Free The Billionaire's Wife (Part One) by Ava Claire

ONE
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    "S trip."
    I met his steely blue gaze instantly. There was lust flickering there, dancing in his eyes. My heart sprang to my throat as I quivered with excitement. The fact that we were on the terrace, mid morning, and had literally just been talking about work barely entered my mind. Jacob Whitmore was a man who got what he wanted.
    And he wanted to see all of me.
    Now.
    It had been a year since he took me into that stairwell; a year since the billionaire Dom had awoken the secret desires inside me.
    The days melted into weeks that poured into months, but I felt the same electric need, turning me inside out.
    One word.
    Strip.
    I rose to my feet, drinking in his handsome, stoic face. He was forged from marble and stone, perfection and power in the flesh.
    He'd uttered a single word and the rest of the world was forgotten.
    I uttered two: "Yes Sir."
    I had no time to run through the kinky possibilities that awaited me. A smile fluttered across my lips as I fingered the silk knot of my robe.
    I had no choice but to obey.
    It was my destiny to be Jacob's.
    It felt like a lifetime since he'd first commanded my body like it was made for him, and him alone. But I still came alive just like it was the first time he had dominated me.
    I was captured by his piercing blue gaze and I shed my robe. He saw it all—the thickness of my thighs and softness in my middle that long hours at Whitmore and Creighton and a fondness for white chocolate mochas had spawned. Yet he still looked at me like I was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. He looked at me like I was his fairytale ending.
    His eyebrow arched, and the longing in his eyes became lethal. Those delicious lips of his became a tight line of impatience.
    Geez. We were out on the balcony at 11am on a bright Saturday morning. I was his, in body, heart, and name—but I still felt those invisible eyes burning as hot as the sun.
    After all this time he still made me feel weak in the knees and like a hot mess. There were moments that I still felt like I was tripping in my heels in that lobby. Completely out of my league in the presence of the hottest man alive.
    But I kept that to myself. He had only asked one thing of me. To strip.
    My robe melted to the ground and my body unfolded for him effortlessly. I stood taller, my neck a quivering, bare line that longed for his lips. I breathed in through my nose and out my trembling lips, but my chest still rose and fell with every gasping breath.
    My breasts were swollen, nipples hardened and aching like his fingers were pinching them tight. I was silk between my thighs, my core throbbing in time with my racing heartbeat. My legs tingled as he beckoned me to come closer.
    He dropped his cell unceremoniously on the table beside him and retrieved a slender white box I hadn't even noticed. My eyes dropped to the sharp lines of it, its rectangular shape holding something that made one side of his mouth lift, a devastating smirk teasing the fire inside me.
    He slowly lifted the lid. I could almost feel his fingertips digging into me, his lips racing toward my wetness, the bite of his teeth as he—
    "Oh my," I whispered, taking in the neatly folded black strips inside. There were four of them, and one smaller bundle. They looked so soft, so delicate in his powerful hands. He unfurled the smallest bundle in a single movement. For a brief moment, heat rushed my cheeks and I thought it was one of the g-strings he loved on me, even though I was still a little self conscious about my curves. It wasn't a g-string, but the warmth sizzled a red path across my face nonetheless.
    It was a blindfold.
    He was on his feet in a single, fluid movement and an involuntary moan rose in my throat. Looking at Jacob was a sensual journey. From the cropped, ebony hair that intensified the sharp angles of his handsome face, to the sky blue eyes that drank me in like I was the best kind of sin. The best kind of delicious. And his lips; he'd only spoken one word, and