Millionaire Playboys. Emilie Rose

from her handiwork, and he looked every inch the rebel with the stubble on his jaw and upper lip and an untamed look in his eyes.

      Her gaze skated over his broad chest to the erection jutting from a bed of dense dark curls. Thick. Hard. Hers. At least for now. Her mouth dried and her pulse blipped hummingbird fast.

      Rex wanted her. Her. His desire was there plain to see. No man had ever been so blatantly aroused by just pleasuring her. In fact, few had ever taken the time to make sure she enjoyed the encounter.

      He ripped back the comforter and held out his hand. She laid hers in his big palm and he drew her closer. The impact of his hot arousal against her belly sent her breath shuddering from her lungs and then his mouth took hers in a deep, soul-robbing kiss. The condoms fell from her fingers as she gave in to her need to stroke his supple skin, test his thick muscles and cup the derriere she’d shamelessly ogled when no one was looking.

      He tipped her toward the mattress. The cool glide of his hair over her shoulder and then her breast had to be the most sensual thing Juliana had ever experienced. No wonder so many men liked long hair. Rex’s dragged like cool satin over her heated skin as he feasted on her breasts, her belly. His tongue dipped into her navel and then swirled a path from hip bone to hip bone. It was simultaneously too much and not enough.

      When he finally parted her curls and found her with his mouth, she had to shove her fist against her mouth to quiet her cries. She’d wanted to experience passion, and boy, was she. All too quickly, release undulated through her. Never had she felt anything this intense and at the same time frightening. Frightening because she was out of control, a slave to her desires, and because she had a feeling Rex Tanner was more man that she—or any woman for that matter—could handle. He’d be a rocket ride to heartbreak for any woman foolish enough to expect more than short-term thrills.

      Good thing that temporary was all she wanted.

      Wasn’t it?

      Doubts nipped at her conscience. Could she be happy with nice after this?

      The self-indulgent beast rode Rex’s back, clawing for sexual satisfaction the way it used to after a concert—only worse. The fangs of need sank deeper into his flesh than ever before.

      Give, you selfish SOB. For once in your life give. Don’t take.

      He fought to leash his raging hunger and let Juliana drag him up her body one excruciating inch at a time, and then he grabbed the discarded box of condoms and shoved it in her hand. His entire body quaked with the effort it took to restrain himself from taking her—using her—to slake his hunger.

      “You want control? Take it.” His voice came out raspy and rough, as if he’d played in too many gigs in smoke-filled bars.

      Surprise flashed in Juliana’s passion-glazed eyes. Her breasts jiggled as her breath shuddered in and then out again, fueling his desire. He cradled her, marveling in the softness of the pale skin filling his palms and the sexy little sounds she made when he rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Those whimpers almost did him in.

      Her hands trembled as she carefully slid a fingernail beneath the flap, opened the box and selected a condom. He’d given her the task because he wanted her so badly he was beyond finesse. He’d have shredded the damned box like an overly enthusiastic teen. Juliana gently tore the plastic wrapper with her fingers. He’d have ripped it open with his teeth. And then she slowly and carefully withdrew the protection.

      He’d bet she was the kind who never tore wrapping paper. If he weren’t about to burst out of his skin, he might have appreciated her diligence and savored the anticipation of having her hands on him, but right now he was too busy losing his mind to appreciate anything. Fisting his hands, he braced himself, but nothing could prepare him for her light, delicate touch as she smoothed the latex over him.

      He ground his teeth and concentrated on a complicated riff. The soft, downward sweep of her fingers came close to stopping his heart and melting his brain, and then her fingers tightened around him. She stroked him from base to tip once, twice, a third time. Too good. Too intense. But he’d promised her control and, dammit, he’d let her have it if it killed him. Which it just might. His breath whistled in through gritted teeth, and he shook with the effort to hold on, but he couldn’t stop the groan boiling from his chest.

      The glow of feminine power radiated from her blue eyes, darkened her cheekbones and curved her damp red lips. She knelt over him, straddling his thighs, and he prayed she’d put him out of his misery. The faster the better.

      She reached over his shoulder for her belt and his pulse stuttered. Bondage? The banker didn’t seem the type. Not that he couldn’t learn to like sex games if this affair continued. Which it shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

      Wouldn’t.

      He couldn’t bring her down to his sewer-rat level.

      But instead of winding the belt around his wrists, she trailed the knotted ends across his chest and then over his belly like a dozen caressing fingers. The cool beads swept over his skin, electrifying him like a shorted-out microphone. She snaked the belt around his erection and slowly slithered it free. Holy spit. She would kill him. He bowed off the bed, pitching her forward until her soft breasts seared his chest. Fisting his hand in her hair, he drew her mouth to his and kissed her until his lungs burned.

      “Stop torturing me,” he warned against her mouth.

      He felt her smile against his lips, and then she drew back a few inches and he saw laughter in her eyes. He teetered closer to the edge of reason. “Am I torturing you?”

      “You know it.” He grasped her hips and dragged her forward until her hot, wet body covered his, urging her to take him where he needed to be—inside. But she didn’t. She rocked, sliding slick and hot along his length and ripping a hoarse groan straight from his gut. He fisted his hands in the sheet. Wild and impatient, the selfish demon inside him roared. He could give into the clawing hunger and become the self-absorbed SOB who used women or fight it and let Juliana have her way.

      He’d fight. But damn, it was hard.

      And then he decided two could play this seductive tormenting game. He raked his palms up Juliana’s thighs, found her moisture with his fingers and plied her sensitive flesh until her back arched and she writhed with pleasure. Her gaze locked with his and his heart slammed against his chest.

      Take her. Take her. Do it. Now.

      She splayed her fingers over his chest and paused with him poised at heaven’s gate. His muscles bunched. He was a split second away from tossing her on her back, ramming home and selfishly taking his pleasure, when Juliana took him with a slow slide deep into the blistering, wet glove of her body.

      His lungs emptied in a rush. Stars flashed behind his eyelids. He forced his eyes open and the pleasure magnified. He’d never seen a more seductive sight than Juliana riding him. With her skin flushed and her swollen lips parted, she gasped for breath and then she opened her eyes and met his gaze with a blaze of white-hot passion. Never mind that every deliberate swivel of her hips destroyed dozens of his brain cells, he liked seeing her this way, liked watching Juliana come unglued.

      He stroked her, pushing her toward another release, and then her breath hitched and she clenched him tight. Rex lost it. He grasped her waist and held her as he thrust deep and hard and fast as one explosion after another detonated in his body, rocking him with pleasure more intense than any he’d ever experienced.

      Juliana collapsed against him and his arms encircled her automatically as if they’d done that before. They hadn’t. He’d never held a woman after he’d used her. But he wanted to hold Juliana, wanted to keep her close.

      Trouble. Damn, he was in trouble.

      He stared at the ceiling in numb silence as Juliana slipped off him and into the crook of his shoulder. His heart slowed, but his muscles didn’t relax. He couldn’t get a word past the anger and self-disgust choking him as Juliana curled her fingers on his chest. Moments later, her body went slack as sleep took her. She wouldn’t rest as easily and she