The Billionaire's Princess - Ava Ryan Page 0,53

mantra whispered in his ragged voice.

“I missed you, Carly… Missed you… Missed you.”

He gives me everything he’s got, and I reward him with a strangled shout as I experience the biggest, brightest, longest and most electrifyingly intense orgasm of my life.

He joins me immediately, my name pouring out of his mouth as our bodies spasm together. There’s a suspended moment out of time where we linger in the sensation, wringing every drop of pleasure from each other’s bodies before we collapse together. The end result? Me on my belly with him still inside me and his arms still around me. Him half on top of me. Both sets of legs sticking off the side of the bed.

I don’t know how long we lie there before both a chill and my sudden embarrassment set in. All I know is that he suddenly pulls away and stands. I take the opportunity to hastily wipe away the tears lingering on my cheeks, cover myself with the sheet and try to find some composure.

But composure is thin on the ground today.

For a second, I think he’s going to leave without a word, which is fine with me. I need a minute to catch my breath and process what just happened, because whatever it was? It wasn’t normal. It’s not normal for me to give and lose myself with such wild abandon, even when Damon touches me. It’s not normal for me to experience this searing certainty that my life has irrevocably changed, and the old Carly is gone forever, for good or for bad. Because I’ll be the happiest woman in the world if he sticks around. And the pathetic image of heartbreak if he doesn’t.

But he pauses at the door. Hesitates without looking directly at me, no more eager to make eye contact at this awkward moment than I am.

“You’ll be okay,” he says quietly.

“What?” I say, startled because I think for one horrified beat that he’s just read my mind.

“With your, ah, plan. To, ah, sell your art. You’re amazing. You’re going to do great. With my help or without it. No doubt in my mind. And I didn’t mean to, ah, come on too strong.”

This unqualified endorsement and near-apology catch me completely off guard. I risk a glance at his face. Our gazes connect for one blistering second, during which I somehow manage to notice everything about him. His sweaty face and torso, high color and unreadable eyes. The remnants of his erection, which leave his cock ruddy and engorged. The shell-shocked expression that perfectly mirrors what I’m feeling inside.

And I have to wonder whether his half-apology refers to his unsolicited career help or what just happened in this bed.

Either way, I discover that I don’t need to hear it. I also discover that it’s too soon for me to look him in the face.

“It’s okay,” I say, quickly turning away to adjust the pillows behind me.

There’s a pause. He clears his throat.

“I’m just going to, ah…”

He trails off, his footsteps retreating down the hallway to the bathroom.

Leaving me to collapse on the bed stare up at the ceiling and wonder if I’ve been foolish enough—and rash enough—to fall crazy in love with a man I’m only just beginning to know.

15

Damon

As long as you still love me.

Seven months later and Carly’s throwaway line still chimes through my head at inconvenient and unsettling moments, demanding my attention. Like it wants something from me. Too bad I have nothing to give. Especially on a night like tonight, when my nerves are already frayed and raw from waiting on news about this fucking deal. Ryker is in the middle of a Hail Mary meeting in Tokyo this very second, but it’s not looking good. I’ve already missed my self-imposed year-end deadline to make the billionaire club, but I’ve spent the last couple of weeks assuring myself that it can happen first quarter. But the longer the minutes tick by without word from Ryker, the more convinced I become that my dream is up in smoke. For the foreseeable future, anyway.

So my mood could best be described as tense and shitty as I do a lap around my penthouse, straightening up before Carly gets here in a couple of minutes, and that’s just for starters.

Here’s where it really gets good. This cold and gloomy January evening is also the twenty-fifth anniversary of the night my mother chose my father’s best friend over my father and walked out of our lives without a word to me