Page 28 of My Ex's Billionaire Brothers

I catch a glimpse of my flushed face—lips parted, hair tousled, cheeks bright with heat. But my gaze shifts to him, and I’m a little proud. Theo Carver, the unflappable man who looks like the human incarnation of the word “business,” looks shaken.

Of course, that dragon tattoo tells a different story. But now isn’t a time for stories, so I don’t ask about it. Maybe later.

Theo stands behind me, his lean, shirtless body pressed against mine. His gray-white hair is damp, and his expression is intent. “Look at yourself. You glow when you’re happy.”

My heart flutters, and I grip the bathroom counter for support as I follow his order. He’s not wrong. I look different. I’m not sure I truly recognize this version of myself.

I have always loved giving a blow job. But that’s the secret to enjoying them—they have to be given willingly. Billy was ruder about it than Calvin, but neither of them was particularly patient about getting them. So I taught myself how to enjoy the process, if only to get through it more easily.

Turned out, I really liked doing it. Calvin and I were together long enough for me to figure that out, and I’m so happy I got to do this with Theo. The man needs to be shaken up loudly and often. The poor guy is always so tense whenever I see him. He needed this.

Oh, who am I kidding? I needed this.

Slowly, Theo’s hands move up my sides, reaching the hem of my shirt. I meet his gaze in the mirror, and a spark of challenge passes between us. He peels the cotton fabric over my head, tossing it aside. Warm air caresses my newly exposed skin, and I watch as my reflection changes shape—my upper body revealed in the stark motel light.

It’s not flattering at all, and nervousness has a grip on me. My boobs have faded stretch marks. My stomach is round, and my thighs…I’ve never been fond of them. A minute ago, I felt so confident. I had him by the balls. Now? I don’t know what I am.

My voice shakes. “Um, I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

But that only makes him smile. “Getting to see you naked is always a good idea.”

I appreciate the sentiment, but this feels too exposed. “It’s just…” I’m not even sure how to say it out loud. What do I say? Get me into flattering light?

But then his dark eyes fill with something like awe, and that nervous voice in my head quiets. He tours every curve with his fingertips, tracing lines on my shoulder and down my arm, as though learning my shape by touch alone. My breath catches each time he finds a new spot that makes me tremble.

He leans in close, his breath fluttering against my ear. “You’re beautiful. This part right here…” He brushes the back of his knuckles along the curve of my side, just beneath my rib cage. “Perfect.”

The way he says it, so calm and measured, sends a shiver through me. It’s not a careless compliment. It’s like he’s made a study of me and decided every inch is worth revering, no matter how I feel about it. Like he knows about all the parts of me I avoid looking at in the mirror.

My eyes drift back to the sight, and I see the flush of my skin, the shape of my hips, the excited rise and fall of my chest. I don’t know what to think, but I like seeing me through his eyes.

Theo’s hand moves lower, slipping beneath the waist of my underwear, and he takes his time peeling them down. My breath comes in short gasps as I watch the process in the mirror. Somehow, I manage to stand there, letting him undress me completely.

The reflection is mesmerizing—my figure gradually revealed, inch by inch. But the mirror stops short, and now I can’t see what he’s doing, but I feel it. His fingers graze over my thighs, never reaching between them. He kisses the back of my neck,and I can hardly keep my eyes open from the overload of sensation.

His voice rumbles, tickling the fine hairs at my nape. “Allow me a moment to state the obvious. You are exquisite, Anya. There’s a softness to your hips and thighs that captivates me every time you move.”

I swallow an objection. “I—I’m not sure I’d call it captivating. It’s just…me.”

“The curve of your waist, the fullness of your figure—each detail fascinates me. Your body is extraordinary, doll—and I consider it an honor to have witnessed your orgasm.”

I giggle. I can’t help it. “An honor?”

He nods solemnly. “Without question. Though I do have a question of my own. May I touch you more? Service you the way I wish?”

His painfully polite question is my undoing. I can’t even speak—my throat goes dry. I nod, and that’s all it takes for his fingers to slide through my folds, already so wet I can hear it when his fingers speed up. His other arm bands across my chest to reach my nipple, a finger drawing circles there. His touch sets me on fire.

I lean back, trying to angle to kiss him. But he dodges. “No, doll. Watch yourself be touched.”

I gulp and look in the mirror again, locking my gaze with myself. It’s seconds before I feel like I’m falling. Into what? I’m not sure. Theo has me; he won’t let me fall. But somehow, I feel like I’m sinking into something new.

Heat builds and builds until I’m dizzy with it. I can’t help the soft cries that escape me, shoulders bowing under the force of sensation. His touch is strong and sure. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. I see it in those hauntingly dark eyes.

He nips at my ear and murmurs, “Feel that?” Two fingers slide into me, stretching me open to him. “Feel the way you throb for me? The wetness on your thighs, the hunger deep inside?” His fingers spear deeper when he says “feel” and “inside,” like he’s weaving a spell with my body.

I can’t stop moaning, so his free hand covers my mouth. My hips jerk to angle better for him, to take him deeper. Something in that moment solidifies everything for me.

I want this. I want them. And I’m not stopping until I have them.