Page 40 of Billionaire's Coastal Haven

Her biggest fear wasn’t that we kissed—it was that the people she works for would find out and fire her dad. She lets their opinions about her actions determine where she spends her energy, and that’s not fair. To her or to me.

Why don’t they see what an asset she is and how this town benefits from her leadership? Kissing me hasn’t changed that.

What can I do to make her see I want…but what do I want?

I don’t even know. Where do I hope this leads?

Zoe’s the kind of woman who gets under your skin. You can’t date her for a few months and then move on.

But I’m not the kind of guy who stays.

That’s not fair to her either.

I run my hand around the back of my neck. Her hands are tucked adorably under her chin. Her features are peaceful and calm, the opposite of her scrunched forehead and pursed lips as she fell asleep.

I want that peace.

I want her passion.

I want to absorb them through my skin, so they are as innate a part of who I am as they are for her.

Can peace and passion be taught?

Spending more time with her is the only way I can think of to learn to embody her intensity.

Will she let me?

How do I convince her I don’t want to use or manipulate her?

Maybe if I convince her we should be friends, she’ll let her guard down enough to show me where her passion comes from.

Damn, but I want to kiss her again. Her pillow-soft lips. The little sighs deep in her chest that rumbled into mine.

I want that too.

Like drinking from her passion’s fire hydrant, I want to drown in it.

But I can’t.

I need to keep my wits about me.

The sun filters through the windows as dawn breaks, and Zoe stretches her arms above her head, tugging my shirt up and gifting me a sweet glance of the soft skin across her stomach.

My lips want to explore that skin, but I won’t let myself.

Peace of mind is more important than the lust coursing through my veins. My nails dig into my palms as a reminder to keep myself in check.

She languidly continues her stretch, then she freezes. Bolting upright, her gaze searches the room, landing on me.

I lift my hands to calm her. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

I tap the face of my smart watch. “Battery died, but my guess would be around 7:00 a.m.”

“We need to go.” She scrambles to her feet and drags the blankets into her arms.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire?”