Page 226 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

Something in her expression breaks open.

“I didn’t think I’d see you either,” she says quietly.

I rise first and offer her my hand. I look at her and feel every year between us pressing into the room.

“I thought whatever happened between us was the one thing in my life I’d never get back,” I say.

“And now you’re sitting across from…”

Her eyes shine in the lantern light.

“Julian…”

“Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t answer. I move closer.

“Because I have spent seven years being angry at you,” I tell her.

“Seven years telling myself you chose to disappear.”

Sophie’s voice drops. “I didn’t.”

“I know that now.”

The words come out rougher than I intend.

“That’s the problem.”

I stand and bring her with me. My hand rises to her face, tracing the curve of her cheek as I stare down at her. She doesn’t step back as I lean forward and kiss her.

Sophie responds instantly, wrapping both arms around my neck and pulling me closer. The kiss deepens with none of the caution we have been forcing between us for days.

My hands move over her waist and hips through her clothes as she presses against me. I catch the hem of her blouse and pull it upward. Several buttons give way in the rush, scattering against the floor.

She looks down briefly. Then back at me. There is no hesitation in her expression. Sophie grabs the front of my shirt and works the buttons loose while I watch her. I help her with the last few, and she pushes the shirt from my shoulders before running her hands over my chest.

I pull her against me again and lift her onto the counter. Her legs wrap around my waist.

We kiss harder now, all restraint replaced by years of anger, memory, and unfinished wanting. My hands move over her body as hers move over mine, neither of us willing to slow down long enough to think about what we are doing.

I trail my mouth along her jaw, down the column of her throat, feeling her pulse hammer beneath my lips. She tips her head back, giving me better access, and I take it, dragging my teeth lightly over the curve of her shoulder before soothing the mark with my tongue. My hand slides beneath the loosened blouse, finding the clasp of her bra through the fabric, and I work it open with one hand while my mouth continues its path lower, tasting the swell of her breast just above the lace.

I push the cup aside and close my mouth around her nipple, and the sound she makes echoes off the empty tables around us. My other hand grips her hip, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter, but the moment I shift my weight to lean her back, the surface beneath her wobbles, narrow and unstable, built for prep work rather than anything like this. She catches herself against my shoulders, and I pull back just far enough to reconsider.

I do not give her time to protest. I lift her clean off the counter, her legs tightening around my waist on instinct, and carry her across the darkened room toward the corner sofa tucked beneath the windows, the one the staff use for breaks, wide enough and low enough for exactly what I have in mind. Her mouth stays on my throat the entire way, teeth grazing lightly against my skin, and by the time I lower her onto the cushions I am already fighting to keep any restraint at all. She pulls me down with her, catching my mouth again, her fingers curling into my hair.

I kiss her deeply, one hand braced beside her head, the other sliding down to the waistband of her pants. The button gives easily, but the fabric clings to her thighs in the cramped space between us, and I have to shift my weight, hooking my fingers into the sides and dragging while she lifts her hips to help. It takes a few attempts, both of us breaking the kiss to laugh under our breath at the awkward tangle of limbs, before the fabric finally slides free and I toss it somewhere behind the sofa without looking.

She is left in black lace, the bra hanging open from where I unclasped it, the panties low on her hips, and the lantern light paints her skin in warm gold. I take a moment just to look at her, chest rising and falling fast beneath me, and the sight alone has heat coiling tight low in my stomach. I drag my palm from her knee up the length of her thigh, watching her breath catch, before hooking my fingers into the lace and pulling it down her legs entirely.

She reaches for me then, but I catch her wrist gently, pressing it back against the cushion, and lower my mouth to her stomach instead, tracing a path downward with slow, open kisses. She arches beneath me, impatient, and I do not make her wait much longer. I settle between her thighs, pushing them wider, and the first stroke of my tongue against her has her fingers tangling into my hair, holding me exactly where she wants me.

I take my time, licking slow, deliberate circles around her clit before dipping lower, tasting her fully, the rain pounding steady against the glass above us. I slide two fingers inside her, curling them until I find the spot that makes her hips buck against my mouth, and build a rhythm there that has her breathing turn ragged fast. She rocks against me, chasing her own release, and I let her, matching her pace until her thighs begin to shake around my head.

Her hand tightens in my hair, guiding without pulling, and every small movement of her hips tells me exactly what she needs next. I switch between slow, broad strokes and tighter pressure against the sensitive bud, reading her body the same way I have always known it, and feel her getting closer with every pass.

She pulls back before I can finish her there, tugging at my shoulders until I understand what she needs, and I shift my position, lying back against the cushions.