Michelle Smart - Bound To A Billionaire - Protecting His Defiant Innocent (Bound to a Billionaire) / Claiming His One-Night Baby / Buying His Bride of Convenience

‘We weren’t on a date and it’s late,’ he felt compelled to remind her. And remind himself. When she looked at him like that...

‘Have I annoyed you again?’

He could laugh at her lack of guile. How many times had he heard his colleagues complain that women never made it easy for them, always expecting them to read their minds and know when something was wrong rather than just coming out and saying it? There was none of that with Francesca. Her emotions were always on the surface.

‘No, you haven’t annoyed me.’

‘Good.’ She tucked her arm through his. ‘Then you can walk me back to my room.’

If she didn’t look so unsteady on her feet he would shake her off.

He was annoyed enough with himself for allowing their meal drag on so long and for hanging around to watch her dance when he should have taken the earliest opportunity to escape.

His heart sinking in rhythm with his warming skin, Felipe took a deep breath and led the way.

‘I’ve had a wonderful evening,’ she said. ‘Thank you for keeping me company.’

‘No problem.’

‘And you?’ When he didn’t answer, she prompted, ‘Have you had a nice evening?’

That was a question he was not prepared to answer with anything more than a noncommittal grunt.

Thankfully they’d reached her door, allowing him to remove his arm from her hold and step back.

She rummaged in her bag and found her key card and immediately dropped it.

‘Oops.’

‘I’ll get it,’ he muttered.

He scooped it up and swiped the lock for her, then opened the door.

‘Do you want to come in?’

He shook his head.

‘The bar’s got beer in it,’ she said temptingly.

‘I’ve had enough to drink.’ He’d drunk only half of what she had but, as he’d reminded himself a dozen times throughout their meal, he was working. All that dancing had probably worked a lot of the alcohol out of her system but she was by no means sober. And she’d had the extra cocktail on the dance floor...

Yes, there was no way she was sober. Felipe was used to drinking with hardened men, not slender—but curvy, Dios, he could not get those curves out of his mind—women.

She bit her lip then tilted her head. ‘Don’t you find me attractive?’

God give him strength.

‘I need to get some sleep.’

‘You haven’t answered my question. You didn’t answer my last question either.’

The strap of her dress fell down again. He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I’m not going to answer it.’

Heavy footsteps trod towards them. He turned to see a man around his own age heading their way.

‘Get into your room.’ Felipe took hold of her wrist and walked her in. He didn’t want to advertise the fact she would be alone in her suite.

The door closed quietly behind them.

Resolutely, he kept his back pressed against it. He would count to ten and then leave.

One. Two. Three.

‘You do find me attractive,’ she whispered, eyes shining as she stood before him.

Four. Five. Six.

She raised herself onto her toes and palmed his cheeks with hands as soft as anything he’d ever felt. ‘I find you attractive too,’ she breathed.

Seven. Eight...

He lost the count when her breath danced over his lips and her mouth found his.

Holding his breath, he clenched his hands into fists and willed himself not to respond.

He couldn’t. He mustn’t.

Francesca’s lips didn’t move. Not for a long time. He felt her breathe him in and fought not to inhale. Then she did move. Just a little. A turn of her head to cover his mouth better, a gentle, tentative exploration of his lips while her fingers made a gentle, tentative exploration of his cheeks and jaw, rubbing against his beard and up to trace the contours of his ears.

He fought to hold on, fought to deny the sensation burning through him.

He might have won had he not opened his mouth to let in air and her tongue darted through his parted lips. In an instant he was filled with the sweet heat of her kiss and the fingers he’d raised to yank her hands away from him were cradling her skull as he kissed her back as deeply as a parched man drinking from a cup.

She tasted sweeter than he could have dreamed.

Her arms wrapped around his neck while his arm hooked around her waist to crush her to him. She melted into him with a breathy sigh, charging his desire like a rocket.

He roamed her curves, finding her waist, her hips, her bottom, which was round and pert and felt delectable beneath his fingers. She was delectable. Soft and womanly beyond imagination.

Rising onto her toes had the effect of lifting her dress. When he skimmed down her thigh he came to bare skin that had him sucking in a breath at its satin sheen and holding her tightly so he could devour her mouth again.

It was her response that so blew his mind. Her hunger was as acute as his own and it fed his.

He could take her now if he wanted and she would welcome him with the breathy sighs that were growing in intensity. God knew, he wanted to take her, this craving like nothing he had ever known.

His exploring hands ran up her bare thighs to find her panties and he slipped a finger under the skimpy material and almost groaned aloud to feel the hot dampness there.

She squirmed against him, one foot running up and down the length of his leg, kissing him, licking him, her teeth grazing his neck then kissing up to brush her cheeks against his beard like a purring cat. He could taste her desire in her kisses, smell it in the heat radiating off her.

Tugging the panties down her hips, he pressed the palm of his hand over the soft, downy hair and felt the gasp that flew from her throat. She pressed her pubis into him but before he could explore any further, her nails suddenly dug through his shirt and into his flesh and she collapsed into him, crying out and shuddering.

And then she stilled.

For a long, drawn out moment Felipe couldn’t find his breath. Francesca didn’t seem to be breathing either.

The only sound he heard with any clarity was the roar of blood in his ears.

It was like the room was clearing of fog. Slowly they released their hold on each other and took wary steps back.

What the hell did he think he was playing at? Had he lost his mind?

Francesca put trembling hands to her mouth, covering it as if in prayer, her eyes wide and dazed.

He felt pretty dazed himself.

He breathed out deeply.

He’d been minutes away from making love to her. There were no excuses he could make.

For the first time in his life he’d let his desire guide him and his loathing for himself tasted like salt on his tongue.

He was a thirty-six-year-old man. He knew better than this. He demanded better than to behave like this.

He should never have followed her into the suite, not when his awareness of her and the desire in his loins had been simmering since the first moment he’d set eyes on her.

‘I need to go.’

She jerked her head and took another step back. He took it as agreement.

His heart hammering, he backed away to the door and left.

* * *

Francesca put the pillow over her head to drown out the sound of the knocking on the door. She knew who it was and she did not want to see him. She didn’t want to see him ever again. She couldn’t. It was just too mortifying.

She’d rather dance naked through the streets of Caballeros with the lecherous Governor ogling her than see Felipe again.

Her cheeks scalded to remember how she’d come undone with one touch.

One touch.

Why didn’t she know that could happen? How could she have known when she hadn’t even kissed a man before?

His face. He’d been horrified.

No wonder he’d run from her suite.