Found (Not Quite a Billionaire Book 3) by Rosalind James

of it glistening with water? It was pretty special. In fact, there was a group of older ladies doing some kind of water aerobics in the next lane who I could swear weren’t exercising nearly as much as they ought to have been.
    I’d ignored him then, too. I’d been sassy, and he’d loved it. I’d left him wanting more. He might act like he had all the power, but we both knew it wasn’t true.
    Now, with Karen gone, I sat back down in front of my computer, but he slid it out from under my hands, closed it, and said, “Oh, no.”
    “Excuse me?” I tossed my head and frowned at him. “Do you get to say that?’
    “Yeh. I do.” He closed his own, then, and set them both on a low table near the front door. “How hungry are you? Need me to fix you a snack?”
    “Um . . .” I did a little more nibbling on my bottom lip, because he liked to watch it. “Not too bad. I’m good for another hour. Are we going out?”
    “Now, Hope,” he said, coming toward me, picking me bodily up out of my chair and setting me on my feet. “You know I’m making you snapper tonight. But not yet. Seems I’ve got some feet to hold to the fire first.”
    I expected him to take me into the bedroom, but he didn’t. He flipped a switch at the wall so the only illumination came from a table lamp, pulled blinds closed all around the room, then picked up his phone and pushed buttons until the room was filled with music. Low and dark, soft and sweet, but with an urgent, sensual edge. A male voice, singing about desire and longing and getting what you needed most from a woman.
    “That’s better,” Hemi said. “You’ve been teasing me all afternoon. Time for me to tease you.”

    Hemi

    When Hope had disappeared into the bedroom after our outing with a saucy glance back at me, I’d had all I could do not to follow her in there.
    Karen had still been with us, though, so I couldn’t. The two hours that passed until she left were some of the longest I’d ever spent. Especially with all Hope’s little sighs, the wriggles and readjustments, her index finger tracing her lower lip as she stared at her screen in a fascination I’d known she was pretending.
    Now, Karen was gone, the music and the lights were both low, and Hope was on the couch, her hair tumbled around her shoulders, one edge of that stretchy shirt slipping over to one side, showing a thin pink ribbon of bra strap. All she had to do was lie back and look at me with those eyes, her pretty mouth a little parted, and I was halfway gone.
    “Hope,” I said, and this time, it was my finger tracing her lips, forcing her mouth to open more for me, “do you want me to take off your clothes?”
    Her eyes widened even more, and I could swear she was breathing harder already. “Yes.”
    I smiled and felt the dark satisfaction of it all the way down my body. “But they’re so pretty, and you wore them just for me. So I think I’m going to have to explore a little first. Besides—I need to kiss you, and you need to be kissed.”
    I had weeks to make up for, so I took my time. I started out by sucking that passionate, plump lower lip into my mouth as I stroked my thumb down the side of her neck, trailed the backs of my fingers over her bare shoulder, and shoved her shirt a little farther to one side. I traced the pretty pink strap of her bra down, then followed the low V-neck around and down, touching the delicate skin between her breasts with a thumbnail, letting it rasp down into my favorite valley as I took her gasp into my mouth. I did all of that, until I needed more, until I was laying her back against the cushions and getting my arm around her, my hand holding the back of her neck firmly enough that she’d know she was mine.
    I was going to be careful, but I was going to be possessive. She might not like that in all aspects of our life together, but she liked it here, and she needed it. And so did I.
    I was right, because just like that, she was shuddering and saying,