The Billionaire Book Club

My heart in my throat at his brutally honest but altogether great answer, I don’t even think about my next move. From one moment to the next, all I do is feel.

And that’s how my lips end up on his.

It’s a crash landing, limbs and hair and body completely out of control, but he somehow cushions it expertly. His hands come out to my hips to steady me, and his lips take charge of mine.

“So good,” he whispers against my mouth. “So damn good.”

I sigh with relief—I’ve been fighting this feeling for so, so long—and scoot more fully into his arms.

He pushes me back, and I draw my eyebrows together. But he doesn’t allow my confusion to hang around for long. Up and over my head, my sweatshirt departs my body thanks to his hands.

I stand in front of him, and he pulls my hips forward to more fully place me between his legs.

Cap’s hands skate along my sides, down the fabric of my tank top all the way to the hem. Fingertips trail along the skin, and goose bumps pebble in their wake.

I can’t look away from his amber eyes, from the depth of color swirled with arousal sparkling in the moonlight, and he doesn’t want me to. Silent communication is apparently one of his hidden talents.

The hem of my tank skirts up slightly, just enough for him to get the full width of his hands on my skin, and my belly drops all the way into my toes.

He rubs around the back of my hips and forward again, and every part of me tingles. I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like when he touches me somewhere else, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out.

My heart is racing, but for the first time since I met Caplin Hawkins, it’s not because I think I should stop.

No. I know I should.

But it feels too good, and according to everyone around me, the thing I need most is to let go and live.

And by God, I can’t think of a better way to do it.

“God, you’re beautiful, Ruby.” Leaning forward slowly, Cap puts his lips to the skin of my stomach in a terrifyingly gentle kiss. My eyes fall closed on their own, and my fingers tense into the fabric at his shoulders.

His approach is so different from what I expected—slow and torturous rather than hard and fast.

I always imagined he’d have sex like he lives life—bold and passionate and loud. I can’t explain this. My brain can’t understand it.

When he pulls his mouth back from my stomach, the button and zipper of my jeans are undone as though influenced by magic.

I never even felt the movement, never felt his hands there as they worked to open up everything, and I have to giggle a little. I can’t help it.

“Wow,” I remark as I do. “You are good.”

Cap’s answering smile is both brilliant and wicked, and before I know it, I’m going up, compliments of his hands at my ass, and then down, landing on my back on the seat.

He covers me with his weight, his eyes full of a sexy gleam, and he ghosts his hand out and up into the back of my hair.

My neck arches at his command, and the feel of his lips as they settle on my mine makes me gasp.

His tongue is an opportunist. It traces the gap before slipping inside, and our tongues tangle in time with our legs.

We are wrapped in each other, trapped in each other, and the speed of our intimacy breaks all land-speed records.

Regardless of the seemingly quick progression, I’m surprised to find it doesn’t feel that way. All I feel is…right.

I arch up into the heat of his body, and he moves his free hand up along the skin of my side. I shiver and moan a little, and he swallows it greedily with his mouth.

“That’s it,” he coaches, apparently satisfied by my sounds. “Don’t think. Just feel, Ruby.”

I let my legs fall open, and he doesn’t wait to settle his hips between them.

He feels deliciously heavy on top of me. I barely breathe as his lips trail a path from my ear to the hollow of my collarbone, and he notices.

His fingers tense in my sides, and his lips go to my ear. “Relax,” he whispers. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

I smirk at his cheekiness and drop my head back to the seat below me. It exposes my neck to his lips, and he doesn’t waste the opportunity.

Slow, languid kisses dot an arrow from my jaw to my chest and tingle in the chilly air as he pulls away.

“Fuck, I want you. Badly,” he whispers, and my pants disappear swiftly down my legs and his promptly follow.

I watch as he maneuvers his muscled legs free of the material, a huge bulge sticking out of the front of his black boxer briefs. My mouth feels hungry, desperate to take a taste of him, but everything about this exchange is more urgent.