New York Billionaires Series

Audrey’s hand grips my shoulder. “I can’t believe I came with you listening.”

“Best goddamn phone call of my life.” I slide my hand up, brushing past the soft curve of her breast. Needing to see it bared. “I’m looking forward to listening to it again.”

She rests her head against my shoulder. “Carter,” she whispers. But I don’t know if it’s in approval or admonition, a plea or a question. She’s breathing fast, and my fingers ache to reach for the hem of her shirt.

I reach for the buttons of mine instead. Audrey leans back and watches as I undo one after the other.

“Oh,” she breathes. She reaches out and runs a hand over my chest, through the faint hair there. Down to my stomach, and the muscles tighten instinctively. Pleasure so intense it’s almost pain makes my cock twitch.

Her hand is so close.

“You work out,” she says.

It’s the last thing I expected her to say, and I look down to see her fingers trace the outline of my abs. “Yeah.”

Her hands move, and it’s divine, feeling their warmth over my skin. She tugs at my shirt and I shrug out of the sleeves, tossing it away. Her eyes are wide and a bit glazed and I cup her face, making her look at me.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say. “We could do anything, or nothing at all, and I’d be happy with tonight.”

Her lips curve into a smile. “You’re good.”

“Just being honest.”

But she surprises me, then. Leaning back on the couch and reaching for the hem of her shirt, she drags it up and off. Her skin is so pale it’s almost luminescent in the light. The curve of her waist begs for my hands.

She’s wearing a lacy bra, and Christ, her tits are the perfect size. A pulse of desire sweeps through my body so strong it makes me lightheaded.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

Audrey shakes her hair out and gives me a smile.

I’m on her the next second, and she laughs, falling onto the couch beneath me. I kiss her forever. Time stops, and the movie fades into nothingness in the background.

The scent of her skin is warm woman and faint perfume and something else, something all her, and I drown in it.

I tease the cups of her bra down, revealing sliver after sliver of soft skin. Her nipples are rosy and taut, and for a second I can’t breathe. She’s too beautiful. I close my lips around a pink peak and she sighs in soft contentment. I’m in heaven.

And God, I hope I never have to leave.

I remove her bra entirely and dedicate myself to worship. Her hair tickles my forehead, and her hands move through mine, clutching me close.

Then she does something that short-circuits my brain. Again.

She shifts her hips and opens her thighs to cradle me.

And now the only thing between us, between me being inside of her, is a few layers of fabric. My cock is so hard it’s begging to be released from my tight zipper, though that’s not the only kind of release I need.

I rest my head against her stomach and breathe deeply.

But Audrey isn’t hampered by raging erections, not even mine, and lifts her hips up. Like she’s egging me on.

My fingers dig into her skirt. It’s tight, and it’s in the way, and I meet her eyes. They’re dark blue on mine.

I tug it down to reveal light purple, lace-edged panties with a tiny bow at the front. Fucking hell. She’s trying to kill me before we’ve even started.

She reaches down and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Carter,” she says, and there’s a thread of uncertainty through her voice. I force my heart to still.

“I have an idea,” she says.

His tawny eyes are deeply golden, his hair falling over his forehead from where I’ve run my hands through it. Half lying above me, he seems enormous. All wide shoulders and muscled torso.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Anything.”

My sudden nerve in asking falls flat. It’s a crazy suggestion. Only, something in me is frightened of going first. Of having it be all about me, of taking off my panties, of lying here naked when he’s not.

“Audrey?” he prompts. He so rarely says my name, and there’s soft seriousness in the tone. It reminds me that it’s him, the same man who’d made it a sport to make me laugh, who texted me about how he drank his coffee, who’d picked me up from my dentist’s appointment.

I push myself into sitting. He follows suit, not trying to hide the erection that’s clear through his pants.

“I want to see what you did when we spoke on the phone.”

Carter’s mouth falls open. Then he grins, and it’s filled with so much heat that it sends an aching pang through my stomach. “Not what I expected you to say.”

“Only if you want to, of course.”

“If I want to?” He palms himself through his pants. “Yes. I do.”

I reach for the belt buckle and he lets me, strong hands resting beside mine on his lap. I undo the button of his pants and slide the zipper down. There’s something reassuring about focusing on him and the inescapable evidence of his arousal.

Carter tugs his pants down and pulls himself out. He’s long and hard and thick and dear God I can’t look away. Especially not when his hand closes around the shaft and starts to stroke in slow movements.

I’m mesmerized.

“This is what I was doing,” he says. “When we spoke on the phone.” His voice is hoarse, head leaning back against the couch. His eyes move across my collarbones, my face, my bare breasts. Down to my panties. “Imagining you just like this. How beautiful you’d look beneath your clothes.”

“You’ve thought about that?”

He raises an eyebrow. “About thirty seconds after we met.”

“No. In the bar?”

“Yes,” he says hotly.

My words form and die on my tongue, over and over again, and I can’t look away from his hand gripping himself. The long fingers wrapped around rock-hard flesh.

“Well,” I finally murmur. “I’d better not disappoint.”

Carter’s hand strokes lazily. “That would be impossible.”

But the real impossibility is for me to remain a spectator. I reach out, and his own hand falls to the side, letting me take over. His skin is hot against my hand and moves like silk over the hardness. I echo his previous movements, stroking slowly from base to tip.