Page 13 of The Reluctant Billionaire (Love in London #5)

Lotta

I release him and take a step back, crossing my arms in front of me so I can tug my oversized Venus t-shirt over my head and chuck it in the far corner of the room.

‘What are you doing?’ he mutters, his gaze roving over my chest, with which he’s now perfectly at eye-level. He presses his hands to his thighs, palms down, fingers splayed in a way that feels intentional. Like a predator trying to talk himself out of attacking.

‘Giving that brain of yours something else to obsess about,’ I tell him. ‘Watch.’

I cross my arms again and pull my white t-shirt up, shaking out my hair as I pull my top all the way off. Aide’s sharp intake of breath when he finds himself at eye-level with and inches away from my boobs encased in their pale pink, lacy bra is the best sound I have ever heard.

‘Jesus fuck,’ he groans. ‘Oh my God.’ I doubt he’s aware of it, but his hands go straight to grip my hips, holding me in place through my cut-offs.

His breath is warm on my breasts. His face is anguished. His fingers dig into my hips. And I want this man’s mouth on my nipples like I’ve never wanted anything in my entire, charmed life.

‘Take off my bra,’ I tell him.

His laugh is choked. ‘No, Carlotta, I?—’

Fine. If he’s going to go all shy on me, I’ll take matters into my own hands. I reach behind and unhook my bra, letting its straps slide down my arms before it lands on his thigh. He doesn’t bat an eyelid, because his stare is fixated on my now-bare breasts.

‘Oh my God,’ he says again. He pants out a breath. ‘Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful. Jesus Christ.’ His words are slurred already, and all he’s done is look.

I know objectively I have great boobs. They’re decent-sized and pert and shapely and fabulous.

But I have never in my life wanted a man to appreciate them like I do now.

I want him to adore them. Worship them. I want them to give him everything he needs in this moment.

And I’m not sure my nipples have ever been pinched so tight. So aching.

I want him to go to fucking town on them , like he threatened to the other day.

I put my hands on his shoulders. He’s wearing one of his sexy builder-vests, and under my palms his shoulders are huge and taut, the skin smooth. ‘I want you to touch me, Aide,’ I tell him. ‘I really, really need you to touch them.’

‘Oh fuck,’ he rasps, and it has my lady parts clenching madly under my shorts. He looks up at me, his eyes dark and hooded, his lips parted. If this is the way he looks before he touches a woman, I can’t begin to imagine how he looks when he’s inside her.

Just imagining that feels unwise.

Dangerous.

Because a mere look like this, from a man like this, isn’t something you recover from easily.

‘You sure?’ he mouths, his fingers flexing around my hips, and I give them a little thrust in his direction.

‘Please,’ I beg. I’m standing here with my boobs out for him, my skin bare, and his breath warm on them, and his mouth so close it’s torture.

He slides his hands up my sides. They’re warm, and his fingers are calloused, and they send a scatter of goosebumps over my skin and a flurry of butterflies through my stomach.

His eyes flick back up to my face one more time. I suspect what he sees there is the equivalent of a big fat yes please tattooed across my forehead, because he allows his hands to skate higher until they’re framing my boobs and his thumbs are stroking along the creases of their undersides.

I groan, because his touch, and the anticipation of more of it, is already igniting me. My noise seems to catalyse him. He dips that dark head and runs his nose and lips over my skin, back and forth over my décolletage and the tops of my boobs before he kisses right between them.

I grip his shoulders harder in encouragement, and he acts.

His mouth moves to my right nipple. He teases it with the tip of his tongue before taking the entire thing in his mouth and sucking hard.

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

The pleasure is so instant, so intense, that I gasp aloud and arch into him, stroking my hands over his shoulders before letting one get tangled up in his hair again.

My encouragement seems to stoke him. He continues to suck, to tease my nipple with his mouth, his teeth catching it lightly so he can strum at it with his tongue, while he palms my other breast. Kneads it.

Rolls my nipple around under his calloused skin.

His other hand finds my back again, and he splays his huge fingers across me as it roams up and down my spine.

I’m lost in a stupor of sensation. My legs are shaking, and I’m conscious only of Aide’s touch.

Of where he’s devouring my skin with his mouth and his hands.

He makes ravenous humming noises at the back of his throat, and I press against him harder, clutching his head to my body and gasping whenever his mouth switches nipples.

He was right the other day. I could come just from this.

I totally could, and I possibly will. It seems I’m not the only one being wound higher and higher, because next thing he’s pushing off the desk and standing, dragging his mouth from my chest and up my neck, teeth and lips and tongue exploring me, his breath coming in harsh bursts.

He wraps me in his arms, one arm banding tightly around my shoulders as the other one finds my shorts and cups my bum.

Hard. As he holds me flush against him, I have the singular, exquisite pleasure of being surrounded by Aide.

Completely consumed by him. Most pressingly, his dick is rock hard and wedged against me, the fabric of his work trousers rough against my bare stomach.

His heart is hammering against me, as I suspect mine is against him.

The hand around my shoulders finds my hair and fists it, tugging my face upwards.

I’m treated for a second to the glorious, otherworldly sight of this godlike man staring down at me with starvation and awe wrought in every gorgeous feature, and I gaze back with what must be utter adoration, because I am gone.

And then his mouth is upon me, hot and hungry, and I’m really, really gone, because it seems Aide’s found his stride.

It seems he’s finally unleashing himself, unleashing himself upon me , and I know I will take every last morsel this man is prepared to give me.

Even if it slays me. Even if he pushes me to my limits, and stretches me, and challenges me, and demands every last ounce of my strength, I will take it all.

And I will give him everything.

His mouth is soft and hard all at once. His beard is ticklish and abrasive against my lips, my chin, and all I can think is I need that between my legs.

There’s no hesitation now.

No restraint.

No barely there self-control.

No poor attempt at manners.

It’s all gone, blown to smithereens, and all that’s left in its place is Aide’s unsated appetite.

His tongue thrusts straight into my mouth, and I groan and arch my hips as hard against his erection as I can while my tongue fights with his.

We entangle, and dance, and spar. The sensation of being overpowered by him is like nothing I’ve ever known.

I wriggle with need against him, my bare boobs squished against his hard chest, the fine ribbing of his vest rubbing at my nipples exactly the way I need.

He responds by grabbing my bum harder, his fingers stretching low and burrowing under the frayed hem of my cutoffs so he can dig them right into the crease where my cheek meets my thigh.

I need them further up. Further in. I want him to consume me with his tongue and his fingers and his dick. I want to be conscious of nothing else on this earth but this man.

I tug at his hair and kiss him harder, moaning into his mouth, and he makes a pleased, approving noise in response that nearly undoes me.

I’m desperate for as much of him as I can get, desperate to make it count.

He tastes of whisky and he smells incredible: sweat, and hard work, and so many sex hormones that I feel like a mare in heat.

I manage to get my other hand under the hem of his vest, and my fingertips encounter sweat-slicked skin.

He releases my mouth and tugs at my hair again, this time to pull my head to one side. Then he’s kissing back down my neck and pulling away enough to wedge his hands between us. ‘Look at me,’ he says, his voice low. Rough.

I open my eyes and gaze up at him in a fog of lust. His lips are wet and swollen, his eyes glazed and hooded.

‘How’s this?’ he asks. He cups both my boobs and strums his thumbs over my nipples again.

I knit my brows together at the unutterable pleasure that is Aide touching me with those big, calloused thumbs while staring right into my eyes.

The intensity is overwhelming. I’m laid bare for only him to see.

‘Amazing,’ I tell him huskily. ‘Harder.’

His answering smile is smug, and I fucking love it. ‘That’s my girl,’ he says softly, and he ups the ante, pinching my nipples hard as he watches my face. ‘Think you can come like this?’

‘I know I can,’ I tell him on a gasp, ‘but I’d much rather you played with my clit, too.’

He chokes out a pained laugh. ‘I bet you would. I can’t wait to see what you look like when you come.’

‘I can’t wait to see what you look like when you come all over my tits,’ I retort, and he shakes his head like he just can’t handle that idea.

Like it’s a bad idea for us to even go there.

He releases one nipple and goes to unbutton the flies of my cutoffs but, before he can, there’s a loud rap at the door that has us both jumping out of our skin.

‘Aide?’ Sylvie cries. ‘You ready to dish up?’

‘Fuck,’ I whisper. She has got to be kidding me. This is the worst timing ever. I look around on the floor for my bra.

‘Jesus,’ Aidan curses under his breath. He looks as gutted as I feel, which is something, at least. ‘Give me five minutes,’ he shouts at the door. ‘I’m on a call.’

‘Okay,’ she sing-songs.

I look up at him.

He looks down at my bare boobs.

‘I need to go,’ he tells me.

‘I know,’ I say. ‘It’s cool.’

It’s stupid, but I feel bereft. Like this fragile intimacy between me and a man who otherwise refuses to give me the time of day has been snapped. Broken. Like we only got this tiny fragment of time, and it’s already dissipated, and he’ll be back to giving me the cold shoulder in the morning, and?—

My thought process stops right there, because he’s gathering me up in his arms and kissing me again, smoothing my hair down my back in firm strokes.

I lean into him. Into the hungry glides of his mouth.

The decisive tautness of his tongue inside my mouth.

Into this feeling of being tiny, and desirable, and bare, and completely engulfed in Aide’s huge arms.

Most of all, I lean into the heady relief of knowing that, right at this second, he has no regrets. That Sylvia’s abrupt interruption was as unwelcome to him as it was to me.

That he’s not leaping away from me in horror, or coming to his senses just yet.

I loop my hands lazily around his neck, fondling the clasp of his silver chain with my fingertips. ‘Do you want some help with the food?’ I ask, because I really, really don’t want to walk away from him.

He smiles lazily against my lips. To have made him smile, to have taken him out of his head for a few minutes, makes my heart happy.

‘Not a good idea,’ he murmurs. He nudges me gently with his erection.

‘Can’t serve the kids with a raging boner, and I can’t get rid of it if you and your tits are hanging around, can I? ’

‘I see your point,’ I whisper, pleased that he’s admitting I affect him like that.

Pleased that I might continue to affect him after we leave this room. After I walk away.

I kiss him once more before extricating myself and hunting around for my bra. He gets to it first and holds it up for me like a gentleman helping a lady on with her coat. I put my arms out, and he slides it on me before moving behind me and scooping my hair over my shoulder.

‘Very pretty bra,’ he says against my ear, his fingers lingering against my back after he’s fastened it. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t think I’ve remotely finished with you.’