Bad Engagement (Billionaire's Club #10) - Elise Faber Page 0,29

the coffee.

Fuck the plan.

He swept her up into his arms and carried her into the house.

Twelve

Kate

That was perhaps the boldest request she had ever made.

But damn, had it paid off.

Because now she was in Jaime’s arms, pressed against the chest she’d admired in so many of his pictures, held close as he stood and pushed through the front door of her house.

A moment of her weight shifting, but before she could do more than grip his shoulders a little tighter, the lock clicked, and she was pulled even closer.

She expected him to ask her where her bedroom was, to dump her down onto the mattress, to cover her body with his own and strip her naked. She expected him to take advantage of the opening she gave him, to take everything she had freely offered to him.

And that would have been fine.

Because it had been freely offered.

Because she wanted that, too.

Had dreamed about it, had fantasized and imagined and hoped and prayed it would come about, and in this moment, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

But then he spun and pressed her to the door, pinning her against the hard wood.

His lips curved up at the corners. His eyes went hot.

And then he said, “Where else can I kiss you, Red?”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, lurched up so her mouth was a hairsbreadth from his. “Everywhere.”

Lips curving further. Fingers sliding into her hair, knocking the ponytail askew, his hips holding her in place against the wood, and his free hand slipping under the hem of her tank top, his palm scalding where it met her bare skin. “Yeah?”

Kate nodded. “Yeah.”

He dropped to his knees so fast that she shrieked.

But he only stayed there for a moment, long enough to unhook her legs, to help her find her feet, and then he was rising up, and his lips were on hers.

Long and slow and deep, he kissed her as though she were the tastiest dessert on the planet, and he intended to savor every bite. His tongue licked across her lips, slipped inside, and caressed hers, coaxing her into a rhythm that made her thighs clench, her knees tremble.

And all the while, his hands were moving, combing through her unbound hair, stroking up and down her side, over her stomach in delicate circles. A gentle pattern with slightly roughened skin that threatened to melt her into a puddle of goo.

His hand slid up, stopping an inch beneath her bra, and her breasts swelled, her nipples hard little points that ached for his mouth.

“Jaime,” she breathed.

“Red.” He touched her cheek and crouched again, hunkering down in front of her. He was so much taller than her and when he went down to his knees for a second time, his mouth was positioned exactly where she wanted.

He leaned in, sucked the hard bud of her nipple into his mouth.

She still wore her tank top, her bra. Together they made up several layers of fabric. So, him touching her that way shouldn’t have felt good, shouldn’t have sent desire spiraling through her body like his touch was a live wire directly to her pussy. But this was Jaime.

And the fact that he held such a power over her wasn’t scary.

Because she knew deep down in the depths of her soul that he wouldn’t take advantage of that power, that he wouldn’t hold it over her, that she would be safe with him.

Because she also knew that somehow, she held the same power over him.

Flick.

She jumped.

Glanced down to see he’d tugged open the button on her shorts.

Her breath caught at the sight of his hands just below her navel, broad fingers tugging the pull of her zipper down. He spread the fabric, denim worn so often over the years that it had grown soft, that it was thin and fraying.

“Unicorns.”

He smiled, pressed his lips against the fabric of her underwear, bright purple and dotted with dancing unicorns.

It wasn’t sexy or skimpy. But then again, she hadn’t expected to have a man between her thighs that morning.

Her hands slid between them, self-consciousness bubbling up, wanting to cover up the ridiculous fabric, but then Jaime took her hands, pressed them, palms flat, against the door.

“I like it,” he murmured, the words coming against her skin, hot and damp and making her need spiral up and out of control. She barely felt when he lifted one of her feet then the other, tugging off her shoes and chucking them aside because his lips were