Page 62 of Billionaire Grump

I’m in Alexander Maddox’s hotel room. In the Hamptons.

My fake date.

Oh my god. We spent most of the night…having hot, crazy sex.

Very unprotected hot, crazy sex.

I’m going to need to think about this, about what I’m going to do. My period is due in a few days. Maybe it’s too late in my cycle. Maybe it takes more than…four times.

Oh shit.

I groan even though I can’t summon even a single iota of regret. Even though I really, really should be able to.

This is bad.

I turn to his side of the bed, gasping at the new aches and pains in my body. I’m very sore. My virginity has been well and truly cashed in. Repeatedly and extremely thoroughly.

God, it was so amazing.

Alexander’s gone. There’s a note on the pillow and a single red rose.

Good morning gorgeous,

You looked so peaceful I couldn’t bear to wake you. I’ve gone fishing with Blake and the others. I’ll be back in a few hours. Call room service when you’re ready and they’ll bring you breakfast. You’ll be hungry. Then I’d like you to sleep some more, or relax by the pool, swim, order more room service and wait for me.

P.S. You’re the most beautiful, sexy, perfect and delectable woman in the world. I’ll spend the entire fishing trip thinking about you and counting the minutes until I can see you again.

A

Wow.

The hot, grumpy billionaire is…sweet. And romantic.

Yesterday, I wouldn’t have believed it. But now I know better. I’m not surprised that Alexander Maddox is as insistent and ruthless in bed as he is out of it. But he’s also a very attentive, tender and dedicated lover. He lavished me with so many orgasms I lost count.

He made sure he got his way, but he felt me so deeply. He made sure my pleasure was the priority, and that my pleasure worked his. He played my body like Yo-Yo Ma plays his freaking cello.

My stomach growls.

He’s right, I am hungry. Starving, in fact. I feel like I’ve run a marathon.

Gingerly, I sit up. I’m sore in places I didn’t even know I had muscles. I climb out of bed, adjusting to my new body. The one that’s been made love to so thoroughly I feel like a completely different person. A freer one. A more powerful one.

The bed looks like a three-day orgy took place in it. There’s a light smear of blood on the sheets.

Yikes.

How many times did he come inside me? Three? Four? Five?

I really can’t believe we got so carried away. I can’t believe I got so carried away and I can’t believe Mr. Control Freak did either. I only just met him, but it seems out of character for him. I mean, who does that?

Who jumps into bed with an almost-stranger and has unprotected sex with him all night long, throwing all caution to the wind just to have simultaneous multiple orgasms for the very first time in her life?

Me, apparently.

That’s not okay. You need to deal with this.

I will. But I carefully slide the a-lot-of-very-real-issues-to-worry-about circular thought process into a file near the back of my brain labeled I Definitely Will Worry About All Of Them, In Excruciating Detail, Maybe Even Later Today, But Not Right This Moment.