Billionaires Dollar Series

“Speaking of that list of yours…”

“We weren’t speaking of anything remotely related to that.”

He reaches out and puts a hand on my knee again. “Everything is remotely related to that.”

I look down at his hand, at the long fingers and broad knuckles. “All right. How about I don’t tell you the list as much as I show it to you?”

His grip tightens on my knee. “I’d be amenable to that.”

“Amenable?”

“Oh yes.” He glances over at me again, and this time there’s no mistaking the heat in his gaze. “I have about an hour until I’ve promised the girls I’d be home.”

I trace his fingers, one at a time. “Spend that hour at mine?”

“Excellent idea.”

“I’ve been known to have good ones every now and then.” Excitement, anticipation, nerves… they all rise up inside me. This is so far out of my comfort zone-the seduction, the exploration. Surely he must have been with women his own age, with far more experience and talent.

But here he is with me.

Ethan wraps his arms around me as soon as the front door closes behind us. Toast is nowhere to seen, but then it’s always a coin toss to see if he’ll welcome me home or not.

“Who knew I’d be visiting my neighbor’s house so often this summer?” he whispers in my ear, walking me backwards.

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Who knew I’d be visiting my neighbor’s house so often?”

Ethan kisses me deep and slow, his hands moving at the same time, deliciously big and skilled over my body. “Your neighbor is very pleased about the whole thing,” he says, pulling my hips against his for added emphasis.

“So is this neighbor,” I murmur against his lips. “So pleased that she would probably not report you to the homeowners association if you played loud music.”

Ethan leans back. “Wow, she must be very pleased.”

“Very,” I agree. “But she wouldn’t be against more pleasing.”

His dark laughter washes over me, and then he’s gripping my thighs and lifting me up against his body. There’s such casual strength in the movement. “I remember mention of a kitchen island,” he says.

My throat goes dry. “I did mention that.”

Ethan walks us into the kitchen, setting me down on the cool marble. His hands make quick work down the buttons of my shirt.

“I remember mention of arm-gripping and hair-tugging, which I can do,” he says, bending to kiss my neck. “What else? Time for you to practice telling me.”

I’m about to, but forming words is difficult when his lips are approaching my bra. He pushes the cups down with no preamble, no warmup, his lips closing around one of my nipples. I gasp at the sensation-so sensitive, and he knows it.

Ethan grins, switching to my other breast. He uses his teeth this time, his hands already undoing the button of my jeans. “Come on. There must be more than that.”

I lift my hips so he can slide them off me. “Well, you certainly weren’t dressed in my kitchen island fantasy.”

Grinning, he reaches down and tugs off his shirt. The expanse of wide, muscled chest and a smattering of hair greets me. I look at him, wanting him on top of me, against me, holding me. Anything to feel that chest.

His smile turns crooked. “That impressive, huh?”

“Definitely.” Perhaps he’s joking, but I’m certainly not. I reach for his pants, but he pushes my hand away.

“Not fair,” I say.

“Patience, Bella…” He pushes me back on the counter and spreads my legs easily. His arm curls around my thighs, holding me in place. I’m locked to this moment-to him and to us. His right hand tugs my panties to the side.

I don’t protest. Not when he puts his mouth on me, his tongue, his lips. No, I stare unseeing up at the beautifully inlaid spotlights in the ceiling and struggle to contain my breathing.

It’s almost embarrassing how much I’m enjoying this. How good he is-how easy this is with him. There’s barely any thought at all, just complete surrender, and perhaps it’s because of his enthusiasm. He handles me like he likes it-like he loves it-and it’s so easy to let go.

And when my orgasm finally barrels through me, he’s there, holding me and watching me through lidded eyes. Telling me in a rough voice how much I turn him on.

How much he needs me.

So it’s not difficult at all to slide off the counter and turn around, my arms braced against the cold marble. And God help me, but I even wiggle my ass a bit.

What’s gotten into me? Not Ethan, at least-not yet, and all I can think about is changing that fact.

“Fuck,” he growls, slapping down on one of my cheeks. It stings, but only for a moment. “You’re so damn beautiful, it’s unreal.”

“Again,” I say.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

“This was on your list?”

I open my mouth to reply but all that escapes is a yelp as his hand comes down again, this time on my other cheek.

“Tell me,” he says.

“Yes.” It had been buried deep, but it had undeniably been there. My ex had never been interested in trying this-nothing remotely resembling rough.

Ethan tugs my panties down, leaving them halfway on my thighs. My entire body trembles in anticipation, in wait, and then… sting. Another slap.

“Your skin is gorgeous,” he says. “I’ve thought that from the first time I saw you.”

“Peeping from your tree?” I tease, and gasp as another slap reverberates through me. He’s not using a lot of force, not at all proportional to the heat rushing through me. But rushing it is, and I arch my back, aching for him.

“I wasn’t spying. But if I was, you were exactly the sight I would have chosen. You’re so fucking hot, Bella, and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

He undoes the clasp of my bra, having a better angle at it than me. I throw it to the side and look back at him.

He’s gazing in speculation. “Spanking, huh?” he drawls. “Interesting. I wonder…”

He runs his hand between my legs, one finger sinking deliciously deep. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

I rest my forehead against the cold marble and focus on breathing. Exposed like this… somehow it only makes me more aroused. Knowing he’s watching and enjoying me. Hearing him say the words.