Playing the Billionaire's Game - Pippa Roscoe Page 0,40

that he was studying her, trying to seek out any hint of doubt.

‘Sebastian, honestly. Am I nervous? A little. Excited? A lot. Scared? Not at all.’ She reached up to cup his face, her palm against the slight stubble of his jaw. ‘I want this,’ she said before leaning up to place a kiss against his lips. And then another and another until mouths opened and tongues tangled and hands gripped and she was lost again.

Until she felt the loss of heat from his body and heard the tearing of foil even as he kissed her, his tongue filling her the way she wanted his body to. She shifted to welcome him between her legs and when his arms came up to frame her face she felt protected, cared for and she blinked against the sheen of tears threatening to form.

He kissed her then, long, slow and deliberate, easing away the last thread of nerves and distracting her with the sensual delight he was weaving between them. Seconds passed—minutes and time lost all meaning for Sia, who simply relished the power and passion of an endless kiss. Her body came alive, yearning and wanting, eager and impatient, her breathing quickened and her body flushed, heat tingling across her skin.

He positioned himself and gently pressed into her, gliding slowly deeper and deeper. She felt the unfamiliar tension of muscles building, the pressure strange and new, but his kiss was so different. He plundered her with his demanding tongue, filling her again and again with passion and power and it made her want more, need more. The aching desire building within her caused her to shift beneath him, to widen her legs, urging him deeper, harder into her so that his body would finally mirror his tongue, so that she would know what it felt like to be consumed by him completely.

Finally giving in to her desires, he pushed to the very depth and she felt him, all of him, and more, as if she no longer knew where he ended and she began. He withdrew and she nearly cried from the loss until he thrust back into her and she cried instead with pleasure. Again and again he thrust into her, her moans of ecstasy poured into him as he kissed her, their sweat-slicked bodies sliding effortlessly together, bringing them closer and closer to something unfathomable to Sia—a strange wordless moment that defied explanation. Each thrust took her nearer to the edge and further from rationality and she both longed for it and wanted to delay it because it would take her away from the sheer pleasure drenching her entire being.

Her hand slipped around Sebastian’s waist instinctively, knowing what she wanted, pressing down against the base of his spine to hold him there, deep within her, as she shifted her hips, welcoming him further into her. His eyes grew wide, ringed with gold flecks that shone in the darkness, and in that second—the moment just before they both fell—they shared infinity.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SIA STIRRED, FEELING the warmth of a sunbeam against her skin, smiling to herself from the memory of the night before. She stretched out her legs, feeling the pull of unfamiliar muscles and the gentle hum of pleasure still in her body.

Reluctantly prising her eyes open, she spied the beautiful sunny day through the large open windows of the cabin. She also caught sight of a round table, pristine white cloth swaying in the breeze. From the bed she could make out platters of fruit, croissants and, thankfully, a large silver cafetière.

She realised that Sebastian wasn’t there and was actually a little thankful to have just a moment to collect herself. She didn’t for one minute regret what she’d done with him last night, but she was beginning to understand what he’d meant about unforeseen consequences.

The emotions that wrapped around how she felt about him and even herself were shifting in the sunlight like dust particles. There had been a moment last night when she had felt utterly connected to him. No masks, no lies, no secrets yet to be revealed. It had been just them and for a moment she’d thought—she’d imagined—they could have...

The rest of their lives.

And then she kicked off the sheets as if she could kick away the thought as pure fancy, even if somewhere deep in her heart she clung to the possibility. She had agreed only to the next twelve days—eleven now, she realised as she ducked into the shower and stretched beneath the