Billionaire Boys Club 5 : Romancing the Billionaire(47)

Her eyes flew open. "W-what-"

He silenced her protest with another fervent kiss. "Let me do this, Violet. I won't ask for anything more. Let me make you feel good."

Another tiny whimper rose in her throat. Her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn't push him away. Instead, he felt her fingers dig into his hair at the nape of his neck.

She was holding tighter to him.

Triumphant, Jonathan pressed his mouth to her jaw and began to issue quick, desperate kisses to her soft skin. God, she was lovely. He craved her like oxygen. He'd longed for that blissful look that was currently on her face. It haunted his dreams, made it impossible for him to see another woman. Not when Violet was still consuming his mind.

He nibbled at her throat, licking and nipping the soft skin there, waiting for her to push him away, to protest that this wasn't what friends did. But she only moaned and clung to him, and he had to fight back his own groan of delight. She was enjoying his touch. 

He vowed then and there that he'd make it so damn good for her that she'd come back for more. This time, it'd be all about her. Pleasuring her. Watching her face light up with ecstasy. Feeling her tremble in his arms. That would be satisfaction enough for him.

And he'd take nothing for himself. Because there was nothing on earth that could compare with the softest flutter of Violet's eyelashes in response to his touch. Nothing he could do that would bring him half as much pleasure as making her quiver.

He wanted to do more than just kiss her on her face and neck. An image of him burying his face between her legs surged into his mind and he had to bite back his response. If this was about Violet, she had to want it, too. He'd have to kiss her and caress her until she was begging for it.

And he remembered that his Violet loved to be touched more than anything.

Jonathan brushed a hand up and down her arm, enjoying the feel of her small frame under his. She was wearing a long-sleeved knit top that he wanted to rip off so he could feel the soft skin underneath, but he'd follow her lead. His hand smoothed over her shoulder and brushed over her nape, caressing.

She moaned in response, her head tilting back even as she pressed her body closer in his arms. "Jonathan," she breathed.

God, he loved the sound of his name on her lips. "I'm here," he murmured softly, gliding his hands over her clothed form, stroking down her back and then smoothing over her hip.

"Your hands feel unbelievable," she told him. "Why do you feel so incredible?"

"Because I know just how you like to be touched," he told her, nipping at her ear. "Your body remembers how good I can be to you."

She shuddered against him. For a moment, he worried he'd pushed her too hard, but then her mouth pressed against his neck and she practically crawled into his lap. "Touch me."

"Take off your top," he told her. "Then I can touch you everywhere."

She hesitated for a moment, and his heart thudded a warning. Had he lost her? But she only opened her eyes and gave him a dazed look. "What . . . what about . . ." She licked her lips. "Will someone see?"

"Violet, love, we're at thirty thousand feet. There's no one on this jet but you and me and the pilot, and he's not coming out of the cockpit. We're completely alone." For the first time that evening, he was thankful they'd elected to fly without an attendant hovering. It truly was just him and Violet in the back of the small jet, and he intended to take full advantage of the situation.

She licked her lips again, sitting back in her chair, indecision on her lovely face. "If you're sure . . ."

"I won't do anything you don't want," he told her, brushing the back of his knuckles along the sweetly stubborn curve of her jaw. "Never."

"I want you to keep touching me," she admitted, reaching for him.

He dragged her into his lap this time, pushing the armrest between them up into the chair. She went into his arms eagerly, her hands on his shoulders and her thighs straddling his. His c**k nestled between the part of her legs and he was unable to stop the groan from escaping his throat. He had to remain in control; this was about her, not him.

But she gave a little wiggle in his lap at his response, as if she enjoyed hearing it. Her hand slid down the front of his shirt, pressing against his muscles. "Will you take this off for me? I want to look at you."




 

 

She wanted to look at him? "If it'd give you pleasure," Jonathan said.

She nodded, the expression in her eyes eager, hungry.

He sat upright in the chair and Violet clung to him as he carefully maneuvered and pulled the T-shirt over his head without dumping her off of his lap. Then he sat back again, drawing her against him.