BILLIONAIRE (Part 7)

BILLIONAIRE (Part 7) by Juliette Jones Read Free Book Online

Book: BILLIONAIRE (Part 7) by Juliette Jones Read Free Book Online
Authors: Juliette Jones
want you so much.”
    “You
don’t have to prove anything, Lila,” he said, tuning into my wavelength.  Understanding me.  “Let me take you home.  I’ll run you a hot bath in the Jacuzzi.  I’ll
pamper you and feed you.  Let me do that for you tonight.  I don’t want you to
wear yourself out.  You need rest.”
    “All
right,” I said, loving him a thousand times more than ever, kissing the corner
of his mouth, his cheek, nibbling on his earlobe.  I knew he’d relent even
though he hadn’t yet given in to me in his own mind.  He could protest all he
wanted but I knew what he liked.  And I knew what I liked.  He wanted to pamper
me and I would let him.  “Lay me down, Alexander,” I said softly into his ear,
touching little butterfly kisses along his jaw to his lips.  “I want you to lay
me back onto the seat so I can rest.”
    He
obliged immediately, setting me carefully down into a reclining position, his
eyes full of anguished, almost manic concern.
    “I’m
warm,” I told him.  “Too warm.  Untie my robe so I can cool off a little.”
    He
did, parting the robe, holding his palm to my forehead.  “Maybe you have a
fever.  I should take you to a doctor.”
    “No,”
I said.  “I don’t need a doctor.  I feel cooler already.”
    His
eyes were on my face and his fingers gently smoothed my hair.  I slid my arms
from the robe so I was laying on it, completely naked.  Alexander, for the
first time since I’d known him, didn’t seem to notice this.  He was too
preoccupied with my health.  I found this funny and also ridiculously
endearing.  And I planned to remedy the situation immediately.
    “I’m
warm but my skin feels cool, and tingly,” I said.  “After being outside in the
ice-cold rain.”
    A
ripple of tortured rage flashed behind his eyes at the thought of me, cold and
alone.  “I wish you had just come to me –”
    I
touched my finger to his lips and he quieted instantly.  “Would you warm me
with your hands?  It would feel so good if you would touch me.  Just gently. 
Like this.”
    Taking
his hand, I placed his palm on my arm, rubbing it softly against my skin.
    I
closed my eyes and relaxed my hold, letting him continue as my arms fell to my
sides.  He caressed my arms, massaging gently with both hands.  “Mmm,” I sighed. 
“That feels so good.  Do my legs, too.”  My eyes opened and our gazes met.  “If
you don’t mind, that is.”
    His
mouth quirked at the corner.  Not quite a smile.  This was our thing: this
dance.  Allowing options.  Not forcing.  Not running.  Trusting.  Meeting
halfway.  This was what we were learning how to do, despite our individual
difficulties with it.  “I don’t mind,” he said quietly, moving to my feet,
which he massaged with deliberation, pressing into the arch of my foot with his
thumb until I exhaled with pleasure.  After the long walk in high-heeled boots,
his careful manipulations felt downright heavenly.  I wasn’t sure if he
intended his touch to be erotic, but I responded nonetheless.  I couldn’t help
myself.  The gentle-strong strokes of his fingers reminded me of other places
he’d caressed me.  I let my legs part, keeping my eyes closed, so he could see
me.  Every inch of me.  I was his and I wanted him to be reminded of that.  My
sex was moistening with each glide of his fingers.  I could feel the gentle
swell and pulse begin to plump me under his watch.  I wanted him to watch as I
grew increasingly turned on.  His hands had moved to my calves now, gliding
higher.
    “My
legs are sore from walking so far,” I murmured.
    “Is
that right?” he said, and his grief at the thought was less pronounced now.  His
hands moved to my thighs as he continued to massage me with his thorough,
passionate touch.  I was very wet now, as he caressed the tops of my legs and
behind, to my ass, kneading gently, working me for my own pleasure.  As he
massaged, his fingers roved, parting my intimate

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