One Night with a Billionaire

And Cade was gorgeous and Kylie was basking in his attention and that oh-so-brief kiss and the Patron was muddying her head and it was late and she possibly wasn’t thinking too clearly herself.

Because she wanted this man, and he wanted her.

What could possibly go wrong with that?

So she bit her lip, leaned forward, and pressed her mouth to his in a silent answer to his question.

SIX

Kissing Cade Archer was better than ice cream. Sweet, creamy chocolate ice cream with hot fudge dripping down the sides? Tasty, but not nearly as appealing to her senses as the warm breath of the man kissing her. Of his tongue slicking against her own in response to her kiss. Of his mouth opening wider to accept her tongue. Of the groan he made when their mouths locked, and the way his hand stole down to her ass and clenched her against him as if she were beautiful and sexy and he wanted her like he wanted no other woman.

And when her mouth parted from his, a small, dreamy sigh escaped her.

“Want to go inside?” Cade murmured, and cupped her face with his long fingers.

“I shouldn’t.”

“The question wasn’t whether or not you should, but if you wanted to,” he said, and one of his fingers traced her full lips again.

She took that fingertip between her teeth and licked the tip. “More than anything.”

“Then let’s not overthink it. Let’s just feel for a night.”

That sounded kind of wonderful. She nodded and he gave her another quick kiss, then took her by the hand and led her back into the hotel room. He flicked off lights as he went, leading her through the maze of rooms.

And then they were in the opulent bedroom. The walls were a soft warm wood, the drapes a pale cream color. The bed was a sumptuous king with a quilted white headboard and dozens of pillows tossed onto it. It looked like something out of a dream. “This is like no hotel room I’ve ever stayed in before.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it? You should see the bathroom.”

“Can I?”

He gestured at a door off of the bedroom. “Be my guest.”

She wandered in and gasped at the sight. It was beyond luxury—a rain shower; a sunken, jetted tub; thick, plush carpets—it had everything. She peeked at a door off to one side and laughed to see exercise equipment. “My goodness. This place is bigger than my last apartment.”

“Mmm. Then I’m glad you’re here to enjoy it.”

He pulled her against him, pressing her back against his front. His arms went around her waist and he nuzzled at her neck, brushing her hair aside and kissing her nape.

Kylie shivered. Her instinct was to draw Cade’s hands away from her waist so he wouldn’t figure out how fat she was—but that was stupid, of course. He knew just how big she was. She wasn’t a slim girl. Her breasts were big, her hips were big, and there was no hiding that. So she forced herself to relax in his arms. If he hated the way she looked, well, she’d never see him again, would she?

So she turned around, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him in for a long, scorching kiss. Her tongue played against his, then flicked against his lips. “I’ve seen enough in here. I think we should go back to the bedroom.”

Cade groaned and gripped her ass in his hands. “I couldn’t agree more.” But he didn’t stop kissing her. Instead, he walked backward in small, slow steps, heading back toward the bedroom. And she giggled against his mouth, still kissing him in return.

Mouths locked the entire time, they staggered back to the bedroom. She accidentally stepped on his foot and he winced. “Sorry,” she breathed.

“I can carry you the rest of the way,” he told her between kisses. His blue eyes were heavily lidded with passion and fringed by dark blond lashes, and she couldn’t stop staring at that sultry gaze. He was gorgeous, right down to his sinfully pouty mouth. No man should have a mouth that pretty, Kylie decided. It was just darn wrong.

And then she realized what that pretty mouth was saying. “Carry? Me?”

He nodded and moved to put a hand behind her legs, and she quickly stumbled out of his grip. “Wait, no!”

“What’s wrong?”

“You must be really drunk if you think you can carry me,” she told him. She was a nice, solid size eighteen, and there was no fudging that number. “I don’t look like Daphne.”

“Thank fucking Christ for that,” he said, and put his hands at the sides of her neck and drew her in for another searing kiss. “I love the way you look,” he murmured against her mouth. “I love your lush body. It’s one of the reasons I’m attracted to you.” His hands slid to her shoulders, and then down her arms, and he studied her with pleasure. “Your breasts. Your hips. Your curves. Your softness. Fuck, you’re pretty.”