Page 42 of Undeniably Unexpected (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires #6)

I stand on the balcony, the night air cool against my flushed skin, the words "I love you" still hanging between us like a spell neither of us expected to cast. Loomis’s eyes hold mine, that particular shade of gray that reminds me of stormy waters. Of drowning willingly. His fingers trace my cheek, and I feel a spark. It’s more than static, more than chemistry.

It jolts through me, rewiring something fundamental.

“Say it again,” I whisper, needing to hear it, to know it wasn’t a hallucination or a joke. This is Loomis Powell we’re talking about. The man reminded me no less than a dozen times how he doesn’t do relationships or love and how he’s all wrong for me.

Loomis leans closer, his accent thickening the way it does when emotion overtakes. “I love you, Keegan Fritz.” His thumb grazes my bottom lip. “Quite desperately, actually. No thinking about it.”

The Gulf of Mexico sprawls below us, the stars and moon reflecting off the water, a constellation of lights that can’t compete with the brightness I feel expanding inside my chest. I slide my hands beneath his unbuttoned shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Awesome. Just double-checking. I love you too, in case you needed to hear it again as well.” I draw up onto my tiptoes and kiss him. “Now I want you to show me how much you want me before I change my mind.”

His mouth curves into that smile that never fails to make my stomach swoop but contains something private now, something that belongs only to me.

Without warning, his hands move to my waist, then lower, gripping my thighs as he lifts me.

I wrap my legs around him instinctively, my dress bunching up between us.

“As you wish,” he murmurs against my neck, his voice vibrating through my skin.

“You just Princess Bride -d me,” I murmur, my eyes wide and my heart ready to explode. “In an English accent.”

“I’m English. And I’m not sure what Princess Bride- d means.”

“You don’t know that movie? You’re an actor. How do you not know that movie?” I ask as he carries me as if I weigh nothing back inside the hotel room. It’s his crazy muscles, and I grab onto them with my left hand so I can appreciate them even more.

“I’ve heard of it, of course, but I’m not sure I ever saw it.”

“Wow. You did that all on your own, then? If I didn’t love you before, I totally do now.”

“Good to know.” He smirks and kisses the corner of my lips.

“Why do you still seem nervous?”

He laughs, but it’s shaky and, well, nervous-sounding.

He stops walking, holding me here in the middle of the living room.

“Because I am. Bloody terrified, actually. I told you I love you, which is still making me break out into a cold sweat even with you telling me it back. I have more things to tell you, and I’ve never been a boyfriend before.

What if I bollocks it all up? What if one day you get tired of my shit and leave me?

I’m not the first man you’ve loved, but you’re my first, well, everything serious, and I… fuck, I’m rambling again.”

Oh, Loomis .

I cup his face in my hand as he walks us into the bedroom and continues on into the bathroom.

“You’re not the first man I’ve said it to, but you’re the best of them by a mile.

I’m myself with you, and you see that and want it anyway.

I never had that with them, and how much could I have really loved them if that’s the case?

This is real. We’re real.” I place my hand on his chest over his racing heart.

His mouth finds mine, hungry and insistent. I taste gin and mint and something uniquely him. The kiss deepens, and my fingers tangle in his hair, pulling slightly and drawing a groan from deep in his throat that I feel more than hear.

The master bathroom appears around us, all marble and mirrors and soft lighting. Loomis sets me on the cold counter, the shock of it against my thighs making me gasp against his mouth. He pulls back just enough to look at me, his pupils dilated, turning those gray orbs nearly black.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, each word deliberate.

I reach for the lower buttons of his shirt, my fingers clumsy with wanting and my stupid brace. “Show me.”

Loomis helps me with his shirt, shrugging it off to reveal shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. The sight never fails to steal my breath.

His hands find the zipper of my dress, drawing it down with torturous slowness.

The sound fills the quiet bathroom like a prelude.

When the fabric pools around my waist, still covering my lower half, his gaze travels over my exposed skin, lingering on the black lace of my bra.

“Christ, you are so fucking sexy.”

He makes me feel it too. No one has ever made me feel beautiful or sexy the way Loomis does.

I reach behind to unhook my bra and watch his face as I let it fall. His eyes go from smoky to dangerous in an instant, and I just about lose my mind with that.

“Touch me,” I whisper, half command, half plea.

“Oh, darling. I’m just getting started with you.

” His hands are warm when they cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples that harden instantly at his touch.

He lowers his head, replaces his fingers with his mouth, and the wet heat of his tongue sends pleasure spiraling through me.

I arch into him, one hand braced on the counter, the other guiding his head.

“God, Loomis,” I breathe, as he draws my nipple between his teeth, applying just enough pressure to balance on the edge between pleasure and pain.

“I love the way you say my name,” he murmurs against my skin, moving to give the other breast equal attention. “Like it’s both a prayer and a profanity.”

His hands slide up my dress, finding the edge of my underwear and tracing the lace before hooking his fingers beneath it.

I lift my hips to help him, and then I’m sitting naked on the bathroom counter, my red hair tangled around my shoulders and back, my body exposed to both him and the mirror behind me.

He steps away, just for a moment, to undo his belt and to push down his pants and boxer briefs in one impatient movement.

Then he’s naked too, his cock so hard it’s glistening with precum.

I reach for him, but he catches my wrist and kisses the inside of it, his tongue sneaking out and swirling around.

“Not yet,” he says, kneeling before me. “I need to taste you first.”

He parts my thighs with gentle but insistent hands, and I feel vulnerable and powerful all at once, watching him look at me with such flagrant hunger. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, then another as he moves higher, a trail of damp heat leading him to where I’m already aching for him.

His mouth covers my pussy, and the first thrust of his tongue makes me cry out. He knows what I like by now—how much pressure, what rhythm—but he surprises me when he varies his approach as he focuses on pumping in and out of me, both with his tongue and fingers.

It’s killing me in the best of ways, suspending me in pleasure without letting me climb too quickly toward release. His hand grips my thigh, holding me open, holding me still when I try to move against his mouth.

“Loomis, please.” I gasp, my good hand in his hair, tugging lightly.

He looks up at me, his mouth glistening. “Please what, love?”

“Don’t tease me.”

He blows cool air on my pussy. “But I’ll make it feel so good.”

His tongue circles my clit, slow and deliberate, with his eyes holding mine. It’s carnal, a possessive move that says this is mine, and I say how this goes .

“It drives me crazy when you lick me like that.”

“I can’t get enough,” he rasps. “I want to make your pussy drip. I want it all over my face. The thought makes my cock throb.”

He licks from my opening back up to my clit, burying his face in me as if to prove his point, and I gasp, leaning back and angling my hips up, desperate for more.

“Oh god. Keep doing that.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating straight into my clit.

“You’re adorable when you think you’re in charge of how I fuck you.

” He taps my clit with the tip of his finger.

“This is mine.” He drags his finger lower and slides it inside me, using it to fuck me slowly.

“And this is mine.” He pulls his finger out and slips it lower against the muscles of my asshole.

“This too.” He licks from my ass back up to my clit, and I rock and sway, unable to control the movement.

“All of this is mine. Mine to eat and fuck and finger. Tonight, Keegan Fritz, I’m going to show you exactly what it means to be owned by me. ”

I stare into his eyes, a vast stormy sea and a chasm of endless depth.

He’s asking me to trust him. To show him how deep this goes for me in a way words never could.

Words. What the fuck are those? I’ve heard them all and they’ve been meaningless.

It’s actions that have spoken and led for both of us.

I take both of my feet and brazenly prop them up on the counter and lean my weight back on my elbows.

This is me. All of me. Exposed to him. I’ve been naked in front of him in the light of day, but this is different.

This is more. This is everything. And based on the look in his eyes, he wants whatever he can get.

It’s such a goddamn high, I’m buzzing with it.

“Put your money where your mouth is and show me.”

He laughs. “My feisty little mermaid.” Still, all pretenses of slow are gone.

He renews his efforts, adding another finger to the mix, curling them inside me while his tongue circles my clit with perfect, relentless precision.

The pressure builds, heat and tension coiling tighter and tighter until I’m right there, right at the edge?—