Page 12 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire

The idea unsettled him—but he still wanted her. Desperately. He didn’t know what it was about her that made him feel off-kilter, as if he were trying to walk on a surface that wasn’t quite solid.

He studied her, watching as she spooned a bite of tiramisu into her mouth with a soft, indulgent moan that nearly drove him insane.

Focus, Theo.

He cleared his throat. “What do you do for a living?”

She glanced at him, mid-chew, and shrugged with deliberate casualness. “I’m a bit of a jack-of-all-trades.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Her smile returned—mischievous, knowing, laced with something deeper he couldn’t quite touch. She licked her lips, laughing silently when she noticed him following the movement.

“Do you know what a jack-of-all-trades is?” she asked, lifting her chin.

Before he could respond, she deliberately took another slow bite of her dessert. Parting her lips slightly before she licked them again.

“You missed a spot,” he said, his voice low, his gaze flicking to the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes stayed locked on his as she lifted her fingers and touched her lips. “Where?”

He leaned in closer.

“Let me,” he murmured.

His hand lifted before he could stop it, brushing lightly along her jaw with his thumb, catching the imaginary speck of cream. Her breath hitched.

So did his.

He didn’t move.

Neither did she.

Time seemed to slow around them—the air charged, as if reality itself was holding its breath.

She lifted her fingers to his lips.

“One kiss. You can only have one,” she murmured before sliding her hand along his jaw to his nape and meeting him halfway.

Their mouths touched like a match being struck—soft at first, then catching fire.

Her lips were warm and slightly sticky from the tiramisu. She tasted like sweet coffee and sin. He deepened the kiss with aching restraint, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, cradling her like something precious. And it was that lightning strike all over again—only this time, it didn’t stop at his chest.

She responded—not shyly, but with a confident curiosity that made his knees tighten beneath the table. Their mouths moved together in perfect sync—exploring, teasing, testing the edges of restraint.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a detonation.

Everything else faded.

The music. The people. The room.

There was just her. Just this.

And then—chaos.

A shriek.

A crash.