
“Oh.”
“This shower comes with a free back rub if you stay, though,” he told her, giving her breast another squeeze.
“I wish I could, but I have a full schedule this morning.”
“Call in sick.” He moved a little closer and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“I can’t,” she said again, and when his thumb began to stroke her nipple in teasing circles, she regretfully had to pull his hand off of her. “I owe Bront? being present. This is the last fitting and she’s stressed out of her mind as it is.”
“So responsible,” he said, kissing her shoulder again. “That’s sexy. Let me know when you’re free?”
“I will.”
“Text me?”
“Sure.”
“Text me pictures of your *?”
She gasped and slid out of his grip. “No way.”
He chuckled, eyes closed, and tugged the blankets closer around his body. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“You devil.” She scooped her top up off of the floor and buttoned it, then reluctantly looked back at him. Rob had fallen asleep again, so she tiptoed out of his room and closed the door quietly behind her.
An hour later, she was showered and changed, and racing down to the reserved dining room so she wouldn’t be late to meet the others. Marjorie arrived with one minute to spare, and the only person waiting in the dining room was Bront?, her hair pulled up in a bun and her eyes bright. She looked happy and relaxed.
“I’m here,” Marjorie said as she sat down next to Bront? at the empty table. The places were set for five others—the bridesmaids and Violet, who was unofficially included—but no one else had arrived. “Where is everyone?”
“I think we’re all running a little late this morning. No worries. They’ll be here.”
“You look relaxed,” Marjorie told Bront? with a smile. “Everything going well?”
“Nope,” Bront? said. “The cake was flown in from the mainland and crumbled to pieces so Logan’s flying in a new cake chef and paying a ridiculous amount of money because he doesn’t want me to cry. The flowers are the wrong shade of red. Again. And that awful man that’s pissing Logan off is still somewhere on the island.” Her smile widened. “But I’m good because Logan scheduled me a three-hour massage yesterday.”