Her Bad Boy Billionaire Lover (Billionai - By Bretton, Barbara Page 0,20

back was pressed against the cool wood paneling, her breasts crushed against the warm wall of his chest, her fingers laced behind his neck.

She felt poised on top of a giant rollercoaster, ready to swoop down to earth then rush up again with nothing holding her safely in the seat. It was a feeling of reckless excitement, coupled with the sweetness of familiarity that made her feel more alive than she had for a very long time.

A sense of inevitability filled the room like a third presence.

He placed his hands low on her hips, guiding her even closer to him. He nuzzled the base of her throat; his tongue flicked across the sensitive spot, causing her mind to spiral upward like a helium-filled balloon. Nothing in her life had ever seemed as good, as right, as being in his arms at this moment.

His hands moved along her shoulders, thumbs meeting at the soft hollow of her throat. She shivered with delight as his mouth slanted over hers.

It was an act of possession.

To hell with sanity, to hell with past bitterness. She wanted him more than she'd wanted anything in her life.

This was coming home.

A wild ride into the unknown with the only man she'd ever loved.

"Megan?" His voice was half growl, half caress.

She nodded. With one sure move he swept her up into his arms. The towel slipped away from her body and she reached for it.

"No," he said. "You won't need that."

She was naked in his arms, her mind emptied of all but the sensual feel of his body against hers, of his strength and warmth. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his. The smell of his skin, the faint shadow of his beard against the strong curve of his jaw--she closed her eyes against a dizzying rush of sensation that threatened to steal away what remained of her sanity.

#

She was lighter than a dream in his arms as he carried her to the bedroom yet the power she had over him was absolute. Her body was still warm from her bath, her skin moist and fragrant. He laid her down on the bed, her mane of auburn hair fanned across the pillow like living fire. She reached for the ivory satin duvet but he swept it to the floor with one swift movement of his hand.

"Jake," she whispered, "this isn't fair...."

He kicked off his shoes then reached for the button on his fly. "I'll make it fair."

A wildfire raged inside his gut as he stripped off his clothes then joined her on the bed. It would be easy to part her thighs and bury himself inside her, taking what she offered again and again until the flames were nothing more than embers. He wanted it fast and he wanted it now, a furious mating of male and female, but there was something about the look in her wide green eyes, the rapid sound of her breathing in the quiet room, that made him reconsider.

He leaned up on one elbow and let his gaze travel the length of her body. She was as slim as he'd remembered, as firm and sweet, but there was something different. A certain lushness, a womanly roundness to her curves that reminded him she wasn't a girl any longer.

Slowly he brought his hand to rest on the curve of her hip. His palm registered her warmth, the silky feel of her skin, the way she trembled slightly at his touch. Not with fear, he knew. With need. The same need that sent heat flowing through his veins.

She reached for him but he shook his head.

"Not yet," he said, his voice gruff with desire. "Not if you want it to last."

She laughed low in her throat. He wondered how many other men had heard her laugh like that. A primitive rage battled with lust. He hated the other men who had known her body. He wanted to burn their memory from her brain, brand her with his mouth, his hands, until she regretted the day she'd walked out the door.

Swiftly he moved to the foot of the bed.

"Every part of you," he said, encircling her ankle with his hand. "Every inch...."

Her back arched and she moaned as he drew his tongue along the rise of her instep. Slow and hot and wet enough to remind her that she was a flesh-and-blood woman and that he was a hungry man.

"Turn over," he said, his hands moving toward her knees. He