I Married a Billionaire (20 page)

Being perfectly honest, the word "like" didn't even begin to cover it. But I wasn't going to let myself go there. Not just yet.

"Maddy..." He looked at me with an expression that was some strange mix of hope and trepidation, mixed with relief, mixed with…

"Hey," I said. "Let's not get too carried away. We've known each other for what…eight months?"

"And yet, you're my wife."

Such simple words, coming out of his mouth - but suddenly, they took on a whole new meaning.

"I know," I said. "But all the same."

"All the same," he agreed, his shoulders relaxing a little.

I leaned back on the sofa and rested against him, letting his arm drape over my shoulders. Just like a real couple. And for once, that thought didn't come with a side of heartache.

"Oh - Maddy?" he said, after a long silence.

I stirred. "Yeah?"

"Please don't tell my sister," he said. "She'll never shut up about being right."

The guest room door popped open. "I heard that, you jackass."

I woke up slowly, to the sun peeking in through the blinds. Stirring in bed, I realized I was wrapped up in a tight embrace.

"Good morning," Daniel murmured in my ear. I smiled, slowly.

"G'morning," I managed, as he pressed soft, insistent kisses on the side of my face. I rolled over to face him, not even protesting when he kissed me on the mouth - that was a fight I'd given up long ago, once I was confident that when he said he didn't care about my morning breath, he really, 
really
 meant it.

The scarlet rope was still coiled up on the floor where we'd left it, after last night's activities. Over time, it had grown more smooth and supple, curling around my body like a second skin. I remembered how it had made me feel, mere hours before - how 
he
had made me feel - and I shivered against the heat of his skin.

His fingers drifted along my body with a feather-light touch, igniting a slow fire deep inside. I was still sore from last night, but apparently I hadn't gotten enough. I made a quiet, encouraging 
hmmm
 as his hand dipped lower.

I thought he'd known just how to touch me the first time we were together, but he'd only gotten better at reading my body and giving me what I wanted, often before I even knew what it was.

His fingers slipped between my folds, teasing me. Testing me.

I slid my leg up over his hip, spreading myself open. He smiled, and I felt his hardness nudge against me. I was still sleepy, but my body was wide awake and ready. I tilted my head back as he slid into me - agonizingly slow, but so perfectly satisfying.

He filled me up just the same as he'd always done, but the feeling of skin on skin was still new, still intoxicating. I rolled my hips with his movements. He reached down to caress me, his fingers rubbing slow circles just where I needed them. I let out a small noise, my eyelids going heavy. He'd hit the sweet spot, and he knew it. He was watching my expressions carefully, our faces so close that our noses were almost touching.

Sometimes we played games - ropes and handcuffs, pretending to be people that we weren't. Sometimes he would bring me to the edge and then pull me back, again and again, just to assert himself, to remind me that I could control my own body if he demanded it of me. And I had grown to love those games. As frustrating as they could be, they comforting. Dependable. Intimate.

But sometimes, there were no games.

Sometimes it was just us, with no artifice. No mitigations or apologies. I wouldn't necessarily say that I preferred one way to the other, but it was awfully nice to have both.

This morning, it was just us.

He was my husband, not my billionaire boss who'd once tried to buy a year of my life. That was our past. Until recently, our future had been unsure. But now, it was clear there was no longer any need for a contract to keep us together.

I melted into his touch, breathless and quivering in his arms. I'd never understood how he could reduce me to this with just the slow, steady rhythm of his hand - but I certainly wasn't about to complain.

Then, just like that, I shattered. Somewhere in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure, I felt him thrust deep inside me, one last time, his open mouth connecting with my shoulder, teeth sinking in just far enough to leave a red mark.

When I blinked back to life, Daniel was smiling and stroking my hair. He kissed the tip of my nose, and I made a face.

"Happy anniversary," he said, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

I grinned. "Has it been a year already?"

"I know," he replied, lightly grabbing a handful of my hair. "It's a shame, isn't it? I don't own you anymore."

"We'll just have your lawyer draft up something new," I said.

He chuckled, pulling me close and kissing my forehead.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too," I muttered, against his chest.

I closed my eyes, and just breathed.

-

Melanie Marchande is a young writer who loves creating fun, flirty, and occasionally steamy stories about two people realizing they just can't live without each other. If you'd like to read more from her, please leave a review letting her know what you liked about the book so she knows what to write next! You can also connect with her online:

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