Billionaires Dollar Series

An arm wraps around my waist and then I’m pulled unceremoniously into a coat closet. The scent of him is what hits me first, what keeps me from shrieking.

“Nick?”

He shuts the door firmly behind us. “That’s the one.”Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Why are you here?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.” With his arm still around me, I’m pressed tightly against his body. My hands slide up his chest of their own accord.

“Good.” He bends his head and presses his lips to mine. It’s just as heady and intoxicating as I’ve gotten used to. How can every kiss with him feel like the first?

His tongue demands entry and the deepening of the kiss opens something in my chest, something I’d already been on the verge of feeling. Affection, more of it than my stupid crush on him had ever commanded before.

“What’s this?” I tease. “What happened to Mr. I-like-it-hollow?”

“Consider this a tactical retreat,” he says, tipping my head back to run his lips along my jaw. “I have to attack first or you’d be out there, wrapped around me for all to see.”

“Oh? You’re that irresistible, are you?”

“To you, I seem to be,” he mutters. And then he’s kissing me again and all I can do is hold on and ride the sensations. Kissing him back, nipping at his lower lip, tugging at his hair and hearing him groan into my mouth.

“Why are you here tonight?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” His hands skate down the sides of my body, smoothing over the silk of my dress. “I can’t have you throw yourself at me in the office. I certainly can’t have you throw yourself at me in your brother’s house.”

“Throw myself at you?” I try to make my voice dry, but it comes out as a purr.

“You know exactly what you’ve been doing.” He kisses down my neck. There’s tension in his shoulders, in his chest, strong and coiled beneath my hands. I wonder what he’d be like unleashed-when all that energy has a focus and a purpose. The thought makes me shiver.

“What is it you want from me, Blair?” he demands. His hands tug gently on my hair and my eyes flit up to meet his. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks. Do you just want to see how far I can be pushed? You know I’ll push back. I told you that I’m not a man who plays games. So if this is a game, Blair, I’ll end it.”

The kiss he gives me then is a blazing, furious thing. I kiss him back and hold on as he turns us around, until my back is against the rack of coats. He disappears for a moment and I hear the click of a lock being turned. The sound sends shivers of nervous anticipation through me.

“Can’t be your first time sneaking away at an event.” It’s meant to be empty bluster, but it comes out as a question.

“You’re making assumptions,” he says.

“It’s the only thing I can do,” I respond. “I know so little about you.”

He reaches out and tips my head back. My breath quickens at the intensity in his eyes. “You know plenty.”

“Not enough.”

“More than enough,” he says. “And you still want this?”

I wet my lips. “What’s this?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

I step closer, my body reacting to the heat emanating off of him. “To finish what we started during the strip poker game, you mean. To get to know one another.”

His eyes move from my eyes to my lips. “Yes.”

There’s something in the tone of his voice-he wants my agreement, my acceptance, my permission. I give it to him.

“I always finish what I start.”

His eyes flash and then he’s kissing me, bending his head to meet my lips. Slow, languorous, teasing kisses, his mouth a hard press against mine. Kisses that say he’ll take his time-that he’s done this before, that he’s in control. I don’t want Nick to be in control.

I want him to lose it.

I kiss him with my arms wrapped around his neck and my breasts pressed to his chest. I melt into him, opening my mouth for his tongue, fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. Shivers are coursing through my body like electricity.

Strong hands grip my waist. He’s kissing me with expert skill, and I’m doing the same.

Surrender, his kisses say.

Give up, mine say.

My hands find the buttons of his shirt. It doesn’t take long to undo them all, finding the strength and width of his chest beneath. The dark smattering of hair. I let my hands run underneath his shirt, hanging off him.

His hand strokes from my hip to my breast, palming it. My nipple is hard through the thin fabric and his thumb brushes over it once, twice, sending heady want through me. Even through my clothes, the touch is like fire. I want him to twist it, to soothe the ache.

Nick understands. He tugs my blouse up with strong movements and tosses it to the side without looking.

“I recognize this,” he says darkly, hands on my bare waist, eyes on my bra. It’s one of my own-the one I’d worn to the strip poker game in Whistler.

I arch my back invitingly and he understands, large hands tugging the cups of my bra down to bare my nipples. His mouth is there an instant later and warm heat spreads from the contact, rippling through me. I run my hands over his hair and bite my lip to keep from moaning.

Nick’s voice is gravelly. “Do you know how hard it was to keep from doing this during the poker game?”

I nod, realizing too late that he can’t see me. “So hard.”

He gives a low chuckle. “That it was.”

I reach back and undo my bra. The only thing I want is skin against skin, to feel the heat of him against me.

“Tell me you’re also wearing the same panties as that night. The image of you in them has haunted me.” His hand ventures down to my skirt.

“Why don’t you check?”

And God help me, but he does. His right hand lifts the hem of my skirt with ease and then he’s there, touching my upper thighs and easing my legs apart.

“Fuck, Blair…”

I am wearing a similar pair of underwear. Beige with lacy flowers in the lining, the fabric almost transparent. His fingers slip under the lace, roughness of his fingertips against my sensitive skin.