The Billionaire's Good girl. Not.
His eyes lingered on my lips, unblinking, as though the air between us was charged with something dangerous.
My pulse quickened, every nerve tightening under the weight of his stare. His fingers traced my cheek with deceptive gentleness, rough pads leaving sparks across my skin, before sliding down to cup my throat—firm, inescapable, tilting me toward him.
The world fell quiet. My chest rose and fell with his, breaths mingling, his scent wrapping around me—warm spice and something darker, intoxicating. When he finally leaned in, it was slow, achingly slow, his lips hovering just above mine until I swore I could feel the heat radiating from them.