His Runaway Bride (Alphalicious Billionaires 7)

“Yeah. Smothered it with a massive set of oven mitts they had back there. The things went up to my shoulders. They did an adequate job.”

“That’s amazing. You’re seriously a hero. The place probably got saved from burning down because of you.”

Cason’s eyes narrowed, but only because his lids looked heavier. “What were you saying about fantasies?”

“Well…” She couldn’t believe she was being honest like she was. Maybe the whisky was slow in kicking in, loosening up her tongue. “I- I thought about you like this. Naked. Pressed up against me. Our skin together. I- I did what I just did and then I washed you.” She glanced around. “But you don’t have any shampoo or soap.”

A shadow filtered over Cason’s face, but he blinked, and it was gone. “Fuck the soap. You want to touch me? You can touch me all day long. All night long. Whatever.”

“You- you wouldn’t mind?”

“You just told me you imagined me naked, pressed up against you, also naked, then imagined sucking me off, all while you sat across from me at a diner, looking perfectly composed. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Noemi snorted in surprise. “I- I know that sounds awful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s not awful. And there’s nothing wrong with you. Biology isn’t something anyone can control, at least not in their own mind.”

“But I acted on it. Right now.”

“I’m glad that you did. We’re attracted to each other. We’re both adults. Why can’t we enjoy a night of pleasure?” Something else flitted across his face, but he twisted away from her and turned in a slow circle, letting her get a good look of all of him.

And all of him was incredibly impressive. His ass should get a world record for being so tight and muscular. Bounce a quarter off of it? She thought about the stupid saying and nearly laughed out loud. She could bounce a freaking brick off it from fifty feet and it would probably shatter on that ass.

Her eyes strayed up and even though he was already turning back around to the front, she caught sight of the ridged scar, white and puckered with time and age, on his back just above his left hip.

Her hand snaked out and caressed the scar. It was about four inches long and easily that wide. Puckered and raised, the skin was smooth under her fingertips, but that wrong kind of smooth that came from having to heal hard trauma.

“What happened?” she breathed.

Cason laughed, but it sounded strained and forced. “Tree fort incident. I was fucking around with some friends when I was fifteen. Being stupid. That was the end result.”

“You didn’t get stitches?” Her fingers traced the pattern, but it was so irregular, almost square, that she couldn’t believe that a neat row of stitches had ever put him back together.

“Nah. Didn’t want to bother with it. It healed up on its own.”

She wanted to protest. Wanted to say that it must have hurt like the devil, but that was obvious. It was a wicked looking scar. Cason didn’t edge away, but she dropped her hand. She was touching his body and he was letting her, but he was still really a stranger and so was she and she shouldn’t be acting so familiar with him, like she had a right to his intimacy and his secrets.

Right on cue, Cason’s stomach growled loudly. Since they were enclosed in glass, the sound seemed to bounce around the shower. She stared up at him in surprise, her body temperature rising as she watched beads of water slick over his shoulders and roll down a chest that should also end up in some records book. All of him should be cast into a statue and put up for sale at an art show. She couldn’t imagine the entire world not wanting to look at a man as beautiful as him.

Her stomach tightened painfully, her nipples felt like beaded shards of glass and her sex throbbed agonizingly. She was thankful the shower masked how wet she was, because she was aching. She was debating about whether it was appropriate to ask Cason to pick her up and drill her into the glass and keep fucking her until she was raw and beyond sore, when he edged past her and shut off the spray.

“Can I be the most clichéd date and ask you if you’d like to order in pizza and watch a movie?”

Her mouth dropped open. “You mean- like- cuddle? On the couch?”

“If it’s not in your fantasy, I can offer pizza and then-”

“No- sorry. I- that was incredibly rude. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not… normally like this.”

He raised a brow until he was almost smirking. “No? What are you normally like?”

“Never mind. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply- I- I’ll just shut up now. I’m starving. You’re starving. Let’s do that. The movie. The pizza.”