Page 13 of Single Dad’s Fake Bride (Billionaire Baby Daddies #7)

She searched my face for something I wasn't sure I could give her. "This is crazy…" she mumbled, and the air crackled between us. She was right. It was insane for the chemistry to sizzle so much in such a short time.

"Yes."

"We barely know each other."

"I know enough."

"Do you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Because I don't think I know anything about you, really.

" Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine and my eyes dropped to her lips, full and plump and probably salty with tears.

I wanted to lick them clean, and yet I wanted to respect the fact that this was happening way too fast.

"This doesn't have to mean anything…" I told her. "We're adults, and we're both single, and…"

"It doesn't have to mean anything," she repeated softly, reaching up to run her hand across the stubble on my cheek.

But even as she said it, I knew it was a lie. When she kissed me—or maybe I kissed her, I couldn't tell who moved first—it changed something inside me. Her mouth was soft and urgent against mine, and when I deepened the kiss, she responded with a hunger that matched my own.

I pushed my chair back, lips never leaving hers, and pulled her up with me. Her breath caught against my mouth, a soft hum escaping before she whispered, “You’re not letting go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” I murmured into the kiss, the words brushing her lips as I drew her closer.

She rose on her toes, pressing into me. “Good,” she breathed, her fingers sliding into my hair.

I guided her backward, our steps awkward only because neither of us was willing to separate. The table edge bumped my hip, and she gave a muffled laugh against my mouth.

“Living room,” I said, my hand finding the curve of her waist.

“Mmm,” she agreed, the sound vibrating between us. “Lead the way.”

We moved through the archway, our mouths molding together in slow, heated pulls. My palm spread over her lower back, easing her toward the couch.

“You’re in a hurry,” she teased, lips brushing mine with every syllable.

“Not fast enough,” I answered, kissing her deeper until she clung to me.

Her laugh melted into a sigh as we stopped at the couch, my hands anchoring her close, the kiss still unbroken and growing hotter with every heartbeat.

She sank onto the couch beneath me, pulling me down with her, our mouths still fused in that same relentless kiss.

My hands framed her face, then slid to her neck, tracing the flutter of her pulse before gliding down to the delicate curve of her shoulder.

She felt so young under my touch—full of unspent years and possibilities.

Did she notice the difference between us? The silver creeping in at my temples, the years of responsibility etched into my hands? I’d lived more life than she’d even had time to imagine, and yet here she was, holding me like she wanted every bit of it.

Her breath hitched against my mouth. “You kiss like you’ve done this a hundred times,” she murmured, voice warm and teasing.

“A hundred?” My lips brushed hers in the barest pause. “Try a thousand.”

She smiled into the next kiss, her fingers sliding up my chest. “Good. I like experienced.”

The words went straight through me. My hand found her thigh, easing the fabric higher as her body shifted closer. Her mouth never left mine, and neither of us bothered pretending we wanted to slow down.

Her dress bunched under my palm, the smooth fabric giving way to softer heat beneath. She shifted, one knee drawing up against my hip, and the motion pulled me deeper into her. Her fingers were in my hair now, holding me there, as if breaking the kiss wasn’t an option either of us would consider.

I traced the inside of her thigh, feeling the faint tremor that answered my touch.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought about how reckless this was—how I should be thinking about tomorrow, about what this would mean.

But with her pressed beneath me, her heartbeat matching mine, I couldn’t make myself care.

Her mouth brushed my ear. “I want you to touch me.”

“You already have me touching you,” I murmured, my hand sliding higher until she gasped.

“More,” she said, her voice catching. “All of you.”

The words lit something primal in me. I pushed the hem of her dress higher, exposing the length of her thighs, then guided her hips against mine.

She arched into me, her breath breaking against my neck as I moved between her knees.

My shirt was next. Her hands were already pushing it up, hungry to feel more skin.

I let her take it off me, my shirt falling somewhere behind the couch as her palms skimmed my chest. Her touch was tentative for half a second, then bolder, mapping the lines of muscle and the trail of hair leading lower.

I caught her mouth again, tasting the heat she’d built between us, and my hand slid up her thigh until I could feel the damp heat waiting for me through the thin barrier of lace.

She trembled under my fingers, and I pressed my palm against her, teasing the shape of her until she made a sound that went straight to my spine. I shifted my weight, one knee braced on the couch, the other foot planted so I could fit against her better.

“Take it off,” she whispered, tugging at my belt.

My pulse kicked hard. I reached beneath her, my hands curling under the small of her back to lift her just enough to slide her dress over her hips and up.

She helped me, tossing it free, leaving her in a bra and those black lace panties that were already doing nothing to hide how badly she wanted this.

I shoved my pants and briefs down in one motion, freeing myself, and her eyes dropped, widening slightly before they came back to mine. I caught her by the waist and pulled her toward me, her thighs opening to take me in.

I didn’t waste time—didn’t want to. Hooking a finger in her panties, I dragged them aside and pressed into her in one long stroke. Her head fell back against the couch, lips parting in a gasp that I swallowed with my next kiss.

“God,” she breathed, nails digging into my shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

I pressed deeper, holding there, letting her feel every inch before drawing back slowly. Her thighs tightened around me, and I felt her breath hitch against my mouth.

“You feel that?” I murmured.

Her nails traced down my ribs, catching on my waistband. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I like it.”

“Good,” I said, thrusting again—slow at first, just enough to make her hips lift to meet me. “Because I’m not stopping until you can’t remember your own name.”

She gave a shaky laugh that turned into a gasp when my thumb found her clit, rubbing in slow circles. Her head tipped back, eyes closing, and I kissed along her jaw to her throat, feeling the pulse jump under my mouth.

“Tell me you want more,” I said against her skin.

“I want more,” she whispered, breathless now.

“Say it like you mean it.”

Her hips rolled against mine, needy, her voice breaking. “I want more.”

I rewarded her with a harder thrust, my hand bracing the back of the couch for leverage. The angle had her panting, her nails digging into my shoulders as she rocked with me.

“That’s it,” I coaxed, watching her face—eyes glassy, lips parted, flushed in all the right places. “Don’t hold back.”

Her breath caught again, legs tightening around me. I kept the pressure steady, working her higher, letting the tension build instead of breaking too soon.

“Almost there?” I asked.

She nodded, unable to speak, and I kissed her hard, my tongue tangling with hers as I kept her right on the edge.

“Then come for me,” I growled. “Now.”

Her body went rigid beneath me, a sharp cry breaking from her lips as she came, clenching around me so tight it nearly undid me. I kept my hand on her, working her through it, each ripple pulling another gasp from her throat.

“That’s it,” I coaxed, my mouth at her ear. “So pretty when you come for me.”

She whimpered, still shaking, but I didn’t let up. My thumb stayed on her clit, slower now, drawing lazy circles that made her hips twitch.

“Too much,” she breathed.

I nipped at her neck. “One more. I want to feel you lose it again.”

Her hands gripped my biceps, trying to steady herself as I started moving harder, deeper, the wet sound of us filling the space between her quiet moans.

“You like that?” I demanded.

“Yes.”

“You want more?”

“Yes,” she gasped, and I felt her pulse against my fingers, the tension building fast.

“Then give it to me. Come again.” I pressed harder, grinding my hips so she felt me everywhere at once.

Her back arched, her cry muffled against my shoulder as the second orgasm hit—stronger, messier, her whole body shuddering under mine.

“Christ,” I groaned, holding her through it, feeling every desperate squeeze. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

When she finally sagged back, breathless and wrecked, I kissed her slowly, letting the taste of her and the heat between us keep me right on the edge.

I braced one hand on the couch beside her head, driving into her harder now, chasing the release that had been clawing at me since the first time she moaned my name. Her legs stayed locked around my hips, keeping me deep, every thrust met with the hot, slick grip of her still-pulsing body.

“You feel what you’re doing to me?” I growled, my forehead pressed to hers.

“Yes,” she whispered, her nails scraping over my shoulders. “Don’t stop. I want all of it.”

“You’re gonna get it,” I promised, my pace turning relentless. Each time I bottomed out, her breath caught, her lips parting in a sound that made my control slip further.

She tilted her hips to meet me, a needy, perfect angle that had me gritting my teeth. “God, you’re tight,” I bit out. “I’m not gonna last.”

“Then give it to me,” she urged, her voice a breathless dare. “I want to feel you come inside me.”