Page 224 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

Her lips part. Her pupils dilate. Color floods her cheeks.

She leans in, and I’m sure she’s going to kiss me.

Instead, her palm connects with my cheek.

My face snaps to the side, not because there’s much force behind it but because she caught me by surprise.

Anger thrums at my nerve endings. That mean ugliness that I manage to rein in most of the time swirls to the surface.

Take off your top. Pull your breasts up above your bra-cups. Hold them together so I can fuck the valley between your breasts.

I shake my head to clear it. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Her green eyes blaze fire. "You leave me without a word. There’s no phone call from you. I have to get updates of your whereabouts from your bodyguard—"

"Your bodyguard, actually."

"There’s nothing on your social media."

"Oh, so you scanned my social media?" Some of the anger abates and is replaced by an emotion very close to exaltation. Huh?

"Stop smirking, you stronzo. You took my virginity, and then you didn’t have the decency to talk to me after that."

"I thought you’d need time to recuperate from how—"

"How?"

"—how rough I was with you." My neck heats. I’m not going to apologize for taking her virginity. It’s who I am. I want something, I grab it for myself. I don’t wait. It’s who I am. So why do I feel regret for not taking it slower with her? I rise to my feet, and she jumps up onto the couch.

"Are you apologizing?" She arches an eyebrow.

"What if I am?" I scowl.

"Then you need to say it aloud."

I fold my arms across my chest. "I’m not sorry I took your virginity. I’m glad I was your first.”

She tips up her chin. "I still don’t hear it."

"I’m sorry if I wasn’t gentle with you. But I’m not sorry if it caused you pain."

"What?" She gapes. "You’re not?"

"The more the pain, the more the pleasure, don’t you know that?"

"Is that the story you sadists tell yourselves?" She huffs.

I look at her with interest. "You been reading the spicy books I bought you, Rabbit?"

She flushes. "They're books."

"And hopefully, they provided you a quick education, which"—I widen my smirk—"I do believe they have."

She plants her palms on her hips. "I thought this was an apology?"

"I’m sorry I left you so suddenly and that I didn’t contact you. And I’m sorry you had to find me in the Club with no introduction to that part of my life. But I’m not sorry for fucking you."

Her flush deepens; her lips part. The pulse at the base of her throat picks up speed.

Fucking hell, she’s aroused. And all because I used that four-letter word?

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she shivers.

Yep, definitely aroused. I move closer, until my torso brushes against hers. A tiny whine spills from her lips.

"If I were to push my hand between your legs, would I find you wet and aching and throbbing for me?"

"Guess you’ll have to find out."

She tips up her chin, and I lower mine. At the sound of buzzing, she stiffens. "That’s my phone," she murmurs.

"Ignore it." I cup her cheek; her chest rises and falls.

I brush my lips over hers, share her sweet breath, and the blood drains to my groin. I grip her butt and pull her into me. She yelps, then grips my shoulders to right herself.

The buzzing fades away.

I bite down on her lower lip. She opens her mouth, and I sweep my tongue over hers.

She digs her fingernails through the fabric of my sweatshirt and into my skin.

I feel the pinch all the way to the crown of my cock.

I tilt my head, kiss her deeply, sucking on her tongue, drawing in the honeyed taste of her.

A groan rumbles up my chest. She pushes her pelvis into the hard column in my crotch.

She chafes against it. I squeeze her arse-cheeks, and another shudder ladders up her spine.

"Fucking hell, Rabbit, I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

I release my hold on her butt, only to pinch her chin and hold her face in position as I deepen the kiss.

The scent of her, the taste of her, the need for her twists my guts.

That’s when the buzzing of the phone starts again.

I ignore it, continuing to suck on her tongue.

My heartbeat ratchets up. The pulse bangs at my temples. Bang-bang-bang.

Bang-Bang-Bang. There’s a knock on the door. "Declan, we need to speak." Rick’s voice cuts through the sexual haze that grips me.

I manage to drag my mouth from her and lean my forehead against hers. "Fuck." I stare into her dilated pupils. "We’ll continue this later."

She stares up at me.

"You okay, baby?" I murmur.

She nods.

I brush my lips over hers again. Our mouths cling. I deepen the kiss when—"Declan! It’s urgent." Rick bangs on the door again.

I tear my mouth away from her again. "One second," I yell in the direction of the door, then step back and look her up and down. "Where’s your dressing gown?"

"Eh?" She blinks. “I’m wearing a perfectly decent pair of shorts and T-shirt.”

"Your shorts are too short.”

“What?” She gapes.

I pivot, walk over to the closet and survey the contents.

Shit, I should have taken her shopping before I left.

Well, this time, I’m going to do things right.

I turn, pull off my sweatshirt and walk over to her, pulling it down over her shoulders.

She must be too dazed from the kiss—not complaining about that—for she thrusts her arms through the sleeves.

I smooth the fabric down over her hips. It comes to mid-thigh and engulfs her.

"I look ridiculous,”

Her phone stops buzzing, then starts again.

"You look…" —like mine. "Good in my clothes."

She scoffs, then rolls up her sleeves, before jumping down from the couch. I walk over to her bed and scoop up her phone. Disconnecting Harry's call, I head toward the door and swing it open.

"Finally, fuck." Rick looks from me to her, then takes in the curtained windows. "The drones are taken care of."

"Good."

"We have bigger problems," he warns.

"Ain’t that the truth." I hold out my hand to her. "Ready for what’s coming?"

"No, absolutely not." I glare at my team. "I’m not putting her in front of the cameras."

We’re in my living room, and thanks to some quick thinking on Rick’s part, we’ve managed to get injunctions against any kind of aerial intrusion of my airspace.

Fucking hell, I’ve never had an issue with the paps using drones to monitor my movements, but even if they had I wouldn’t have cared about it.

But I’ve never had to protect someone else from their encroachment, either.

Turns out, I’ll do anything to protect her from that bunch.

Giorgina folds her arms across her chest. "Newsflash: She’s already put herself in front of the cameras. It’s what caused this entire pisspot of a disaster."

"Hey, don’t talk about me like I’m not here." Solene jumps up from the sofa where she’s seated next to me. "I can make up my own mind about my future."

"Can you?" Giorgina looks at me then back at her. "You might want to talk to your boyfriend about that."

"He’s not my boyfriend," she bursts out.

"Not what the evidence suggests,” she drawls.

Harry pushes the door open and steps in. Rick who’s been positioned next to the doorway, steps in front of him.

"I’m her manager." Harry's jowls shiver as he swallows. "I… I was invited to join the meeting."

"He’s right, I texted him." I wave my hand, and Rick steps aside.

"You texted him? You texted my manager?" Solene turns on me.

"Much as I hate his weaselly arse, he is the best in the business, and you need someone to watch out for what’s best for your career."

"I can’t believe you’d speak to my manager without consulting me."

"Don’t think I’m going to consult you before I do what’s best for you," I growl.

She narrows her gaze on me. She’s standing over me, and considering how pint-sized she is, it doesn’t give her much of an advantage in height.

"Give me my phone." She holds out her hand.

I widen the space between my legs and throw my arms over the back of the couch.

Her lips thin. "No one decides what’s best for me. Not you. Not Harry. I decide for myself. Only I know what’s on my mind; not anyone else."

I scowl at her. "I know this city and this industry. I’ve been in showbiz for almost a decade. I can help you navigate the fallout from your overnight success."

"And I don’t doubt that. In fact, I welcome it. I’m more grateful than you’ll ever know that you flew out in the middle of your shoot to come see me. You’re here when I need you most, but—" She squares her shoulders. "But the final decision is mine. Not my manager’s, or my boyfriend’s, but mine."

"Ah, so you accept that I’m your boyfriend?”

She flushes then stabs her sneaker-clad toes into the floor. "I’m living with you. I put up a video, and the paps traced me to your home. I’m not sure what else to call you."

I hold out my hand, palm face up. She glances at it for a few seconds, then slowly places her much smaller palm in mine.

I tug on her hand, and she tumbles into my lap.

She yelps and tries to pull away, but I wrap my arm about her shoulders.

"I’ll never say or do anything that will hurt you.

I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you’re protected.

I’ll put an end to anyone who dares do anything to compromise you. This, I promise."

Her eyes grow bright. She sniffles and whispers, "Th-th-thank you."

"You’re welcome." I pull out her phone and hold it out. She pockets it, then throws her arms about my neck and presses her lips to mine. Of course, I deepen the kiss. I tilt my head, open my mouth over hers and suck on her tongue.

Harry clears his throat. "That’s touching, but we still haven’t worked out how we're going to deal with the fallout from her going against my recommendations."

She breaks away from the kiss and glances at him. "You mean the eight million and counting views of my video?"

He runs his finger under his collar. "It’s an unprecedented accomplishment, I grant you, but it might have been even better received if you’d followed my advice."

“Are you referring to your recommendation of making my song more mainstream?” She scoffs.

Harry swallows, then squares his shoulders, “I stand by what I said.”

“And I appreciate it. I do, but...”

“But?” he scowls.

“But—"She jumps up from my lap, pulls down the sweatshirt—my sweatshirt—over her hips, then walks over to him. "Who am I?" she asks him.

"Excuse me?"

"Who am I, Harry?" she asks in a voice dripping with exaggerated patience.

"You’re Solene."

"And what am I in relation to you?"

He frowns. "My client?"

"Bingo. And you’re my manager. And if you want to get the credit for being the person who discovered the hottest talent in town, then I recommend you shut your trap and understand, while I value your advice, the final word is mine."

He seems taken aback, then slowly nods.

"Benissimo, I think we finally understand each other." She leans in and plants a kiss on his cheek.

Harry flushes, then thrusts out his chest. "Of course we do."

"Bene." She turns to me and asks, "What’s next?"