Page 102 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

I’m grateful he found me.And was patient enough and determined enough to keep knocking until I answered.

And now I’m falling in love with him.Heaven help me, it’s true.And I don’t know what to do with that knowledge.

What am I supposed to do?

His hands are in my hair.He adjusts the angle of my mouth so that I give him access just how he wants it.He can have whatever he wants from me.He can take it all.I need him to because I’m falling in love with him.And I don’t know how much time we have left together.

I pull his huge torso closer and spread my fingers over the breadth of his back.There’s so much raw power in this body.And sexual hunger.

I melt into his kiss and his touch.I instinctively arch my back to offer myself to him.His hands slide down my back and grab my ass.

Special K gingerly ends the kiss and rests his forehead to mine.

“I need you, Boots.”

I swear I hear a break in his voice.And those simple words may carry more than one meaning.Is it possible he feels the same way I do?

How?

He’s an honorable man, smart and intuitive with a successful ranch and tech business, a much-loved brother, son, uncle, nephew, brother-in-law, friend.

I’m a stripper on the run from the mob.I belong nowhere and to no one.

Special K reaches the countertop and taps a remote control mounted to the wall.I hear the water turn on in the shower as the bathroom lights transform from bright white to a warm and relaxing, low-light yellow-orange.It reminds me of the firelight in the cabin.

His hands are on my borrowed clothes.I raise my arms as he lifts the cotton shirt and zip-up hoodie over my head.Then he reaches down to slip the tracksuit pants off my legs, his fingers trailing along my hips, thighs, and calves.He removes my boots and socks.And he stands.

A few blond curls fall over one eye.He’s breathing hard.And when I look at his face I’m suddenly on the verge of tears.I don’t want him to see me cry.I’m so sick of crying in front of him.

He’s so handsome, and my feelings for him are so strong, that it hurts.

“You okay?”

I nod, turning my attention to him instead of the stupid, crazy, pointless feelings that are bubbling up from my heart and heading for my lips.I’m dangerously close to telling him.I want him to know.

No.

I focus on how wonderful his hard flesh feels under my hands as I slide my palms up inside his T-shirt, over the ridges of his flat stomach, up to his magnificent chest.I push the shirt as far as I can get it and he takes it the rest of the way—ripping it off over his head and throwing it across the room.

What words would I use?“I know it’s not a good time.I know I’m leaving.I know we just met and I’m not exactly a great catch, but I love you.What the hell are we going to do?”

Nope.

It’s almost comical how rotten the timing is.I couldn’t have picked a worse time to fall in love if I tried.And if I tell him how I feel, it will only make my leaving messier and add to the pain I’ll feel when I go.

The truth is still the truth: I’m leaving without him.

My focus goes to Special K’s jeans, where his enormous erection pokes beneath his half-open fly.My hands tremble as I unzip him the rest of the way.His glorious cock springs free.

He kicks off his boots and jeans and scoops me in his arms.He carries me past the frosted glass dividing wall and into a shower that’s the size of a playground.

At least ten water jets.A huge teak bench.Several different marble niches built into the shower wall at varying heights.And a collection of luxury bath products worthy of the spa inside the Vegas Fontainebleau.

This is a sexual playground.And I can’t help but wonder…

“No one,” he says before I can ask.“Never.Not in this shower, this bathroom, this bedroom suite, that bed out there, or this house.Only you.”

His statement inspires me.