Shopping for a Billionaire 3 by Julia Kent

away from my face, tucking it behind an ear with such precision as he tongues my breast and makes me stop. Stop t h inking, stop wiggling, stop the world—stop time , because I am everything and nothing in his arms .
    My own body moves in long, even strokes against his, and then without warning he’s above me, out of me, leaving me with a hollow ache that cries out for more . Declan’s arm wraps around my waist and he spins me effortlessly under him, the limo seat so wide we can fit comfortably, our thighs slick with sweat and more, his face filled with passion and a tantalizing seriousness that bring s back a handful of words.
    “You’re beautiful, too,” I whisper, looking up at him as anticipation is poised between us in that timeless moment before we break through the invisible wall. The wall that separates every couple before they knowingly – willfully – breach it to connect two separate beings, making one flesh, one desire, one need.  
    O ne climax. Giving yourself to another person is one thing. Truly letting go as you lose yourself in them is quite another.
    “I didn’t know there were men like you out there,” I add, reaching up to push a lock of hair out of his face. He’s so intense, so purely centered on me, eyes alive and fully in the moment. We’re on a threshold, and I have so much bursting inside me that I want to say.
    “You make me feel like it’s okay to be me, Declan. No one’s ever done that before.” Our breath mingles in the small space between us, my legs tightening around him, my body and heart wanting to be as close as possible. I’d have to crawl inside him to be any closer, and I’m shaking with an all-consuming force that is so much more than anything I’ve felt.
    “I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else, Shannon.”
    I smile wide as he drives home inside me, his face dipped down to kiss me, his mouth fire and ice as he thrusts, my body filled with a kind of madness that makes me seek release at the same time that I can’t help but cling to him.
    His hands rest o n my waist as he tightens, his face hot over mine, our bodies half clothed. This feels so illicit, so naughty, and as the limo comes to a pause at a stop light a massive plume of boldness blooms in me.
    This is who I am. Declan is who I want. His face shifts as he pushes over and over, my legs shaking and my hands seeking whatever skin he has exposed, the connection morphing into something so illicitly primal.  
    And when he lean s down, still in control, his hand between my legs and giving the slightest butterfly touch where I need it most, I utter his name in a fevered moan, my climax hitting without reservation, all restraint gone, my mouth full of whispers and groans, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he tells me to come, to come, to come .
    I do.
    He joins me, torso and chest tense and hands digging into the leather seat on either side of me, my legs wrapped around his waist, his murmurs in my ear as he bites the lobe and shudders like he’s captivated by a series of prayers to a god I can believe in. The air around us is hot and spicy, like woman and man mingling together, the scent of sex and sweat and perfume and cologne burning into my brain.
    This is the scent of mind-blowing sex. Yankee Candle needs to patent it.  
    “ You,” he says with a hiss, pulling out of me and turning around. He ties off the condom and throws it discreetly in a small trash can with a little swish lid that makes me laugh. I don’t know why. The giggles descend on me and I cannot stop.  
    “That’s a first,” he says.
    “Sex in a limo?” I gasp between chuckles.
    H e gets a surprisingly sheepish look on his face. “Uh, no,” he says slowly. But not a pologetically.
    If this awkward turn of conversation is supposed to spoil the mood, it doesn’t. I just laugh even more. Absurdity makes me laugh. Having sex for the first time in a year makes me giggle. Fucking Declan in the back of a limo makes me sputter.
    “