The Billionaire's Heart

Chapter Three

Samira loved her bedroom. It was bright and modern with high walls and ceramic floor-tiles. When she’d first moved in, she’d made her mark on it by hanging up her favourite colourful art and buying funky furniture, such as the gold-framed double bed and the red velvet couch in the corner. The view of the ocean through the huge balcony doors was the feature she loved the most. Sometimes she would sit in bed for hours, snuggled up with a cup of tea, staring at the blue sky ahead and the sea-view, mesmerised as the tide rolled in and out. Other times, she would stand on the wooden balcony and listen to the sounds of nature – the birds singing and the waves crashing in the distance – remembering how lucky she was to be free. To be here.

Tonight, she felt warm and horny after all that alcohol, spiced food, and wonderful company over dinner. She closed the drapes, stripped off her summer dress, then padded nak**ed into her attached bathroom, looking forward to standing under the warm water – where she planned to pleasure herself and think about the man who was hopefully lying on his bed thinking about her right now. She couldn’t get Ivan’s gorgeous body and handsome face out of her mind. He was so charming. There was something captivating about him – he was so different to the other men she’d met since she’d arrived here – men who just seemed to want to get her into bed or to talk to her like she was some dumb foreigner.

But Ivan seemed sincere and friendly. Maybe it was because he was such a close friend of Tariq’s – he was like a big brother to her already. But the difference was, of course, she was sexually attracted to Ivan in ways that she certainly wasn’t to her male relations. She could barely contain her excitement about the pleasure she was about to have in the shower – she was planning to fantasise about Ivan f**king her from behind and rubbing soapsuds into her bre**asts. She grabbed her waterproof vibrator, positioned it on the edge of the bathtub, then leaned over to turn the shower dial, and –

Nothing happened. Shit. The dial was stuck fast. Frustration spiralled through her – she’d so been looking forward to enjoying that supreme pleasure. But this had happened once before and she’d managed to hit the stuck dial with a wrench for ten minutes until it had finally dislodged back into place. She sighed... Okay, it wasn’t going to repair itself – this was what it was like when you were an independent woman living alone. Samira’s toolbox was in the kitchen, so she grabbed her short satin nightdress and pulled it on, then she jogged down the stairs – with her plans of pleasure abandoned for now.

She knew Tariq was out and Ivan was in bed, so she swanned into the kitchen – then screamed and almost jumped out of her skin. Ivan was sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open in front of him, staring at her nightdress-clad body. He was wearing glasses, which made him look even sexier than ever. And no shirt; just jeans.

“Shit, Ivan,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I thought you were in bed. I would’ve put more clothes on – I don’t usually wander around with my as**s hanging out of a teeny nightie when we’ve got company!”

“No problem.” He threw her a smirk. “It’s a very nice as**s.”

Samira laughed. “Thank you. I just came to get my wrench. My shower dial’s stuck.”

He stood up. “You want me to take a look?”

“No, it’s okay.” She threw him a grin. “It’s nothing a girl can’t handle herself.”

Still feeling self-consciously under-dressed, she strode to the cupboard under the sink and pulled it open to grab her toolbox. Unfortunately she didn’t get that far, because something heavy dropped out and landed hard on her foot – after bouncing off her knee. She jumped back and squealed, cursing the wrench that she now remembered she’d shoved back in the cupboard, without checking it was properly secure.

Ivan darted over to help as she grabbed her knee and hopped on one leg, groaning in pain. He put his arms around her. “Come here, Samira. Oh bless you – you’re gonna have a bruise there.”

He pulled her into his strong arms and she sunk into his bare chest, biting back the tears of pain. But the zigzagging agony in her foot was a small price to pay for this treat of receiving comfort from the sexiest man she’d ever met.

“Alright?” he asked.

Samira nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ll live.”

He eased back and gazed into her eyes. “Come and sit down.”

He draped his arm around her and she limped over to the chair where he’d been sitting. Her body was trembling, but possibly not from the shock of being attacked by the wrench. This man was incredible. She sat down and her heart squeezed with joy as Ivan sunk to his knees and rubbed her foot in his big strong hands – tenderly soothing away the pain.

? Also By Julie Farrell

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