Page 26 of Forbidden Billionaire (Titans #7)

Chapter Nineteen

Seraphina

A few days later, I open the door for him, and I know I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Or maybe…a delicious one.

Xavier Blackwell stands on the threshold, looking too good for my nervous system—crisp suit, clean-shaven jaw, the faintest shadow of five o’clock temptation. But it’s his eyes that undo me.

They drag over me, slow and lethal, lingering on the hem of my very short skirt before dropping farther, darkening with each inch, like a predator clocking a threat.

His jaw locks.

“You were planning to wear that? Out in public? To dinner? With me?” His voice is husky, with a low vibration.

God. His reaction is everything I dreamed of when I got dressed.

We’ve been busy with work, and we haven’t had sex since that unsettling Sunday night at my place. I feel a little unmoored, and I need an emotional and physical connection with him.

After my happy hour outing, he was sexy as fuck. But I haven’t had his hands on me, haven’t had him in my space.

He’s professional but distant, as if something has made him wary, and anytime I ask, he assures me everything is fine. But I know for a fact I’m not making it up.

I’m on edge with fear, and there’s a pit in my stomach.

Giving him room and space hadn’t worked, so I’ve resorted to a desperate attempt to return things to normal, like they were when he helped me to move into my apartment.

“Seraphina?”

Digging deep for courage and a light-hearted attitude, I lean one shoulder against the frame and give him my best sweet-and-sassy smile. “You said we were going on a date and that I should dress nice.”

“Nice,” he affirms. “Not goddamn accessible.”

I cross my legs at the ankle, just to twist the knife. “I thought you liked my legs.”

He doesn’t answer.

God, he’s hard under all that polish. This is the man who rules empires, and right now, he’s biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood because I showed too much thigh.

Good.

Without an invitation, he starts to enter, taking hold of my shoulders and moving me backward.

“Wait!”

When I’m safely inside, he closes the door and locks it

“I’m ready to go.”

“We’re staying.”

“But…” Stunned, I blink. “What are you doing? We have reservations.”

“Did.” He gives me one long, steady look—the kind that should come with a warning label and a fire extinguisher. “We did have reservations.”

Then he pulls out his phone and presses a button.

“Vionna.” He never takes his gaze off me. “Cancel our reservations. And pick up something from Le Jardin. We’ll eat in. We’ll need wine too.”

Oh heavens.

I hadn’t anticipated that.

Maybe I shouldn’t have poked the bear.

He hangs up.

“Uhm…” I swallow hard. “Really. That wasn’t necessary. We could still go out. I mean, I hate for us to have to stay home.”

He sets his phone down on the entryway console. “Little troublemaker, you have no idea what you just got yourself into.”

Suddenly I’m terrified.

And ridiculously turned on.

With deliberate control, each movement precise, he shrugs off his suit coat.

Without a word, he extends it to me. Not knowing what else to do, I take it and hang it in the coat closet.

Motions deliberate, terrifying me, he unfastens his cuff links—the ones with engraved owls and emerald eyes.

They land on the console with a slight thud. With the same unhurried grace, he begins rolling back his shirt sleeves.

Finally, forearms bared, he returns his attention to me.

I swallow hard.

“I want you bent over the coffee table.” His voice is silken, stretched tight.

“The…” A shiver dances across my skin.

“You heard me.”

I hesitate, but only for half a second. Long enough for him to know I’m doing this on my terms. Long enough for him to enjoy how badly I want it.

Unhurried, a little excited to have his hands on me, I walk into the living room, my hips swaying beneath that tiny scrap of skirt. Knowing he’s watching, I take my time bending over and placing both my palms flat on the glass.

The tension in the room hums like an exposed wire.

Behind me, the air shifts.

A hand slides up the back of my thigh—slow and steady, making me quiver. Then, with a sharp tug, he lifts the hem of my skirt high.

A low curse escapes him. “What the fuck are you even thinking? No panties?”

I bite my bottom lip. “I was doing you a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Saving you the effort of having to remove them later this evening.”

“Never do anything like this again unless I give you explicit instructions. Are we clear, Ms. Hollis?”

“Absolutely.” Will an apology save me? “I’m so very?—”

The first smack lands before I finish the sentence.

A sharp sting blooms across one cheek.

I gasp, and my breath fogs the glass.

“You wanted my attention?” Another smack, harder. “You’ve got it.”

He smooths his hand over the heat he left behind, then trails between my thighs. His fingers part me, stroke me, then barely dip inside.

“You’re already drenched. Filthy girl.”

For him. Only for him.

He slides one thick finger along my slit, circling my clit with infuriating precision. My hips rock without my permission.

And then…nothing.

He pulls away. The sudden absence aches.

“Stand up.” Command drips from his words.

Shaking, I somehow manage to do what he says.

“Now strip for me. You wanted to be half naked, so why not be totally exposed?”

The atmosphere sizzles with tension. I’m getting what I wanted, but I never expected anything so intense.

“Get on with it, Seraphina.”

My fingers go to the buttons of my blouse. Because I’m nervous, I end up taking longer than I want. And because he’s touched me, I have to press my thighs together tightly.

One by one, the buttons slip free.

His eyes never leave mine.

When I slide the blouse off my shoulders, he watches it fall.

The skirt follows.

I’m standing in heels and nothing else. No bra. No panties.

He circles me like a wolf deciding where to strike first.

“I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to.”

Slowly exhaling, I meet his gaze. Not in challenge but with a plea. “Remind me.” When did I become this emboldened?

He drags a hand down my spine and cups my ass again. “Bend over.”

I obey, this time bracing on the arm of the couch.

He spanks me, methodically, beautifully, until my cheeks burn and my breaths come faster and faster.

“Your ass should always be this color.” Then he hauls me upright and backs me against the wall.

Xavier kisses me hard. Unforgiving. Possessive.

Then again, with more force, he sweeps his tongue into my mouth, and I moan, clinging to his shoulders.

With one hand, he cups my breast, pinches the nipple until I cry out. Then he soothes it with his mouth, licking, sucking, making me arch.

How desperate I am for him terrifies me. “I missed this, Xavier.” My words are a whispered confession. And I need it.

For a fraction of a second, his gaze softens, and pure desire passes between us. Nothing matters, not work, not the merger, just us. And it’s exactly what I need. Then his mouth is back on my skin.

Against the wall, he fingers me, and when I’m about to climax, he stops, making me cry out.

“When I finally let you come, if I let you come, you’ll no longer question anything about me. About us.”

Again and again, he edges me, bringing me to the brink everywhere he can, moving me through my space, ensuring I’ll have memories of him no matter where I am. Over the armchair, flat on my back on the dining room table.

Each time, he leaves me cruelly close to orgasm. And each time that I sob with need, he praises me for taking it.

“Please, let me come.” I’m so lost in the experience, in him, that I’m shaking, shamelessly begging.

“No, baby.” He brushes his lips over my ear. “Not yet. You have another reminder coming, one you’ll never forget.”

He draws me to the bathroom.

I have no idea what’s next, and I look at him quizzically.

He turns on the shower. Steam begins to rise. And I’m so confused I don’t know what to do.

“Get in.” As he issues the order, he opens the linen closet and finds my long-handled bath brush.

“Oh no. No, no, no.”

“Oh yes. Very much so.” He folds his arms. “Now get in, Seraphina.”

I do.

Even though the heat soothes away some of the ache he caused, I’m so focused on him and the bath brush that he’s holding I can’t relax.

“Now that you’re nice and wet, you can get out.” He puts down the implement, turns off the water, and offers his hand.

“Uhm…” I’m confused about what’s going on. “Can I please have a towel?”

“Absolutely not.”

My nipples are hard and puckered, and a combination of anticipation and fear has my insides in knots. “You’re not going to…”

“Oh, yes, Ms. Hollis, I most certainly am.” His eyes are hazy with lust, and beneath his belt, his dick is rock hard.

Even though I’m really nervous about what’s going to happen next, I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.

“Bend over the vanity, Seraphina. I want your breasts smushed against the marble, your legs as far apart as you can get them.”

“Xavier…”

“If you dry off too much, I’ll throw you back in the shower.”

“But… I mean. This is going to hurt.”

“Absolutely it is. Much worse because your skin is wet.”

“I might slip.” But he positions me on a bathmat, and I know he’d never let anything like that happen to me.

“Two seconds, Ms. Hollis. Or your next shower will be cold as fuck. Your choice.”