The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(72)

Her lips make their way toward my ear. “You’re so getting laid tonight.” Her hot breath makes the back of my neck heat, and suddenly I’m very interested in getting the hell out of here.

Screw dates at restaurants. They’re grossly overrated and highly restricting. I’m not sure what I was thinking bringing Zahra to one when she’s the kind of person who likes to sit on floors and binge takeout food together.

I give Zahra’s hip a squeeze in acknowledgment.

“Congratulations on Shanghai. You should be so proud of your accomplishments, Lance.” She gives Lance one last wave over her shoulder before she returns to her chair.

A small part of me rejoices in the fact that she doesn’t offer him a smile. Those are all mine, fuck him very much.

Lance stares at her with his mouth agape. The way he ogles at her makes me want to deck him right in his crooked nose.

I clap a hand on Lance’s tense shoulder and lean in, the gesture seeming friendly to anyone else. “There’s a reason men like you hurt women like Zahra. It has nothing to do with her and everything to do with what you’re severely lacking.” I take a moment to look down at him, not bothering to hide the disgust in my eyes.

All the blood drains from his face, and his body shrinks into itself. It brings me a completely different sense of satisfaction to affect him like this. I’m sure it’s only a fraction of the discomfort Zahra probably feels in his presence, but I’m glad to deliver it.

I give him one last pat on the shoulder before turning away.

Zahra’s already seated in her chair. Her wide eyes bounce between Lance’s retreating form and me. “Are you really sending him to Shanghai?”

“That’s up to him.” I pull out my chair and sit.

“How so?”

“He can either go to Shanghai or hand in his resignation. It doesn’t matter to me as long as he gets the hell off my property.”

She grasps my hand. “Why would you do that?”

I shrug.

“You really do like me.” She bats her long lashes.

“I already told you this earlier.” I shoot her a soft smile, which only makes her beam like the goddamn sun in return.

She grabs the dessert menu from the center of the table. “Actions speak louder than words.”

“And what do my actions say?” I lean in and grab the end of her hair, pulling her toward me, so our mouths are only a few inches apart.

“That you care more than you’re letting on.”

I close the gap between us and kiss her. “Don’t go wishing for things that can’t happen.”

The corners of her eyes soften, reflecting an emotion I haven’t seen from her yet. “That’s okay. I’ll dream big enough for the two of us.”

The strange warmth surging through my veins is quickly doused by a chill. That’s my biggest worry in one single sentence.





34





Zahra





Lance is moving to China. All because Rowan wanted to make me happy and help me move on. While he might not have said so in as many words, his actions make it extremely obvious.

If Rowan’s trying to keep things casual, he’s doing a terrible job at it. Seriously, is the man trying to make me fall in love with him? Because if he keeps up with these kinds of displays of affection, I won’t survive him. I’m already slipping into dangerous territory.

The moment the driver closes the back door to the car, I’m all over Rowan. With the partition up, I feel bold. Reckless. A little bit power-drunk on the idea of Rowan standing up to Lance.

It’s hot. He’s hot. The whole damn situation is hot.

I lift my dress and slide onto Rowan’s lap. His hands find my hips, grinding my lower half against his zipper. He steals my gasp with his lips.

Kissing him feels like a high I don’t want to come down from. Like the world seems brighter with him in it, and I want to chase this feeling until the end of time. Our tongues collide, stroking, testing, pushing.

“This isn’t safe,” he mumbles between kisses.

I grab his seat belt and buckle him in, which earns me a laugh. “There you go.”

He pulls me tighter against him. “I wasn’t complaining about me.”

“You’re overthinking things.” I trace the line of his zipper, feeling him stiffen under my touch. His grip on my hips tightens.

He undoes the seat belt with a grumble before making quick work of his belt and trousers. I thought Rowan in the bedroom was sexy, but him sitting with his pants halfway down his thighs, rigid cock on display in the back seat of a car is devastating. Because beneath those expensive suits is a man who looks like this. For me.

My knees hit the floor. Rowan’s gaze follows me as I trace the thick vein down his shaft. His breathing grows heavier as I replace my hand with my tongue. I’m tentative at first, tasting the slightest hint of his arousal mixed with some kind of addictive soap.

I cup his balls with my free hand and give them a squeeze. His hips surge forward. Arousal coats my tongue and I lave at it, switching between deep sucks and long strokes of my tongue.

Rowan’s hands dig into my hair, his desperation growing as my tempo changes. I’m addicted to the man Rowan becomes with me in private, so unlike his usual quiet, withdrawn self. Because when the walls come down, he’s voracious. Greedy. As selfish during sex as he is in a boardroom.