Trusting the Billionaire (Weston Brothers Book 2) by C.C. Snow

Author:C.C. Snow [Snow, C.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-11-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

We hardly left his bed on Sunday except to use the bathroom and to get food when we were too hungry. We didn’t spend every minute having sex, but it was damn close. By the time evening fell, I was so sore I was afraid I’d be walking funny for days. Many intimate muscles were protesting after a two-year hiatus.

I laid my head on Troy’s bicep, my mind still dazed from the last orgasm. He ran his hand up my waist until he reached my breast.

“I cry mercy,” I moaned, amazed by his stamina.

He muffled a laugh and pressed a closed-mouth kiss on my lips. “Baby, I’m pretty sure I’m numb below the waist.” He circled his thumb around my nipple, making it pebble. “I just want to touch you. Your skin is so soft.”

I pushed away his hand. “I’m too sensitive.” He had discovered how much I liked having my breasts stimulated and drove me crazy with his teeth. Now the slightest touch was more pain than pleasure. I wouldn’t be surprised if I still felt tender tomorrow.

“Sorry, I’ll be gentler next time,” he said, genuine contrition in his voice. “I’ve been fantasizing for months about having you in my bed and I went a little overboard.”

Despite the ache between my legs, I didn’t regret one minute of it. “It’s not like I was complaining.”

He tipped my chin to look at him. “Which is why you’re perfect for me.”

My heart fluttered too fast and my breath hitched. I didn’t know if it was from panic or from pleasure. “I’m far from perfect.”

“You’re right.” He grinned when I glared at him. “But you’re perfect for me.”

Panic. It was panic. I couldn’t bear to see his face when he realized how imperfect I was.

He must have seen my distress because he kissed my nose lightly and asked, “Why don’t we go out for dinner?”

“Okay,” I assented with alacrity. Maybe being among other people would give me some perspective on the speed and intensity of our connection.

We took a quick shower—it would’ve been quicker if he didn’t keep distracting me—and got dressed.

We walked to a small French bistro near his apartment. The food was utterly decadent. Over grilled salmon and veal paillard, we talked about inconsequential things, such as books and movies we liked. Troy liked non-fiction and I liked classical literature, but we both enjoyed action films.

After our server, Tracy, took away our dinner plates, she brought us the dessert menu. I reviewed the offerings and said with a smirk in my voice, “I think I’ll have the chocolate mousse.”

Troy choked on a laugh. “Too bad they don’t have panna cotta. I have a particular fondness for the two combined.”

I grinned and nudged his foot with mine. “That’s only available at Chez Elle.”

He reached across the table and played with my hand. “I’ve dined there. Definitely three stars.”

My mouth dropped open in shock at his dirty joke and he chortled. Face reddening, I leaned toward him and whispered, “You are a terrible man.

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