The Boss and Her Billionaire by Michelel de Winton Page A

bottom of the ship, but it seemed only a minute before Dylan had his plastic room card out, ready to open his stateroom door.

    “Wait,” Michaela hissed. “Are you sure he’s out?”

    “I’ll check. Keep walking and meet me back here in two minutes.”

    Doing as he suggested, Michaela walked to the end of the corridor, but she had to pass through the
    heavy blue crew door into the passenger area to get out of sight of anyone who might have remained in Dylan’s room. As she walked, she smiled and nodded to the few guests who lingered around their rooms
    before turning and heading back toward the crew quarters. She almost lost her nerve and continued
    walking, but the door to Dylan’s room was ajar. As she passed, Dylan leaned out, grasped her firmly
    about the waist, and dragged her inside.

    “Oh,” she gasped. Dylan had stripped off his dance clothes and wore only a small white towel wrapped
    around his waist. He’d turned on the shower in the bathroom—tinier even than the one in her
    stateroom—and steam was starting to gather.

    “I need to take a shower,” Dylan said as he pulled her to his chest and kicked the door fully closed. “The show got me all hot. Maybe you could wash my back for me.”

    “I don’t think—” Michaela was stopped by Dylan’s finger over her lips. For a moment, she thought of
    continuing her protest, but the sizzling desire in his eyes stopped her. As he dropped his hand and
    leaned in, she closed her eyes.

    The first kiss was gentle, but it was only a warm-up. The second came strong and hard. Michaela
    thought she had been melted by his previous kisses, but they were nothing compared to these.

    She’d never known such a strong, yearning need, and she couldn’t have stopped herself from kissing
    Dylan if the ship had run aground. He covered her moist lips with his own, dipping his tongue in and out of her mouth, and she felt a soft whimper escape her throat.

    Her skin heated. Her spine arched toward him. His hungry hands moved up her body, firmly outlining
    her , waist, and chest. “If you’re going to tell me we shouldn’t be doing this, that I should stop, tell me now, before it’s too late,” he whispered.

    “Don’t stop.” The words came out hoarse. Michaela dropped her head back, and he followed the
    invitation, his mouth biting at her neck and down, down toward her . With no one to stop them this
    time, he unbuttoned her shirt, opened and peeled it away in one easy movement. She kicked off her
    shoes and gasped when her skirt fell to the ground in a soft slither.

    Standing now only in her white lacy bra and skimpy underwear, she looked him full in the face. Dylan
    paused, easing back to admire her willowy frame. The thin scraps of white lace she wore offered little protection from his hungry eyes. Leaving her no time to hesitate, he pulled her back toward him, his
    hands moving under her to lift her. She wrapped a leg around him. His hardness pushed against her, and as he eased her into the bathroom the towel fell away, leaving him proud and erect.

    “In,” he commanded as he lowered her, then pointed to the shower. She meekly let him push her under
    the water.When the water from the shower hit her body, Dylan groaned. “Not bad, Cruise Director.”

    Michaela looked down to see the curls of her sex and the thrust of her s outlined beneath the
    translucent white lace, but her s were suddenly released as Dylan pulled the cups of the useless wet bra down and greedily sucked at each in turn. “Please,” she whimpered, and he chuckled low in his throat.
    His tongue twisted around her . Oh!

    No. Wait. She needed more control. The hot water, the steam, his wet hair under her fingers—it was too perfect for safety. Too close to the fantasy that had played out in her mind only yesterday. His mouth went back to her s. “Nice?” he said, and she whimpered again. Then his hands were on the thin lace of her panties.

    “No, not yet.” Michaela squirmed