A Billionaire for Christmas(73)
He leaned a hip against the counter. “Take off the rest of your clothes.” Would she follow his lead, or had he come on too strong?
When perfect white teeth mutilated her bottom lip, he couldn’t decide if she was intending to drive him crazy by delaying or if she was perhaps now a bit shy. Without responding verbally, she tugged off her knee-length boots and removed her trim black slacks. The only article of clothing that remained, her tiny panties, was a perfect match to her blush-pink bra.
“The floor is cold,” she complained as she kicked aside the better part of her wardrobe.
His hands clenched the edge of the counter behind him. Lord, she was a handful. And gorgeous to boot. “You’re not done,” he said with far more dispassion than he felt.
Phoebe thrust out her bottom lip and straightened her shoulders. “I don’t know why you have to be so bossy.”
“Because you like it.” He could see the excitement building in her wide-eyed stare as she reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. It fell to the floor like a wispy pink cloud. Though she hesitated for a brief moment, she continued disrobing, stepping out of her small undies with all the grace of a seasoned stripper.
She twirled the panties on the end of her finger. “Come and get me.”
He literally saw red. His vision hazed and he felt every molecule of moisture leach from his mouth. Quickly, with razor-sharp concentration that belied the painful ache in his groin, he assessed the possibilities. Beside the refrigerator, some genius architect had thought to install a desk that matched the rest of the kitchen. The marble top was the perfect height for what Leo had in mind.
Forget the sofa or the bedroom or any other damned part of his house. He was going to take her here.
He could barely look at Phoebe without coming apart at the seams. Young and strong and healthy, she was the epitome of womanhood. Her dark hair fell over one shoulder, partially veiling one raspberry nipple. “You’re beautiful, Phoebe.”
The raw sincerity in his strained voice must have told her that the time for games was over. Surprised pleasure warmed her eyes. “I’m glad you think so.” She licked her lips. “Do you plan on staying over there forever?”
“I don’t know,” he said in all seriousness. “The way I feel at the moment, I’m afraid I’ll take you like a madman.”
Her lips curved. “Is that a bad thing?”
“You tell me.” Galvanized at last into action by a yearning that could no longer be denied, he picked her up by the waist and sat her on the desk. Phoebe yelped when the cold surface made contact with her bottom, but she exhaled on a long, deep sigh as the sensation subsided.
He ripped at his zipper and freed his sex. He was as hard as the marble that surrounded them, but far hotter. Sheathing himself with fumbling hands, he stepped between her legs. “Prop your feet on the desk, honey.”
Phoebe’s cooperation was instant, though her eyes rounded when she realized what he was about to do.
He positioned himself at the opening of her moist pink sex and shoved, one strong thrust that took him all the way. He held her bottom for leverage and moved slowly in and out. Phoebe’s arms linked around his neck in a stranglehold. Her feet lost their purchase and instead, she linked her ankles behind his waist.
It would be embarrassing if she realized that his legs were trembling and his heart was doing weird flips and flops that had nothing to do with his recent health event. Phoebe made him forget everything he thought was important and forced him to concentrate on the two of them. Not from any devious machinations on her part, but because she was so damned cute and fun.