The Billionaire's Virgin(65)

Then she didn’t want to speak or even breathe, because the sheer relief of being exactly where she wanted to be, where she’d dreamed of being, was too intense. He was so warm, so strong, his familiar scent making her cry even harder.

He didn’t speak, lifting her up and striding out of the alleyway to where his limo was parked in the street. As he pulled open the door, she said, “My backpack. I can’t leave it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Depositing her in the car, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, reappearing seconds later with her backpack. Then he got into the limo, shutting the door on the cold and darkness outside, enclosing them in the warmth and safety of the interior.

He lifted the beanie she’d left behind and she didn’t protest when he put it on her head, pulling the soft wool down over her hair. “There,” he said quietly. “Fits perfectly, Cinderella.” Then he tugged her back into his arms without hesitation, holding her tight as if he was afraid of letting her go. She put her head on his chest, snuggling into him because she was cold, but also, she didn’t think she could bear to have any distance between them.

“You heard all that?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” She let out a shaky breath then inhaled, breathing in that luxurious, delicious scent of him.

“Christ, I’ve spent hours looking for you.” He sounded angry and shaky at the same time. “You were supposed to stay in the apartment.”

“I couldn’t. When I woke up that morning and saw your note, I was too angry with you. I didn’t want to take anything you’d left me. I didn’t want anything at all from you.”

“So you went back to the streets?” One finger caught beneath her chin, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. “Mia . . . why?”

She didn’t bother wiping away her tears. She didn’t care that he saw them. “Because the home I wanted was you. And you weren’t there.”

Tenderness and grief moved over his face. He shifted, cupping her face between his hands, bending to kiss away the tears on her cheeks. “Oh, God, sweet thing. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I was only thinking of myself.” His breath was warm against her skin. “You’ll never know how much I regret leaving. I just . . . I thought I was doing the right thing. But I wasn’t.”

“What right thing?”

He lifted his head again, staring down at her. “I was afraid I’d hurt you like I hurt my mother, that I’d screw up and break you, kill something inside you. At least that’s what I told myself. But . . . Christ, the reality was I left because I realized I was in love with you. And I couldn’t deal with it. My mom always told me that if I really loved her, I wouldn’t do the things I did that hurt her so much. But I did love her, and I guess some part of me decided that I didn’t know how to love someone without hurting them.” His thumbs moved slowly over her cheekbones, stroking her. “I thought you deserved more than that.”

Mia’s throat closed up. “You know that’s not true, don’t you?” she forced out. “I don’t know much about love, but I do know I wouldn’t feel the way I do about you if you’d hurt me. And you didn’t.”

His hands slid to cradle the back of her head in his palms. “It’s not just physical hurt. I was worried about hurting you emotionally too.”

“You didn’t do that either. Apart from leaving, of course. But like I told you, I’m pretty tough. I can handle a lot of things.” She lifted her hands, closing her fingers around his strong wrists. “What made you come back?”

His eyes were dark in the limo, his hold gentle. “Because I realized that the ranch, my mom, that was all the past. And I can’t fix that. It didn’t matter, either. What mattered was the future. What mattered was you.” He took another breath. “Christ, Mia. I could give you the world and everything in it, but it’s not the world you need, is it?”

Her heart felt too large, too full. Like a cup with too much water in it. Because he was right, she didn’t need the world. Right here, right now, there was only one thing she did need.

“No,” she said softly. “You can keep the world.”

Something in his face changed, the look in his eyes intense. “Then . . . will you take me instead?”

Mia let go one of his wrists, ran her finger along his cheekbone, his skin smooth and hot beneath her fingertip. “Stupid billionaire. All I ever wanted was you.”

He was staring at her as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of her. “I’m going to try, Mia. I won’t screw this up. I won’t—”