Beauty and the Billionaire: The Wedding

And my voice dies off, because he’s leaning against the receptionist’s counter, dripping red dirt from his hat and shirt, and devouring me with his eyes. I’ve heard that expression before but I’ve never experienced it. I’ve never felt like anyone was pulling my clothing from my body with their freaking gaze and eye-fucking me . . .

Until now.

Good . . . goodness. I’m flustered and don’t know what to think.