Page 15 of Just The Way You Aren’t (Last Billionaire Standing #1)

Hell, I can’t quite believe I’m really here, either.

As for being into him? Lordy, I couldn’t be more so.

The sad fact is, I was into Damien even when I only considered him a stiff, grumpy billionaire CEO.

In our short time together I’ve seen a whole new side of him—a thoughtful, compassionate side of him that’s made me curious to know more.

But the side of Damien I’m witnessing now is a revelation.

Sexy. Commanding. Hot as fucking sin.

And I can’t get enough.

Whatever it is that’s breaking loose inside me, right now, I'm suddenly tired of being the good girl who always follows someone else's lead.

I take his face in my hands and kiss him, giving his lower lip a soft little nip as I draw away. Before he can react, I've spun us around so he's the one with his back against the door.

The surprise on his face is priceless—his eyes wide, lips parted. Clearly, Damien Langley isn't used to surrendering control. The thought sends a thrill through me.

"What are you—" he starts, but I silence him with my mouth again, pressing my body against his as my hands begin working on his shirt buttons.

"You're not the only one with an imagination," I murmur against his lips, indulging in this wilder side of me. A side of me that I didn’t even know existed until I met him.

I slide my hands inside his half-open shirt, finally touching the muscles I've been imagining for the past week.

God, he's firm—all smooth skin over hard planes of sinew and strength.

His breath hitches as my fingers trace down to his belt. "Willow..."

"Problem?" I ask, glancing up with what I hope is a sultry look, though I'm pretty sure I'm grinning like the cat who got the canary.

"No," he says, his voice strained. "No problem at all."

I continue my exploration, enjoying the small sounds he makes as I trail my fingernails lightly down his chest. When I reach his belt, I work it open with little hesitation, though my fingers aren't quite as steady as I'd like them to be.

He groans when my hand brushes against the hard length of him through his pants. "Fuck. You're killing me."

"That's the idea," I say, mimicking his usual dry tone, which earns me a breathless laugh that transforms into a groan when I cup him through the fabric.

His hard length feels like a column of steel against my palm and fingers.

I moan a little, fighting a ravenous need to have him inside me. As in, now.

His hands, which have been remarkably restrained until now, suddenly spring into action. They slide up my thighs, bunching my dress at my hips. "I need to touch you," he says, voice rough.

"I thought you'd never ask." I guide one of his hands between my legs, where I'm already wet for him.

He makes a sound that's almost a growl when his fingers find me through my panties. “Christ, Willow.”

He strokes me, brushing his touch over my clit and wringing a helpless groan from my mouth. No longer satisfied with caressing me over my panties, he slips his hand inside. His fingertips cleave into my folds and his breath turns ragged and shallow as he plays with my pussy.

The pressure builds low in my belly, a coiling tension that tightens with each expert stroke. When he adds his fingers, curling them inside me while his touch circles my clit, I shatter.

I hope to hell he’s sent his staff home for the night. My cry echoes in the cavernous foyer as my orgasm washes over me in waves, my legs trembling so badly I might have collapsed if not for his steadying hand on my hip.

I grab his shoulders to steady myself, but I’m wobbly on my high heels. As I move, I accidentally send a small crystal figurine on a nearby table crashing to the floor.

We both freeze, then look at each other.

"Was that valuable?" I whisper, mortified.

He glances at the fallen sculpture. "Probably."

"I'm so sorry?—"

"I don't care," he cuts me off, before claiming my mouth again. "I'd sacrifice my entire art collection to keep touching you."

His hand resumes its exploration while he kisses me deeper now. When his fingers find the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center, I gasp against his mouth. One of his fingers slips inside me, then another, and my hips buck involuntarily.

"I need to see you," he whispers against my ear. "All of you."

Before I can respond, he's walking me backward, his mouth never leaving mine. We're headed toward what looks like a plush ottoman in the center of the foyer. My legs hit the edge of it, and he breaks our kiss long enough to tug my dress up and over my head.

I'm suddenly standing in his marble entryway in just my panties and heels, with a priceless oil painting staring down at me from the wall. I should feel exposed, but the way Damien looks at me—like I'm the masterpiece—makes me feel powerful instead.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," he says, voice reverent.

"So are you." I finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it off his shoulders. "But you still have too many clothes on. "

He grins and quickly rectifies the situation, shucking his pants and boxer briefs in one efficient movement. And... wow. Damien Langley naked is a sight to behold. He's all lean muscle and perfect proportions, like some sort of Greek sculpture come to life.

I must be staring, because he raises an eyebrow. "Like what you see?"

“Oh, yes.” I pull him close for another kiss, gasping as our bare skin touches for the first time. The feel of him, hard and hot against my stomach, sends a fresh wave of desire through me.

"Wait," I gasp, suddenly remembering something important. "Are you... I mean, should you get...?"

He pauses, his expression clearing as he understands. "Protection. Right. Are you on the pill?"

"Yes, but..."

"I get tested regularly," he assures me. "And it's been..." He looks almost shy for a moment. "It's been a while, actually."

"Me too," I admit, surprised by his confession. "I'm clean too."

"Good." His smile turns heated again. "Because I don't want anything between us."

"Not even these?" I ask, hooking my thumbs into my panties.

His answer is to help me slide them down my legs, leaving me in nothing but my heels. I don't have time to feel self-conscious because his hands are immediately on me again, his eyes drinking in every inch of my exposed skin.

In one fluid motion, he guides me backward until my back meets the wall beside the door. The cool surface against my heated skin makes me gasp, creating a delicious contrast with the heat of his body as he presses against my front .

"Is this what you want?" he asks, his breath hot against my neck.

"Yes," I whisper, wrapping one leg around his hip to bring him closer. "Please, Damien."

He positions himself at my entrance, one hand braced against the wall beside my head, the other gripping my thigh to hold my leg in place. Our eyes lock as he pushes into me in one long, slow thrust that has both of us gasping.

"Fuck," he breathes, his composure completely shattered now. "You feel amazing. So tight."

For a moment, he doesn't move, giving me time to adjust to the fullness. Then I rock against him impatiently, and whatever restraint he's been clinging to snaps. He withdraws almost completely before driving back in, setting a pace that's just shy of punishing.

The wooden door creaks nearby as he pins me against the wall, his hips pistoning in a steady rhythm that hits exactly the right spot.

My nails dig into his shoulders as I cling to him, my other leg now joining the first around his waist. He supports my weight easily, his hands gripping my thighs as he drives into me.

"Yes," I gasp as he shifts angles slightly, hitting deeper. "Right there."

He responds by pressing me harder against the wall, holding me open for him as he increases his pace. Every thrust pushes me higher, building toward a peak I hadn't thought possible so soon after our foreplay.

"I've thought about this every day," he confesses against my ear, his voice a rough whisper. "What it would feel like being inside you. I knew it would be good, but... damn."

The image of him fantasizing about me while I was busy thinking he was an uptight jerk is enough to push me closer to the edge. "Damien," I warn, feeling the tension building. "I can't hold back."

"Let go," he commands, his rhythm faltering as his own control slips. "Come for me."

His words, combined with the delicious friction of him moving inside me, send me careening over the edge.

I cry out as my orgasm crashes through me, more intense than I could have imagined.

He follows moments later, burying his face in my neck as he shudders against me, his grip on my thighs almost painful.

For several long moments, we stay like that, tangled together against his wall, breathing hard. His weight pins me in place, but I don't mind. I'm not entirely sure my legs would support me anyway.

When he finally lifts his head, there's a dazed quality to his expression that fills me with feminine satisfaction. Damien Langley, disheveled and breathless because of me.

"What do you think of my place?" he asks, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

I pretend to consider this, even as I'm acutely aware of him still inside me, my legs still wrapped around him, both of us panting and naked in his marble foyer.

"I really like this wall," I reply, shifting slightly against it for emphasis. "Sturdy. Excellent support."

His laugh is unexpected and genuine, transforming his face completely. He presses his forehead against mine, suddenly looking boyish despite our decidedly adult activities.

"I should probably be a good host and show you the rest of the house," he says, making no move to disentangle us. "We can start with my bedroom."

I trail my fingers down his chest, feeling his heart still racing beneath my palm. "Lead the way. I can't wait to see what other surfaces we can test out."

The challenge in my voice makes his eyes darken again, and I know we're in for a long night. As it turns out, Damien Langley's intimidating exterior hides a man who knows exactly how to make a girl forget all of her inhibitions—along with her panties.