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Page 100 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

He comes to me, standing so close that the sides of his bare feet bracket my shoes, and his chest is almost touching mine. He shrugs off his robe and rests his hands over the swell of my butt. His hardness twitches against me.

“Say it,” he whispers, nuzzling my ear.

“Fine, only you. For now. Enjoy your throne while it lasts.”

He chuckles. “While it lasts? Really? Does that mean you’re experimenting with other things? Toys, perhaps? Because I’m happy to help you rediscover your groove, babe. It’s kind of exhausting, to be honest, being the only one who does it for you. At the very least, it’ll stop you from traveling all the way from New York and crashing my house after midnight.”

He makes it sound like I cross half the country to see him; it’s just a forty-minute drive, less on my motorbike.

I put my heel on his bare foot. “You’re dangerously close to becoming lame here, Harvard.”

“Fine.” He steps back, smiling. “As always, baby, you’re welcome to stay. The only thing is, I’m tired tonight.”

“Excuse me?” He’s hard as stone!

He shrugs. “I refuse to provide a round-the-clock stud service where you get your physical and emotional fix, only to run away again Bonnie. You want my cock, and my arms around you, think long and hard about if you want me to be your boyfriend.”

“Geez! First of all, ew. Secondly, blackmail. And thirdly, as if!”

“Have it your way, baby. Pick any room, except the one I’m in. There are all kinds of food in the fridge in case you’re hungry.”

He kisses my temple and then turns back up the stairs, leaving me spluttering angrily once again.

My head is spinning. The man has the worst manners. Did he really just ask me to be his girlfriend before walking away and telling me to stay away from his room, and then suggest I eat alone? And he left me hanging after he came all over me.

My only response is the growling in my stomach.

I am hungry, too, though. I take my heels off my achy feet and wander into the pristine kitchen. I find some cheese and honey crostini in the fridge, which I munch on as I take my time looking through cupboards.

I don’t process why I feel just as comfortable snacking after midnight in Ethan’s kitchen as I would in mine but chalk it up to being too hungry and pissed off with him.

When I’m done, I go straight up into his room, strip to my underwear, and get into his bed. It’s too dark to see much, but the moment my body hits the bed, his arms drag me clear across to his side, wrapping his arm around my midriff and spooning me.

I yelp in surprise. The feeling of his big, hard body all over mine is indescribable.

“I thought I told you to find another room?” he whispers into my ear.

“This is the room I want. You’re welcome to leave, jackass.”

I feel his rumbling laughter everywhere around me. “Brat.”

I smile, enjoying being cocooned and protected, surrounded by his muscles.

“Bonnie?” he rasps.

“Hmm?”

“Tell me what happened in Clonmel.”

It all comes rushing back like a tide. Father’s rejection after ten years of us not seeing one another, my mom’s weakness, being excluded and knowing that had it not been for Twiggy, I may not have attended the funeral. Desecrating my Nan’s memory with that cult gathering. All that darkness that made me feel like an impostor.

Like I didn’t deserve to experience the happiness of my life here in New York, my job, my friends. Ethan.

Not wanting to delve into my past, I simply shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it yet. And I don’t ever want to go back to Ireland.”

He pulls me closer into him, silent for a long time. “Agreed. You won’t go back there. But you should know Bonnie, that you’re safe and you can be yourself with me and rest assured that I want you. Badly. Every single part of you. You’re so smart and talented, your confidence is astounding and your body just… drives me crazy. I’ve never met anyone like you before.

His words make me shiver, and tears spring to my eyes. I can hear the walls crumbling. Who am I kidding? I love this man. I’ve loved him for God knows how long.




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