Billionaires Dollar Series

He hums low in his throat, staring down at my boobs like they contain all the answers, capable of curing cancer and restoring peace in the Middle East. His hands on my waist tighten into a bruising grip.

“All right,” I murmur into the silence. “So I guess you’re more of a boob man. Glad we have that settled.”

Ethan laughs huskily, a hand coming up to cup and weigh and tease. “Recent convert,” he says, bending to flick his tongue over a rapidly hardening nipple. The sensation makes me gasp, and when he settles his mouth and sucks…

Is it possible to shatter from this alone? I never have before, but as Ethan’s mouth bites and licks, I think I just might. I wrap my legs more firmly around him and surrender to the touch.

And touch me he does. Hands on my waist, my hips, my neck, my nipples. Hands on the buttons to my shorts. I rise up on my elbows and shrug out of my shirt altogether. It suddenly feels like the easiest thing in the world to give in to the fire between us, to take off my clothes. His pleasure in my body is evident-why shouldn’t I feel the same way?

Ethan kisses me, tongue against mine. I grip his shoulders as he breaks apart long enough to speak. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his hand smoothing down my stomach to stop at the waistband of my shorts.

Oh Lord.

His hand dives clean underneath the waistband of both shorts and panties, smoothing over skin and then he’s there. I gasp as his fingers make contact.

Ethan groans. “Bella, holy shit.”

We breathe in tandem as his fingers reach further down still and one slides deliciously deep inside. His groan is deeper this time.

“You’re so wet.”

Faint embarrassment, and then nothing, because his hand is parting and stroking and I need to get him out of his clothes, too. I want skin on skin on skin on skin.

Ethan’s hand disappears. He grips my shorts and cotton panties instead and I lift my hips obediently. He tugs, tossing them to the side, and then I’m naked and covered at the same time-covered in his dark gaze as it rakes me from head to toe. Fire spreads through me as it cloaks, shields, driving away any hints of insecurity.

His eyes lock between my legs. A hand returns, circling, stroking, once easing inside and I arch up, staring blindly at the pinewood ceiling.

Ethan curses. “Fuck, Bella, I need you.”

I reach for him.

His phone goes off.

“Why,” he curses, “does this always happen?”

I laugh breathlessly and wrap both my arms and legs around him. He’s still fully clothed, his jeans rough against my skin. “Don’t go.”

“I don’t want to.” He reaches for his phone, turning off the alarm.

“Will they be here soon?”

“In ten minutes,” he says. “My mother is bringing them over, and I told her to be very punctual.”

Gripping his shoulders, I press a kiss to his cheek-the only part of his face I can reach from this position. “In that case, you definitely need to let me get dressed.”

“Let me take it under consideration.”

Giggling, I wiggle against him. “And we need to get the flowers in here. And turn on the lights. And the plate of cookies.”

“Whose side are you on?” he asks darkly, but he sits back on his heels and drags me up into sitting with him.

“Yours.”

He hands me my clothes, running a hand over his face. “Holy shit. That was… intense.”

I slide up my panties and shorts, feeling the exact same way. “You could say that.”

He watches as I fasten my bra, eyes dark.

“It’s not goodbye forever,” I tell him.

“Thank God for the small mercies.” He kisses me, hard and true. “Will you stay? Be here when they get back?”

“Of course I will, if that’s okay.”

He helps me down the ladder, hands on my waist and lifting me the last bit. “It absolutely is.” Reaching down, he adjusts his trousers. “Although I’ll have to stop myself from kissing you for a few minutes.”

Laughing, I grab his hand, pulling him toward the house. My body feels too light and too heavy at the same time. “Come on. Let’s fix the last things.”

“But it’s just so pretty,” Haven says. It’s the twentieth time she’s made the same observation today. She’s sitting cross-legged on one of the tiny kid-chairs, a book open in front of her, and the widest, happiest smile on her face.

“That was the idea,” I say. I’m halfway up the ladder, leaning in through the door. “But you still can’t sleep here tonight.”

She blinks at me, eyes wide. “Why not, Daddy?”

“We’ve already discussed that.”

Evie gives a dramatic sigh from her sprawl on the cushions. “I’m staying.”

“Neither of you are.” My voice is firm. “There are no beds here, no glass in the windows. It’ll get cold and damp.”

“It’s summer,” Evie says. Her voice is tiny but full of fiery determination.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

“What happens when you need to pee at night?” I point out. “No bathroom out here.”

That momentarily stumps them both.

But then Haven’s eyes light up. “We’ll just have to go back to the house. It’s not that far.”

I lean my head against the wooden doorframe. I’d really created my own monster with this one. “Mr. Snuggles lives in your room,” I point out to Evie. “I don’t think he would like sleeping out here. Elephants don’t climb.”

Her small face screws up with sudden consternation. This is a problem.

“You can carry him, or I could,” Haven points out, displaying a rare bit of sisterly assistance. I’d be pleased at that, if she wasn’t doing it to further her own goals.

Evie nods slowly. “Yes,” she says. “But Mr. Snuggles doesn’t like the dark.”

“That’s right. And it’ll get very dark out here,” I say. “No night lights.”