Page 48 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

There were plenty of reasons guys woke up with morning wood. Dirty dreams. Sleep patterns. High testosterone levels. But Dante couldn’t remember the last time he had a reason who looked or smelled as good or who he’d shared as much with—and not just physically—as Zoe, with her ass snuggled against him and her lips curved into a satisfied smile that said she’d enjoyed their nighttime activities as much as he had.

For a long moment, he stared down at her, barely daring to breathe for fear he’d wake her. She looked so damn beautiful and peaceful, like Botticelli’sVenus, her hair splayed in all directions and her pristine skin seeming to glow from his caresses.

Not wanting to start something he couldn’t finish, he eased himself away from her. He needn’t have worried. The second he stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched one leg behind her, entwining it with his, trapping him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“We had a busy night, and you were sleeping so soundly. I thought you might be worn out.”

She reached up to run a hand across the early morning stubble dotting his jaw. “Do I seem worn out to you?”

He turned his head to kiss her palm. “You seem ready and—how do you Americans say it?—raring to go.”

“So do you.” She arched her back, pressing into him. “No regrets about last night?”

He pressed back, sliding his cock between her ass cheeks. “Does this feel like regret?”

“No.” She rolled over to face him, and the sheet slipped to her waist, exposing her breasts to his greedy gaze. “It feels like repeat performance number four.”

“Then I better get performing.”

He stripped away the sheet, uncovering them both, and gave her a long, lingering kiss before sliding down the length of her body until his head was nestled between her legs. He put a palm on each thigh, spreading them wider.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked. “Because you’re going to be here for a while.”

She nodded, and he flicked his tongue over the skin below her belly button. She let out a sexy little hiss, and he licked lower, brushing the patch of golden curls above her sex. This time her hiss was longer, ending on a low moan, encouraging him to move lower still.

He made good on his promise, taking his time with her, tasting her with long, leisurely licks that brought her to the brink of ecstasy before backing off and starting the whole wickedly torturous process over again. He’d had her this way last night, too, after they’d used their only condom and found more creative ways to enjoy each other’s bodies. But it hadn’t been enough, and he had the frightening feeling he’d never get his fill of her.

She fisted her hands in the sheet and raised her hips, letting him know she needed release and she needed it now. As tempted as he was to delay her gratification, he didn’t have the willpower to postpone his own need to claim her, to feel her writhe and buck beneath him and hear her call out his name as she came.

One of her hands moved to his head, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking his face into her. He flattened a palm over her stomach to keep her still and gave her what they both wanted, slipping a finger inside her and working his tongue against her folds until she flooded his mouth, ripples of pleasure coursing through her body.

When the tremors finally stopped, she released her death grip on his hair and let her head fall back onto the pillow, her eyes closed. “That was—”

He kissed the inside of her thigh. “Outstanding? Unforgettable? Mind-blowing?”

“Quite a way to wake up,” she finished.

He crawled up her body and folded her into his arms, his cock, still rock-hard and wet with his arousal, brushing against her belly. She cracked one eye open and reached down to take him in her hand.

“I have a confession to make,” she said on a whisper.

“A confession?” Her words seemed far away, like she was underwater. It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying with her fingers wrapped around his dick.

“I heard you.”

Her hand squeezed, and his cock swelled even harder.

“Heard me what?”

“That night, after we kissed. I was out on my balcony and I heard you. In your room.” She ran her thumb through the moisture at his tip. “Touching yourself.”

“Why, you little minx,” he growled. “Tell me,carina. Did you enjoy it? Did you picture your fingers replacing mine, circling me, stroking me, driving me insane with lust like you’re doing now?”

“Yes,” she said. “And…”

Her voice trailed off.