Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Abigail

D rawing in a breath, I curl my toes and cautiously peek into the hallway. The suite is quiet, so we’re likely alone. With my heart racing, I step out into the dimly lit corridor. If I wait to get my nerves under control, I’ll stay here forever.

I tiptoe down the corridor, my bare feet sinking into the thick carpet, muffling my steps. Coming up on Miss Opal’s door, I pause, straining to hear any sign she might still be awake. The faint sound of a soft snoring drifts through the door, and I relax slightly.

I continue, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. She’d be horrified to know she was snoring, her delicate sensibilities offended by her body betraying her with such an unladylike sound.

Reaching the kitchenette, I hesitate, resting my hand on the cool marble countertop. Once I go into the hall, there’s no turning back. A shiver runs down my spine, a mixture of fear and exhilaration I can’t explain.

I know he’s not here, but the memory of his strong hands, his fingers stroking me intimately, sends a rush of heat coursing through me. I can almost feel his touch, the way he set my nerve endings on fire with the intimate caress.

Shaking off the distracting flashback, I tighten the ends of the belt on my robe. This time, it’s a single loop instead of a double knot, so I don’t have to fuss with it when I go to change.

Gathering my courage, I step forward, turning the corner as my heartbeat echoes in my temples.

The hallway’s dark, the rich scent of wood surrounding me again. This side of the suite feels utterly masculine. Is it because Barron sleeps here? Is it because of what happened in the last bedroom earlier today? In my mind, both will be tied together for eternity.

Glancing over my shoulder, I bite my lip and rethink this plan. Though the hall’s empty, maybe I should have turned on the light in the kitchen. Even the spillover would be better than nothing. But I have no idea where to find the switch.

The distinct click of a door handle breaks the silence. I stop in my tracks, my heart jumping into my throat. I turn around so fast I may end up with whiplash.

Barron’s standing in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space, a hand on the knob. His bare chest is a wall of muscles, the smooth expanse interrupted by dark ink stretching out to decorate his shoulder.

The sight of him, his hair tousled, a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist, ignites a fire inside me. My gaze travels lower, taking in how the towel is pulled tight over the bulge at his crotch, the fabric straining against his obvious arousal.

Was it only a few hours ago I was naked beside him, that thick member pressing against the curve of my spine? The memory sends a fresh wave of moisture trickling from deep within me.

Barron shifts his weight, releasing the door as he steps forward. The movement draws my attention to his face, to the hard set of his lips, then the furrow of his brow.

My heart hammers against my rib cage.

He takes another step, no less menacing, his bare feet silent on the carpet.

I should backpedal and go to my room. Why did I leave? I should lock the door and stay there for the remainder of the trip.

I can’t move. I’m frozen in place as he comes closer, a predator closing in on his prey.

I should tell him I’m merely passing through. That I want to see if the other clothes are still in that bedroom.

No, I should probably come up with an excuse that doesn’t include me being all but naked.

Would he even care? Would he want me to explain why I’m here, at this hour, wearing little more than a robe?

He’s an arm’s length away now. Close enough the heat of his body is washing over me. The intensity in his eyes keeps me from taking a step.

I part my lips to speak, to say anything and not just stand here, my mouth watering at the view. I know words…but I can’t think of a single one as he cups my face. My breath catches in my throat, snatching every thought from my mind.

His head lowers toward me. I can barely breathe as his hand threads into my hair, holding me in place. His lips take mine in a hard, punishing kiss. It feels like the whole weight of him is coming down on me. Hate, frustration, anger…all of it poured into this unexpected, demanding kiss.

I should be terrified, pushing him away and running for the safety of my room.

But I don’t.

And I’m not.

The tingling starts alongside my temples. It’s slight, at first, but all the more fascinating as it whispers down my neck, flowing across my body. It’s an odd sensation, with my brain trying to send a message the rest of me chooses to ignore.

The kiss softens, the pressure turning more pleasurable as his tongue delves into my mouth.

The faint buzz is growing stronger with each passing second. He’s holding back. I sense a flash of wildness lurking beneath the surface, something I’ve never experienced. Something I want more of, despite the warning bells going off in my head.

My hand is clutching at his elbow, grazing his biceps. I intended to stop him, to put an end to this madness. Instead, I find myself spreading my fingers, discovering the steel bunched under his skin, needing to touch more of him.

He slides his hand down, following the shape of my neck until it’s molded right under my chin. Tilting my head, he gives himself better access.

I’m on tiptoe, adjusting to his height as much as I can. Opening my lips, I offer him more. He responds with a rumble deep in his throat, a sound of pure male satisfaction that sends a shiver down my body.

I clench my thighs together, trying to keep the pulse beating between them from getting out of control. The pressure at my waist releases. A wave of cool air sweeps over my chest as his palm sears a path along my hip, his fingers curling into my skin, pulling me close.

The towel presses into me, the warmth of the terry cloth seeping through the thin material. He leans in, throwing me off-balance until the wall comes in to support me.

His teeth close around my bottom lip, nipping at the sensitive flesh while he adjusts. The towel slips past my knee, then he returns, his shaft pressing into my belly. The length alone should be enough to make me wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.

He pushes the robe off my shoulders, all but baring me in front of him. His hands cover my body, kneading my breasts, cupping my ass, reminding me of what happened on that couch. How wet he made me. How hot. How hard he made me come just using his fingers.

I can hardly breathe. My nipples are buzzing with awareness, the sensitive buds rubbing against his chest as he crushes me against him. There’s practically nothing between us, and I’m intoxicated by the assault on my senses.

His mouth is at my neck, lips trailing hot kisses along the column of my throat. His teeth scrape against my skin as he makes his way to my shoulder. He slides his hands down to my thighs, lifting me off the floor. I instinctively wrap my legs around him.

He wrenches the thin cotton, baring my breast. His mouth closes on my nipple, the hot, wet suction drawing a blot of pure pleasure straight from my core. I arch into him, my fingers tangling into his damp hair, silently begging for more.

Anticipation rushes through me, leaving me trembling with need as he holds me steady. He’s going to touch me again, where I’m aching for him, needing him to fill me. His fingers move through my folds, my body shuddering from the experience.

Even through the fog of lust, I know it’s his cock pressing into me. The tiny sliver of conscious thought that’s still hanging on pushes for me to put a stop to this before it goes too far.

My lips part, ready to speak up, but the words don’t come out. Instead, my hips shift as I take him deep within me in one hard thrust.

Pain shoots through me, sharp and intense. My head jerks back against the wall, my nails digging into his shoulders. I bite down on my lip, trying my best to smother the scream bubbling up my throat as my pussy stretches to accommodate his size.

Barron’s taken my virginity. He’s pushing deeper, intent on driving that thick shaft into my pussy until he’s filling me completely. He returns for my lip, running his tongue over the part where I’ve set my teeth. He kisses the spot softly before capturing my mouth again in a searing kiss.

My body relaxes, adjusting to the feel of him. He slides in deeper, an unmistakable hum of satisfaction emanating from him as he bottoms out. His fingers tense and release my thighs, keeping me pinned in place, at his mercy.

The sharp pain subsides, giving way to pleasure. His hips are shifting, as if he’s testing every angle while buried inside me.

He tightens his hold on me, pulling out slowly then sinking in. A gasp escapes me as he continues the shallow strokes, capturing my senses. The head of his shaft is stretching me as he fills me, sending sparks of pleasure through my senses every time.

My breath mingles with his as he adjusts, firmly placing my waist against the wall. The new angle creates a shower of sensations, his cock hitting a sensitive spot deep inside. I dig my heels into the back of his legs, my toes curling with the effort.

His strokes turn to longer, more determined thrusts, each one pushing me higher. I cling to him as he drives into me over and over. Pleasure builds, coiling tighter in my belly until the pressure gives way, shattering me from within.

A cry explodes out of me with the force of my orgasm, leaving me limp and lightheaded.