Page 170 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

"Holy fuck." I stare out of the window at the view of Tower Bridge from the window of Weston's penthouse.

He'd informed me that I was on his guest list, so I could come and go as I please. Also, my fingerprints had been added to the fancy-ass security thingy on the front door to the apartment. So I had to simply touch my palm to the lock pad provided and—wowza!—the door would open to let me in. Oh, he'd let me try it and it had worked on the way in. Woo. That is some fancy shit. The kind of security only the seriously well off could afford.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew he was loaded...and talented, and over-the-top dominant...but this... All this luxury that surrounds me... It’s too much. When we were at the cabin, London had seemed so far away. It had been easy to forget about daily life, my debts, my growing business, the fact that he is so bloody out of my league. And at my apartment... Well, that had been my turf. I had felt more in control maybe... Which is a laugh, considering it has been broken into. It is also the place where he told me he loves me.

"Did you mean what you said?"

I hear the words and curse myself.Why the hell can't you filter your thoughts, bitch? Why is it so important to know what he feels for you?He wants me. He was taking no argument about leaving me behind at the apartment either. So, he lusts after my body... I mean, that's good, right? It's a start. The fact that he finds me attractive? Heat sears my back, then his big arm wraps me around my waist. He pulls me back and flush against his big chest. Instantly, I feel tiny and cherished and taken care of. Big mistake. He is going to lure me in, fuck me senseless, keep me in a sex-induced haze, and when I wake up from it, I will regret every little piece of me I had shared with him.

"Do you actually want to know the answer to your question?"

Of course, he knows what I was referring to... And yeah, I definitely want to know the answer.

"No."

I shake my head.

"Liar," He pulls me close so my back is plastered against his perfect chest. Heat from his body cocoons me, sinks into my blood.

My toes curl. My thighs clench.Get your mind out of the gutter, you slut.“Umm,” I hesitate. "It was nice of you to have a security system put in my flat, and on such short notice."

Yeah, he'd made one phone call and in half an hour, his security consultant had arrived, armed with an array of devices. She'd checked out the place, then rigged it with enough alarms and sensors to satisfy his exacting demands. It had taken less than two hours from start to finish, during which time, Julia and Weston had gotten along well. I'd watched from the sidelines as he'd charmed her, put my friend at ease, so that by the time it was time to leave, she was completely convinced that this was the right move for me. Well, apparently, he saves that hard-headed, demanding alphahole side of his for me... Not that I am complaining. It is part of his appeal—I admit, that firm hand of his is a bloody turn on for me. If only I could always live in this sex-haze of a bubble, huh?

He wraps both of his arms around my shoulders, enveloping me in that gorgeous scent of his. "You're deflecting, babe." He bends to nibble on the shell of my ear.

I shiver.

"Didn't think you were such a coward." He blows in my ear, and I shiver. Bloody hell, with him, every part of me turns into an erogenous zone. Bet I've sprouted nerve endings where none existed before...All the better to sense you with, Mr. Wolf.

He spreads his fingers over my stomach. The width of his palm is so wide that the tip of his thumb brushes the underside of my breast. My nipple instantly pebbles.Stupid, stupid, that I am so responsive to him.

I pull away from him. Of course, he doesn't let me budge, not a millimeter. Against his strength, I am helpless. His force of will, his confidence... How is it possible that he always seems to know what he wants? Unlike me. My entire life is a two steps forward, one back kind of scenario. "Let me go," I mumble.

"Not a chance," he growls. The edge of his voice shivers down my spine, sinks into my center.

"Wes," I plead, "you're making this very hard."

"I'll make it simple." He releases me, only to flip me around. "Look at me."

I stare at his chest, the smattering of hair that peppers the dent between his perfect abs. We'd walked in and I had headed for the view and lost my composure. Now, when I lean in and press my nose into his skin and inhale, notes of sweetness mixed in with his darker scent fills my senses. "You smell like us," I whisper, draw in another breath, then bend and lick him. "You taste like honey and chocolate bomb overlaid with cinnamon and cloves and a dash of vanilla." Yum!

A groan rumbles up his chest.

"Woman you've got to stop comparing me to desserts."

"Oh?" I glance up at him, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day instead?"

"Shakespeare?" He tilts his head.

I stare up at that perfect visage, that strong jaw, the mean upper lip that hints at the dominance inside that drew me to him...those thick eyebrows, the eyelashes that fringe his keen gaze. Everything about him is right, more than right. He is the complete package—he fits me; body, mind and soul, and damn it... This is all wrong. I can never have him, could never keep him. What do I have that could hold his attention? Why does he have to understand me so well? Tears knock against the back of my eyes.

"What's wrong?" He frowns.

"I don't belong here."

"You belong with me.

"I don't want you."