Page 59 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

If I had to guess, I’d say that once the adrenaline of what just happened fades and she realizes how bold she’s been, she’ll retreat again.

Adeela has a naturally shy nature, though she’s shown more than once that, when aroused, the good girl disappears and a wildcat takes her place.

And I can’t decide which version of her I prefer. Or maybe it would be more honest to admit that every side of her fascinates me.

“Were you serious about what you said to her?” I ask.

“About what?”

I slide my hands into my pockets to stop myself from walking toward her, because she looks far too tempting in that dress, her cheeks still flushed from the confrontation with Ingrid. “About going crazy if she ever came near me again.”

She shrugs lightly. “I think I’m jealous.”

“You think?”

“How can I be sure? You’re my firsteverything.”

Damn. That doesn’t help my self-control at all.

It’s primitive, but human, the way I feel like some Neanderthal every time she looks at me as if she’s asking to be taught. Knowing that her body is like a blank page we’ll write on together, one chapter at a time.

“I’d like to see you lose control,” I admit.

“Angry?”

“No. Out of control.”

“How?”

“Maybe this isn’t the best place for a demonstration.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m far from perfect and you’re irresistible. I’d never want to do anything that could hurt you.”

“You’d never hurt me.”

“Not on purpose.”

“Then how?”

“You know how much I want you, Adeela. You’re innocent, untouched...but you can feel how my body reacts every time you’re near me.”

“When you say things like that,” she whispers, “I want to tell you to stop...and at the same time, I want to ask for more. Does that make any sense?”

“How much more?” I take a slow step toward her.

“I don’t know. But I liked . . .”

“Liked what?”

She glances away, unable to meet my eyes. “The things you said to me in that dressing room.”

I take the risk, unsure how far I should go. I walk to the lamp and turn it on, letting its soft glow replace the harsh ceiling light. Maybe she’ll feel safer that way.

“Sit down,” I say quietly. “I just want to look at you.”

She hesitates, then sits.