New York Billionaires Series

He focuses on my skin instead of my face, fingers painting patterns over my stomach and hips, occasionally brushing across the underside of my breasts. He’s getting a tan too, the sun has started to bleach his dark blond hair, and he hasn’t shaved in days.

He looks glorious.

“Yes,” he says. “Fine. I’d rather it was me investing. Call it illogical or just plain sexist, I don’t know.”

“You did invest,” I say. “You invested in me. Our agreement gave me what I needed to start the business, not to mention giving me the time I needed. You’re the initial investor.”

His lips curve, eyes on the nipple he’s teasing between his fingers. “I like that.”

“Besides, if this is some weird jealousy thing, you know Carter isn’t my type. He’s too easy to talk to. I like men who make you work for it.”

His fingers clamp down on my nipple and I gasp, swatting his bare chest. “Hey.”

He laughs and closes his lips around my nipple in a sensual apology. I grip his broad shoulders and press a kiss to his damp hair. “Do you know something?”

A humm sends shivers along my chest.

“You don’t know how to relax. We’ve been here for four days so far, and you’re either working, catching up on reading for work, or making love to me.”

He speaks against the skin between my breasts. “You ranked them in the wrong order.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yes. Do you know, you once called me the hardest-working person you’d ever met.”

I chuckle. “Did I?”

“I remember. It was quite the compliment, you know.”

“Of course you’d think that was the highest compliment.”

“Well,” he says, kissing his way across my breast. “I used to think it was. But working isn’t my favorite thing anymore.”

“Mmm.” I close my eyes at the feeling of his lips on my nipple. “But no work tonight, on the dinner cruise. For either of us.”

“None,” he says. “Which means we should make good use of the time we have now.”

His hands slide down to grip my ass and he rocks me forward, over the growing hardness in his trunks. I laugh. “God, you have a one-track mind.”

“I’m on my honeymoon with my wife.”

A thrill runs through me. It hasn’t stopped, whenever he says the words. My wife. “When you put it that way…”

His beard scrapes against my neck, a kiss pressed to my skin. My pulse thunders beneath it. “Thank you for this trip,” I say. “For taking the time off.”

It had been his idea, and I’d been as shocked as everyone around us that he was going on vacation. But he’d reminded me that it was my mom who’d told us we should go.

“I have to make my mother-in-law happy,” he’d said, and I’d gotten the feeling it was only partially a joke. “We didn’t start out on the right foot.”

Victor kisses the hollow in my throat. “You’re welcome, but that’s the third time you’ve thanked me. Do you think spending time alone with you on a tropical island is hard? It might be the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

I run my fingers through his hair, scraping my nails over his scalp. He hums in pleasure, like a large golden cat. I can’t resist. I rock my hips along his erection. “Something sure is hard.”

He groans, eyes downcast. “God, I love you without clothes. So beautiful.”

I revel in his words, his hands, the feel of him. Our bodies had understood one another long before Victor and I did. I’m not concerned about walking around naked in front of him in bright daylight, wearing only the two rings on my left hand. Comfortable intimacy is like a web between us.

Victor kisses me, slow and languorous. There’s no rush here. We’re not hiding from our feelings, and we’re not hiding from each other. I brush hair back from his forehead. “Victor.”

He trails a line of kisses along my collarbone. “Yes?”

“I love you.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

His lips pause. Against my chest, I feel the sudden pounding of his heart.

I hug him closer. “I’m not asking for anything, or demanding it back. I just really wanted to tell you. Even if-”

His lips crush against mine. The languorous kisses are gone, replaced by a hunger that sets my heart racing. He tugs at my ponytail and my curls spill over my back, tickling my bare skin.

Then his fingers are between my legs, stroking and circling. “Victor, I-”

“I have to be inside you.”

His words set off my own need and I tug at his swim trunks. He lifts his hips and then he’s free, hot and hard in my hand. I duck my head to suck him into my mouth and he lets out a deep groan. I can’t resist, not when he’s like this, a trip wire hovering at the edge.

Victor doesn’t let me enjoy him for long. He flips me over on the lounge chair and we both sigh at the sweet, blessed relief of his entrance. It feels like I’m welcoming him home.

He braces himself on his elbows, kissing me as he starts to move. They’re deep, earth-shattering kisses, mirroring the slow, steady roll of his hips. Every hard thrust of his pelvis against mine sets my pleasure off.

“Cecilia,” he murmurs. “God, I…”

“I know,” I say, wrapping my legs around him. “I know.”

I orgasm before him, the bastard, as he angles his entry just the way I need. Brushing against my clit with every hard slam.

When he gets close, I hold him tight and whisper the words in his ear again. “I love you.”

He finishes with a force that takes my breath away, his groan in my ear. We lie there for a long time, still connected, our breathing coming fast.

He finally rises up on an elbow and sated, blue eyes meet mine. “Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.”

His eyes shutter for a moment, like he’s taking a hit. But they’re clear as the sky above when he opens them again. “I love you too, Cecilia.”

“You do?”