Page 106 of The Billionaire's Bride

"Oh?"

"If you were, you wouldn't be glaring at me like you'd like to spank me and kiss me simultaneously."

My cock twitches; my groin hardens. The thought of marking that sweet curved backside of hers, right before I turn her over and bury my face in her melting core—I stiffen, and no, I don’t mean only my dick. I square my shoulders, crack my neck. "Nice dialogue—" I drawl, "but it's too late."

"It’s not."

"It's time you took that sweet tush of yours out of here."

"Not yet." She places her bag on the counter, pulls out her phone and places it face-up. Then swipes across the screen. She pulls up a playlist.

"What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago."

She digs in her bag, pulls out her hip scarf and ties it around her hips. The material clings to her luscious curves, emphasizes the tiny span of her waist. She takes a few steps back into the center of her room, and juts out a hip. She places a hand on it, then tips her chin up, "Can you press play, please?"

38

Ava

His blue eyes glower as he eats me up with his gaze. The skin around his eyes tightens and his lips thin.

"Please," I urge him. "Please hit play."

"No," he snaps, and I draw in a breath.Fine, I can do without the music.

I bend my knee to drop the hip. The tiny coins at the edge of the hip scarf jingle. I straighten the knee to lift the hip, keep my knees soft and centered. Drop hip downward, then flow into a heavy deep-seated drop. Every tiny move is amplified by the sound of the coins rubbing against each other.

His chest rises and falls. He leans forward, his gaze captured. He watches my every step as I rise up and into a lighter half-drop. I trace a circle with my hip, out to the side, then back, then pull into my center.

I keep circling, keep an open connection between my hip and heart, drawing energy in my movement. Keep everything supple and flowing, allow the energy to flow around my body.

I sense him walk around to stand in front of the bar. Good. He's caught in the energy, the rush of the performance. As am I.

I lift my hip upward and slightly forward, activate the outside of my thigh and hip to give the movement oomph. Drop slightly, then lift.

He takes a step closer, leans forward on the balls of his feet.

I bring my shoulders up together, then let both go. Another fast shoulder drop, while swaying my body from side-to-side. I ground my feet and shift my weight to the side, push my hips back, then round to the other side.

I peek up at him from under my eyelashes, and flinch. The coldness in his arctic eyes—it’s freezing. His gaze intensifies. I hold the connection, refuse to look away as I move into a figure eight. I twist my hip forward, shift the weight onto the front of the foot, then turn the foot and the hip inward.

He swallows, clenching his hands into fists.

I twist my hips inward, then out again. I lift and drop, lift and drop again. Shimmy shoulders, undulate my waist, as I flow into a figure eight, this time in the vertical direction. Keeping my movements fluid, I channel the energy from my belly. Again. And again.

Sweat beads his forehead. The skin around his lips whitens. I twirl my fingers, beckon to him, and he takes a step forward, and another. I reel him in and he closes the distance between us. He glares down at me as I hold up both of my arms, lean my torso forward. My breasts brush his chest and he hisses.

"I need you, Baron." I tip my chin up, and his lips firm.

"You're stretching my patience." His jaw tics and a nerve throbs at his temple. His blue eyes deepen into that almost cerulean color that takes my breath away.

"Fuck," he growls. "F-u-c-k."

"Yes, please." I widen my legs, shimmy down his length in a wide plié squat. I lower my butt until I almost touch the floor. Then gaze up at him from under my eyelashes. His glare intensifies and his chest heaves. The blue in his eyes is stormy, tortured, tormented. Tension rolls off of him; the force of his dominance pins me in place, and I stay there, poised. A beat, then another. My throat dries, my thigh muscles protest, but still, I don’t move.

The band around my chest tightens, my leg muscles scream at me to move. I begin to straighten and he clicks his tongue. "Don’t even think about it," he growls.