Read BILLIONAIRE (Part 7) for Free Online Page B

and carried me into the elevator, holding me against his
chest and his sheltering heat like I weighed no more than a child.  His
distinctive scent provided a divine blend, both comforting and erotic.  He
smelled like sweat and love and money.  I turned my face up to his and curled
my arms around his neck as the elevator door closed.  I weaved my fingers
through the coarse black locks of his hair as I contemplated him.  The flexed
muscles of his shoulders and his neck.  The bruise that was forming around his
eye.  The disheveled, wild look of him, beneath the relieved, almost somber
expression.  God, how I’ve missed his face.  His hair.  I’m never, ever leaving
him again, I thought.  I can’t.  I need this too much.
    “I
love you,” I whispered, looking into the depths of his midnight-black eyes.  “I
love you so much.”
    “I’m
so sorry I scared you,” he said, his voice rasped with emotion.  Could any man
be more perfect than this one?  Forget that he was gorgeous beyond belief, the
sight of him and all his rugged, swarthy masculinity scalding my senses,
overwhelming me with relief and happiness and hunger.  It was the dedication,
the remorse and the total devotion that got me most of all.  His eyes were
reddened from the rawness of his relief.  That he’d found me.  That I might
forgive him.
    It
was enough.  I did forgive him, with my whole soul.
    I
pulled his face to mine and kissed his lips tenderly.  So softly.  Just tasting
him, reveling in the fact that he was here with me.  He groaned, as if my kiss
was breaking his heart.
    “You
know what I want to do with you?” he asked, that dark husk in his voice
unfurling something in me.  “After we’ve worked out your schedule and got you
acclimatized at Skyscraper , I want to take you out on my yacht.  Just
you and me.”  He paused, then added.  “If you want to.”
    I
couldn’t help smiling.  This was the Alexander I’d fallen in love with. 
The one who’d asked me if I was game before taking control of every
detail of my well-being.  The one who’d charmed me and fixed me, on my own
terms, and on his.  Equally.  “I want to,” I said, kissing him again, more
deeply.  Touching my tongue to his parted lips.
    He
was breathing more heavily but his grip tightened.  The elevator pinged and the
doors slid open.  I didn’t care about anything or anyone but Alexander.  With
my arms still wrapped around his neck, my hands entwined in his hair I kissed
his stubble-roughened jaw as he carried me into the foyer.  I was vaguely aware
that the doorman opened the door for us, that the limousine driver he had
called from Jake’s apartment was already there, opening another door.  But all
my focus was on Alexander’s face.  On his taste, his scent, the feel of his
body under his shirt.  He said something to the driver before the door was
closed behind us, sealing us back into Alexander’s plush world.  He settled me
onto his lap with his arms wrapped around me.
    I
kissed him again.  His feel and the taste of his lips against mine was
luscious, drugging, insanely seductive.  I touched my tongue to his, playing
him, drawing his tongue delicately into my mouth.  He exhaled with a low,
savage sound, but he pulled back.  “You’re tired, sweetheart.  I don’t want to
push you tonight.  You’ve been through the ringer.  I want you to rest.”
    I
loved the genuine concern in his voice.  I’d scared him today and he was taking
no chances with me.  He’d promised to be careful, to make amends for his
mistake.  And he was right: I had been through a ringer of sorts today,
one that had left me emotionally raw and also insanely thankful.  That I had
him.  That he was mine, flaws, obsessions and all.
    I
wanted to show him how glad I was to see him.  I wanted to prove to him that
I’d forgiven him, and that I trusted him.  “I don’t want to rest yet,” I said. 
“Alexander, make love to me.  Right now.  I