Serving the Billionaire by Bec Linder Page A

back. I squinted in the too-bright light of the bedroom. He was bent over me, a dark shape, and I felt him smoothing my hair off my forehead. I raised my limp arms and clutched at his shoulders.
    “I let go,” I said, the only words I could summon.
    He laughed softly and kissed my face. “That’s right. I didn’t tell you that you could, did I? I’ll have to punish you for that tomorrow.” He spread my thighs apart and slid back into me, holding himself above my body and rolling his hips slowly. “I’m going to come in your wet pussy, Regan. Would you like that?”
    “Yes, yes,” I said, senseless, hungry, and held onto him as his rhythm fell apart. He slammed into me hard, twice, three times, and shuddered against me, panting raggedly, his cock pulsing inside of me as he came.
    I lost track of time after that. I think I dozed off, and when I woke again, briefly, he was cleaning me with a warm cloth; and then he was rolling me onto my side and curling his body around me, turning off the light, and saying, “Sleep now.”
    I slept.

Chapter 7
    I woke from a comfortable dream about swimming pools and opened my eyes. I was in Carter’s bed, the duvet carefully tucked around my shoulders. I turned over, lazily reaching for him, but he wasn’t there. The bed was empty. I was alone.
    I got up and dressed in my clothes from the night before, and then went in the bathroom to make sure I didn’t look too horrifying. My hair was a disaster, but I was able to smooth it down with some water and twist it into a respectable knot. With my coat on, I would look like every professional woman in Manhattan. Nobody would be able to tell that I was doing the walk of shame after the single hottest experience of my life.
    God. The way he’d touched me, the way he’d laughed, low and pleased, when I begged him—
    I closed my eyes. I couldn’t think about it now. I had to go home, and shower, and get ready for work.
    It was hard to believe that in a few hours I’d be back at the club, serving drinks like nothing had happened. My universe had been upended. The world had changed. And there was no evidence of it, aside from the spectacular love-bite blooming in the hollow of my throat.
    I adjusted my collar to hide the bruise. Slather on enough concealer and nobody would notice. Maybe I would wear a turtleneck, just to be safe.
    I took a deep breath. My reflection looked just the way it always did. Nobody would be able to tell that I had been transformed.
    I gathered my coat and purse and left the bedroom. I only vaguely remembered the layout of the apartment from the night before, but the hallway led me directly into the main room of the apartment, a large, open space filled with sunlight.
    And Carter was there, sitting at the table, laptop open, a coffee mug at one elbow. He was already dressed, his suit jacket hanging from the back of his chair. My breath caught. I hadn’t thought—well, I hadn’t let myself think. I didn’t expect him to still be there, because it was better not to expect anything, and then always be pleasantly surprised.
    He looked up as I came into the room. He didn’t smile; his expression didn’t change at all. “Regan,” he said, face smooth as the surface of a pond. “I didn’t think you would be awake so soon.”
    My heart sank. So it was like that. “I should be going,” I said. I wouldn’t linger and embarrass myself.
    “Have a cup of coffee, at least, before you leave,” he said, and my heart rose again, to rest somewhere right beneath my ribs. “It’s cold outside.”
    I hesitated and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only 10. I still had time, but I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to stay and drink coffee with him. It seemed so domestic , and I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. I didn’t want myself to get the wrong idea. We’d had sex, and it had been fantastic, and now we would both go back to our separate lives.
    “Blue Mountain, roasted yesterday and ground half