The Billionaire's Virgin(32)

Her face was sharp and delicate, her dark eyes wide and looking up into his. There were no shadows under them now, her pale skin made even paler by the contrast of the thick, glossy black mass of curls that fell to her shoulders.

It kicked at him again, that jolt of feeling, the desire he’d felt last night as he’d looked at her in her bath. He didn’t know why he felt that way about her, but over the past couple of weeks of seeing her at the shelter, of having her here in his apartment, of watching over her the night before, he’d come to think of her as his.

He wanted to make her comfortable. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to make sure she was well and happy. He wanted to protect her.

And he was beginning to think he wanted to touch her as well.

Gently, experimentally, he pulled her closer, so that she wasn’t quite up against him, but near enough.

Her eyes widened even more, her body tensing in his grip. She was very warm, the lingering perfume of the bath oil and her own delicate, musky scent making him want to get her even closer.

He’d never watched a woman’s face like this before. Never been so completely fascinated by the expressions crossing it or curious about what they meant and why she felt that way. Sure, he liked to know how a weapon worked and when it was broken, how to fix it. And he was curious about which chemicals did what and how they interacted with one another—especially when it came to blowing things up.

But women? His only interest was in getting them off so they could then get him off. It was a simple yet effective equation. He didn’t spend a lot of time getting to know them or spend lots of effort on the ones that didn’t want him. It was all about getting his needs met, and he didn’t need anything more from them but sex. End of story.

Mia, though. She was something different. Maybe it was because she was the one who needed, and what she needed was everything. And not only that, she’d let him be the one to meet those needs. She wasn’t a woman who trusted lightly, that was obvious. And yet, she’d trusted him.

Sure, he’d made it kind of difficult for her to do anything else but trust him. Yet . . . he hadn’t missed the way she’d started toward him when Lorenzo had looked like he was actually going to take up Xavier’s dare and punch him in the face. And he didn’t think it was because she wanted to see what was going to happen. In fact, he’d bet every one of the millions that had bought this penthouse—his father’s millions—that she’d been coming to protect him.

It made his chest feel hollow and tight as a drum. Made him want to pull her even closer, feel her slight, slender body up against his. Watch those bright black eyes go wide with surprise, then dawn into pleasure.

Something told him that she hadn’t slept with many guys before—not that he gave a shit how many she might’ve slept with because he sure as hell wasn’t one to throw stones. But if that was the case, if she was very inexperienced, then he needed to take this slow, needed to be gentle. Christ, he needed to be gentle anyway, because it was obvious she didn’t like people getting close.

“What are you doing?” Her voice wasn’t quite so fragile now. It had a husky edge to it, her gaze dipping to his mouth then back again.

He knew what that meant.

“Conducting an experiment.” He eased her even closer, so the softness of the robe wrapped around her was pressed between them.

She shivered. “L-Let me go.”

He didn’t. “Do you really want me to?”

“I. . . .” She stopped, her dark eyes dropping to his mouth once more. “I said I wasn’t going to give you sex.”

He guessed it was obvious what he was doing, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it, not when the warmth of her was beginning to seep through that robe. Making him imagine things like sliding his hands beneath it to touch her pale skin, running run his fingers all over her slight curves, making her gasp and sigh and shift underneath his hands.

Had anyone given her that? Had anyone ever made her feel good? He wanted to do that. He wanted to be the one to show her what it was all about.

“You don’t have to give me anything.” He shifted his grip so his hands were on her hips. “What about if I gave you something instead?”

“But I don’t want sex.” Her hands came down over his and rested there. Color had crept into her cheeks, easing the sharpness of her features and making her eyes glow.

Christ, she was beautiful. The moment he’d seen her in the shelter, he’d known she was something special. Now, it was obvious. Oh sure, her face was too pointed too be conventionally beautiful, but she was stunning all the same.