Shopping for a Billionaire 4(37)
Author: Julia Kent

Who says it’s not?

His kisses travel lower, attending to my br**sts, then down the valley and into the fertile lands where his mouth makes me arch up in surprise and pleasure. He takes his time, hands under me, generous with his effort, erotic with his skill. My hands find his shoulder blades, admiring the fine, artistic lines of his muscled back, then stroke up the nape of his neck to bury in his hair. He is at my essence, tasting all I have to offer, and he is giving in bold, breathtaking ways.

My release is so close, a glow that fills me from top to bottom, and I reach down, curl up, and pull his mouth to mine, wanting more intimacy, wanting him face-to-face. His lips are tangy and savory, his smile all mine, and I nudge him to lie down on the bed, pulling myself up onto my knees.

In full glory, oh—I can’t quite catch my breath, the handsome, powerful pull of his skin and blood next to me magnetic. I want him to belong to me. I want to be claimed.

I want.

I want.

Declan tugs gently on my knee and guides me to straddle him. He turns to take care of practicalities, a condom on him quickly, and I am on him, not leaning forward with rounded shoulders and self-conscious posture, but riding high, sitting straight up, br**sts gleaming in the shadow of the city lights and the moon’s eye.

“You are…” He finishes the sentence with a sighing sound more gratifying than any word. Eyes the color of Irish hills gaze at me with an intensity that brands me. I am his. He is mine.

I don’t need to hear the word love. Not yet. Because I know that someday I will. The certainty inside me is so solid, so secure that as he fills me, our connection complete, I will the words to span between us without being spoken. Appreciative, smoking eyes take me in as he pushes up, touching my core, we are one. One flesh, one heart. I feel it beating, strong and pattering under my hand, pulse pounding as we rock to ecstasy.

This is how we find each other.

We tremor together on a frequency of our own creation, and then, with dawning awareness, find the divine within.

Chapter Nineteen

“You have such nice hands.” In the morning light, his big hands look like an artist carved them, the thick veins and muscled thumb pad like an artifact you would find in a display case in a Greek museum. I’m pressed against him under the covers, a handful of pillows under our shoulders and heads, and we’re luxuriating in the sheer quantity of skin that can touch each other when we’re naked, in a bed, and alone.

The way life should be.

He inhales slowly and stretches like a big lion, the thick triceps in his arms bulging and thinning out, making a deep groove in his arm as the muscles pull away from each other. Does the man have any fat on him? I have plenty for us both, I suppose. As if reading my mind he reaches for my ass and gives it a love pat.

My phone buzzes.

“Ignore it,” he groans, breathing with a slight sound of deep satisfaction. “I don’t want to deal with people just yet.”

“What about me?” I pretend to pout.

“You’re not people.”

“What am I, then?”

“You’re prey.” With a playful roar he pins me beneath him, demonstrating that all of his body isn’t nearly as sleepy as he’s pretending to be. Some parts woke up a bit earlier and are standing at attention, ready to, er….plunge into the day.

Bzzzzz.

And then my hotel phone rings.

We look at each other in alarm. “I have to answer that,” I say with a pleading tone.

“Of course.” He lets me go and I grab the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Shannon?” It’s Amanda.

“Who is it?” Declan asks just loud enough for her next words to be:

“YOU HAVE A MAN IN YOUR ROOM WITH YOU?” She screams so loudly I fling the receiver across the bed and hold my palm over my ear, moaning in pain. Declan winces and sits up, scrambling for the phone, which slides off the bed like a paralyzed snake with no ability to save itself from plummeting.

“Amanda? It’s Declan. Shannon will be back in a second. She’s just sewing her eardrum back together.”

The ringing in my ear isn’t fading, and Declan gives me an awkward look. I’m completely na**d and his eyes drift down.

Now he looks like a wolf.

“Fine, and you?” he says, making strange small talk with the woman who mysteriously set last night’s events into motion. I have a million words for her, most of them involving some combination of “thank” and “you,” but right now I’m staring, agog, at my naked—boyfriend?—talking about the weather with Amanda.

I snatch the phone back and wave him off to the bathroom. As he stands, his ass muscles make me whimper.

“Ear hurts that bad?’ she asks softly.

I wipe a line of drool from my mouth as I get a very nice view of Declan making coffee in the Keurig. “Um, yes. It’s torture. Why are you calling me in my room? You can’t do that. It could break my cover. Plus, what the hell did you do? Andrew told me you barged into his office and demanded to know about Declan and his mother’s death, and then I came here to do this mystery shop and it’s a plague of McCormicks! Terry and Andrew and Declan and James all pretended to work here.”

Silence.

“Amanda?”

“Um.” Her tone of voice is hesitant. If she were calling because someone got hurt, she’d say so. This is business, and a cold dread fills me.

“What’s going on? Tell me why you set all this up.”

“That’s not why I’m calling.”

“Then why?”

“Greg’s been trying to call you. Me, too. Shannon, go get your smartphone and log in to your Twitter account.”

“Say what? I don’t need to read any more crap from Jessica Coffin right now.” I give Declan a once-over as he makes the second mug of coffee. “Especially right now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s about your mom. And Jessica. And the credit union client.”

“What do those three completely unrelated things have to do with each other?”

“Marie made them not-so unrelated last night.”

“Speak in English, please.”

“Well, she, uh…”

“Spit it out!”

“Your mom started taunting Jessica Coffin on Twitter and insisting that you were pretending to be a lesbian for the credit union shop, and Jessica looped the client in, and now they’re insisting Greg fire you.”

I asked for the full story and got it. In one sentence.

“Say that again,” I peep. Declan’s frowning now and he hands me the hot cup of coffee, a concerned look on his face.