Page 5 of The Billionaire's Secret Heart

Before I could start stressing about what Stuart might say to my advisor, Holden asked, "What's she advising you in?"

"I'm a grad student," I explained, "at Tech." I gave him the short version of what I was studying. It was pretty specialized, and most people were good with me leaving out the details. I can't remember how much I told him. His fingers started trailing across my breasts, drawing designs on my skin with water and suds until I forgot I'd been talking at all.

He turned me over, shifting my body until I was straddling him, my face tucked into his neck. I loved his body, the size of him, the way I fit against him. I wasn't a small girl, and Holden didn't seem huge, but he was big enough to make me feel delicate, and that was a feat.

He must have put a condom by the side of the tub, because he was suited up and sliding inside me a moment later. I ground down on him, taking every inch, rocking and sliding as his strong hands gripped my ass. When the orgasm started to rise, I sank my teeth into his shoulder to hold back my scream.

"God, baby. Yes. Fuck my cock, Josephine. Fuck me hard."

I did as I was told, losing control, water splashing to the floor as I chased my orgasm. My pussy clamped down hard, my release milking Holden dry.

I don't remember how we got from the tub to his bed. Somewhere along the way, he dried me off and tucked me between sheets so smooth, I thought they couldn't possibly be cotton. I passed out with my head on his chest, his arm holding me close.

I only woke once, in the early morning, to find myself flat on my back, my legs spread with Holden between them. As if we'd been fucking for years instead of hours, I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his hips, my mouth meeting his in a soft, slow kiss. That time, he took me gently, taking his time, his hands stroking me everywhere. I fell back asleep after we came, curled into him, every breath drawing in his woodsy, male scent.

I woketo blinding sunlight in my half-open eyes. Squinting, I rolled over, trying to figure out where I was. Not my bedroom. I had a tiny window that faced away from the sunrise—one of my favorite things about my apartment. Blinking my stinging eyes, I sat up, feeling my stomach roll. The wave of nausea brought everything back.

Stuart. The awful date. Meeting Holden. Going home with Holden. Oh my God, had I seriously gone home with a strange guy and slept with him? Three times? I didn't know whether to be ashamed or proud of myself. I'd never done anything like this in my entire life. I jumped out of the bed like a scalded cat and retreated to the other side of the room, staring at the body between the smooth, heavy sheets in a combination of fascination and horror.

In sleep, Holden looked even hotter than my blurry brain remembered. He lay on his stomach, arms and legs splayed, like a child. His body belonged to a man—honey gold skin stretched over defined shoulders and a well-muscled back. His feet stuck out beneath the sheets at the end of the bed, and even his toes were hot—as tan as the rest of his skin, with little golden hairs. He looked perfect.

Had I really slept with that man? I remembered the way he'd laid me out on the kitchen counter and fucked me until I'd come twice. The stretch of his cock pressing into my body was burned into my brain. I hadn't just slept with him. I'd fucked him three times, begging for it, screaming when I came. My cheeks burned at the memory.

What was I doing? Why was I still there? This was a one-night stand. I wasn't supposed to stay. I was supposed to sneak out and never see him again. At that thought, my stomach clenched and I felt like throwing up. But that was just the hangover, right? I didn't even know the guy. Other than his first name, I knew nothing about him. Well, his first name and that he was fabulous in bed. And sweet, I thought, remembering the way he'd held me in the tub and as we'd slept.

I shouldn't leave. It was rude to sneak out. Maybe he wanted me to stay. I was wavering until he shifted in the bed and rolled over. At the thought that he was waking up, that he might be about to open those dark eyes and look at me with disgust or disinterest, I crept out of the room as fast as I could. The night before had been amazing. Mind blowing. I couldn't stand the thought that he might look at me with regret . . . or worse, disappointment.

Moving as quickly as I could, I made my way back to the kitchen, where I discovered that Holden hadn't fucked me on the counter. It had been a huge, white, marble-topped island, and my dress was still puddled in the center, beside a wooden bowl of fresh fruit.

Still life with abandoned dress.

I shuddered and grabbed it, yanking it over my head as soon as I had my bra snapped. At least I'd dropped all my clothes in the same place. Slipping my sore feet into Emily's torture chamber shoes, I located my purse on its side, half the contents spilled out onto the floor. Hastily, I shoved everything back in and snuck out the door, praying the elevator didn't need a handprint to let me out. It didn't.

I slung my purse over my shoulder and walked into the lobby, my head held high, shoulders back. This was my very first walk of shame, but I wasn't going to actuallybeashamed.

I wasn't.

Okay, so I'd slept with a guy I didn't know. Not my best move. But there was nothing wrong with it. People did it all the time. It was over, and no one had to know.

I headed out of the building, ignoring the enticing scent of coffee filling the first level. I didn't dare linger at the scene of the crime. Not that I thought Holden was coming after me. When he woke up, he'd probably be relieved I was gone.

CHAPTER FOUR

HOLDEN

Irolled over and stretched my arm across the bed, reaching for something. When my fingers encountered only cool, smooth sheets, my eyes opened, and I stared at the ceiling, waiting for my brain to come back online.

What had I been reaching for? Rolling over, I caught sight of the indented pillow, smelled sex in my bed, and remembered. Josephine. I was reaching for Josephine.

I had no idea what time it was. My phone hadn't made it to the nightstand, and I didn't have a clock in the bedroom.

I didn't have to check the time to know she was gone. The apartment felt too empty. Fuck.

Fuck.

I rarely brought women back to my place. Tate, my cousin who owned the other apartment on this floor, brought women home all the time. It wasn't the weekend if I didn't run into one of his giggling, half-drunk party girls stumbling to his door.

Personally, I didn't like dealing with the morning after shit. When women got a good look at where I lived, they usually started angling to stay—offering to make me breakfast or fuck me all weekend. To be fair, it wasn't just the apartment. Most of them already knew who I was. No Winters can keep a low profile in this town. My family has been making the news since well before I was born. Nothing gets attention like a ton of money wrapped up in scandal.