Dirty Billionaire (Page 37)
“You’re a fucking goddess, Holly.”
Her answering smile is shy as I back her toward the bed. When the back of her legs touch the mattress, she sits, and I drop to my knees.
“And it’s my turn to worship.”
And worship, I do. Until she’s come three times, and I can still feel the marks her nails left in my scalp as I settle into bed and wrap myself around her, tucking my once-again hard cock between her ass cheeks.
As I’m dozing off, one hand cupping a breast, I wonder if I’ll ever be sated with her.
Something about last night—the sushi, sitting on the table, telling Creighton about my past and the intimacy we shared after—trips my brain into a whole new side of married life. I’m afraid to trust it, afraid to rely on it. Skepticism is one quality I’ve got in spades.
So when I open my eyes the next morning, expecting to see an empty space in the bed beside me and yet Creighton is there, a tiny bit of that skepticism fades away. Maybe I am a little bit important to him. I thought for sure he’d be off running an empire right now, leaving me alone again at the earliest possible moment. His presence provides some hint of validation that I don’t want to admit needing.
As these thoughts roll through my brain, I realize it’s only the second time I’ve seen him asleep, the first being the early hours of Christmas morning. But that morning, I only chanced a glance at him before I hurriedly shoved all my stuff in my bag and tiptoed to the door. He was supposed to be nothing more than a way to forget that I’ll never share another Christmas Eve with Gran . . . and yet now he’s my husband.
Face relaxed in sleep, he looks younger than his thirty-three years. Without that blinding intensity and those piercing eyes focused on me, I’m able to study him at my leisure. Dynamic. Ruthless. Driven. Those are three words I’d use to describe him. Even in sleep, he’s probably dreaming about conquering something.
I know I should wonder about his motivations behind this whole marriage, but I find that I don’t care. Whatever it was that sent him on this wild hair, I should find it in me to be grateful. Otherwise, I’d be wearing another man’s ring and living an even bigger farce.
Glancing down at the ring on my finger, I realize that I like it there. Warmth creeps into my veins at the sense of belonging I feel.
Crap. I’m starting to get attached. Danger!
The terrifying realization is interrupted when Creighton’s eyes flick open and his gaze lands on me.
“Are you watching me sleep?”
I decide to go with the truth. “Yes.”
His lips curve up, and I catch a flash of his white teeth. I think it’s a genuine smile, but they’re so rare for him, I have to actually think about it.
When he stretches his arms overhead and the sheet falls away, his washboard abs rippling, I forget about the smile completely. How can a man who sits at a desk all day look like that?
My mouth opens before I can engage my brain. “Do you leave your desk to climb buildings or something? Seriously, those aren’t desk-jockey abs.”
His smile shifts into the smirk I’ve become very familiar with as his gaze jumps to mine.
“You’re saying you actually like something about me?”
Creighton’s eyebrow goes up, and I know he’s having fun with me, so I give it back to him.
“I’m saying I’d like those abs on any man, so I guess I’m lucky they’re yours.”
His eyes narrow at my words. “Any man?”
His tone is quiet and even more intimidating than normal. I have only that tone as the slightest warning before he rolls and reaches for me. My squeak of surprise fills the room as he draws me closer and pins me beneath him, one forearm on either side of my head.
“There are no other men when it comes to you, do you understand me, Holly? None. You belong to me.”
Whoa. Holy possessive alpha-male alert, Batman.
I push up on my elbows, bringing my lips within a breath of his. “As long as that means there aren’t any other women for you, then we have a deal.”
“You think you can bargain with me?” Every movement of his lips brushes them across mine.
“I’m sure going to try,” I reply, my daring knowing no limits this morning.
“Sassy girl. You know that just makes me want to teach you a lesson, right?” His tone is a low growl, and his lips continue to tease mine with the hint of a kiss.
Untangling one of my arms from beneath me, I reach up and bury my fingers in his dark hair. “Then what are you waiting for?”
His lips crash down against mine, and words cease to be necessary.
Creighton leaves the penthouse to head to work around ten a.m., and when he promises that he’ll be back to get me by seven, I actually believe him. Maybe it’s the look in his eye when he left the bed that clearly said he didn’t want to leave me there alone. It’s like something finally clicked, and like a train, we’ve shifted onto a different track. One where maybe we can figure out how to coexist peacefully.
When I finally drag myself out of bed, I shower and breeze through my morning routine, dressing in some of the most casual of the new clothes in my closet. Glancing at the TV, I think about turning it on, but really don’t want to know if my marriage to this complicated man is still the top story.
Creighton promised days ago that if I just trust him, he’ll take care of the press side of things, and I shouldn’t worry because it’s a pointless waste of energy. I decided he was right and just buried my head in the sand. If a billionaire can’t stop them from saying what they’re going to say, how can I? It’s wasted effort.