Free The Billionaire's Bauble by Ann Montclair Page A

like the long tendrils of Sloane’s hair, into his heart, into his mind. His flesh, his blood, his bones seemed unfamiliar to him. The disconnection to himself only intensified the feeling of connection he was experiencing with Sloane.
    “I’m not typically jealous,” Sloane said, and she leaned her ear into his words. “But then I’m not usually replaced with another woman when I leave a date at the table.”
    “So this is a date? Good. I dressed up for you and everything.”
    “I like your jeans and your T-shirt. Casual looks good on you.”
    “It’ll look even better off.”
    Sloane laughed, and the sound was music to his ears. David said, “I want you to spend the night with me.”
    She sighed heavily and bit her lower lip, before stating, “I’m not a one night stand, and I don’t sleep with a man on a first date.” David could hear resolve in her now husky voice.
    “I expected nothing less, even after everything we’ve shared tonight. But certainly, you could stay until morning in the guest room. After all, it’s late, and you could use a good night’s sleep. I promise to keep my distance, no matter how much I want to be with you.”
    He pulled her chin around and kissed her lips softly. Sloane wrapped her hands around his head, laced her fingers into his hair and opened her mouth to deepen their kiss. Her tongue tortured his mouth, and a moan escaped her throat and became his own. David’s tongue responded avidly, and groaning, he allowed his hands to caress her strong back, her shoulders, the curve of her generous hips.
    Sloane broke away from his kiss and stared into his eyes. The brilliant emerald orbs revealed a growing desire, a dense need. Every ounce of his body throbbed for Sloane.
    “Take me to bed, David.”
    Sloane leaned heavily against his chest, and David held her there, breathing in and out quickly, unsure if she meant her own bed or his.
    He said, “Let’s go upstairs.”
    She nodded, and David took her hand in his and led her toward the terrace doorway, leading her toward the giant staircase that led to the second floor. Her hand felt like a delicate butterfly, and he didn’t want to let her go, afraid she might fly away from him, that he might lose this intimacy that so surprisingly enveloped him.
    When they got to the top of the stairs, he made a rash decision.
    “Sloane, I want you to stay here, to feel that you have nothing to fear in my home, in my presence. I am going to go to Grant Oil, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
    She looked up at him, regret apparent in her down-turned mouth.
    “If you want me to take you home, I will. I want you to know I‘m hoping you’ll stay. I don’t want you to leave.”
    “I don’t want you to leave either,” she said and her beautiful mouth shook, as if she might cry.
    David understood he could take her to his bed right then, that all her objections could be wiped away by the power of their mutual desire. David knew if he stayed near her one more second he would lose his self-control, would take their longing and dial it to lust. The electricity between them almost overwhelmed him into breaking his resolve. He brought the palm of her hand to his mouth for a moment and then let it drop.
    The landing seemed like a mountain plateau, so wide and empty, and as Sloane walked away from him, to her guest room, David longed to traverse the distance, to claim her as his own, to plant his flag and tell her he would never let her go. Instead he turned on his heel and descended the staircase.
    He grabbed his car keys from the hall table and walked out the front door, just as the clock struck midnight. He thought a drive might ease the tension collecting in his back. He slung himself into his sleek sports car and turned the engine over. It roared to life, and he flipped on his headlights even though it wasn’t truly dark outside despite the late hour. As he swung the car toward the long driveway, his lights illuminated the mansion’s open