Gulping, I try to remember what we’re talking about. “Even if…” The words dissolve in my throat as he lowers his head to kiss my neck, his breath hot on my skin as his hand delves into my unzipped shorts, invading my rapidly dampening panties. His lips are silky soft, his tongue wet and warm as he licks the spot under my ear, making me shiver with a sensual chill. Fighting the haze, I try again. “Even if…” His thumb grazes my clit, and he bites down on a sensitive cord in my neck, turning me into a fuzzy-brained puddle. With a heroic effort, I locate a sliver of mental clarity, gasping out, “Even if the sexing’s really good”—and then my mind shuts down completely as he penetrates me with two big fingers, stretching me with delicious roughness.
“Is that right?” he murmurs, nibbling on my earlobe as his fingers curve inside me. Only I can no longer process what he’s saying, my entire being focused on the throbbing tension in my core as he begins to finger-fuck me with a hard, fast rhythm. My shorts and underwear are still on, limiting his range of motion, but his middle finger hits my G-spot with every thrust and the heel of his palm grinds against my clit, making me clench helplessly around his fingers.
Panting, I grip his shoulders, my eyes squeezing shut and my fingers digging into the hard muscles as my heartbeat skyrockets. He’s biting my neck again, and I’m close, so close—and then, with a white-hot burst of sensation, I’m there, the orgasm exploding through my nerve endings like fireworks doused in gasoline. Crying out, I arch into his fingers, my inner muscles spasming and releasing as my toes curl and dots of light speckle my vision. I come for what feels like minutes, the ecstasy so sharp it’s almost painful, and when it finally abates, I feel like I may never want to move again.
With effort, I force my heavy eyelids open—and find him watching me with fierce intent, his blue eyes darkened by arousal. Holding my gaze, he pulls out his fingers with a slow, deliberate movement, and I shudder with a rippling aftershock as his palm drags over my swollen clit.
Moving with the same slow deliberateness, he brings his fingers—the ones that had just been inside me—to his mouth and sucks on them.
My breath stills in my lungs, my body tightening with a resurgence of aching need. He doesn’t say that he’s enjoying the taste of me, but he doesn’t have to. It’s there on his face, in the way his lids grow heavy and a hint of color darkens his high cheekbones.
With one final suck, he pulls the now-clean fingers out of his mouth and curves his palm over my jaw. His touch is tender, but there’s no mistaking the savage possessiveness in his gaze as he leans closer, the edge of his thumb stroking over my lower lip.
“You’re mine, Emma.” His voice is low and rough, filled with unshakeable certainty. “And this—you and me—it’s happening. You can fight it all you want, but in the end, you’ll give in. Because you feel it too, this pull between us… this compulsion. It doesn’t matter how different you think we are, or how much it scares you. The fact of it remains, and resisting it will only make it stronger.” His lips twist. “Believe me, I know.”
I swallow, my heart hammering painfully. “And what if I give in? What then?”
Will you break my heart again… walk away and leave me in pieces?
The words dance on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back. I can’t let Marcus know how much he’s already hurt me—because then he’d know the truth.
He’d realize I’m helplessly, head-over-heels in love with him.
His blue eyes darken, and I wonder if I betrayed myself anyway, if he understood my pathetic “what then?” for the desperate, lovesick plea it was.
Don’t hurt me. Don’t abandon me. Love me.
Slowly, with exquisite care, he presses his lips to mine, the kiss so tender it makes me want to cry. “Then, kitten,” he murmurs, pulling back to gaze at me, “I will give you the world… everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
And as my heart clenches with agonizing hope, he kisses me again and begins stripping off my clothes.
13
Emma
“Your billionaire better be an alien who carried you off on his spaceship,” Kendall says in lieu of a greeting as she accepts my video call the next morning. “Seriously, Ems, what the fuck? I’ve called you like fifty times since Sunday.”
“Three times,” I correct, wincing internally. “And I’m really, really sorry. I was going to call you back, but it’s been… Well, a lot’s been going on.”
She rakes her fingers through her hair—magically avoiding frizzing up the sleek dark locks. “Yeah, no kidding, Captain Obvious. You and Mr. Billions making out on Page Seven? I better hear all the juicy details.”
“Right, so…” I prop the phone against a flower pot on my grandparents’ lanai table and look around, making sure I’m still alone on the screened porch. The coast seems to be clear. My grandparents are at their morning salsa class, and Marcus must still be asleep. For once, I woke up before him and snuck out to make this call. Taking a breath, I turn back to the phone camera. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Kendall rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Get on with it already. I don’t have all morning. Well, I do, since we’re off this Friday, but you know what I mean.”
“Right.” Without further ado, I launch into my story, filling her in on everything that’s happened since I spoke to her last—from the amazing weekend Marcus and I shared, to his disappearance on Sunday, to the way he chased me down at the airport with his proposal to move in.
“Wait, what?” Kendall looks just as stunned as I felt at the time. “He asked you to move
