Page 62 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

My breath catches.

“Sophie,” he says quietly.

I don’t know whether the way he says my name is a warning or a question. I answer by closing the space between us.

The first kiss is controlled for barely a second. Then his hand slides behind my neck and pulls me closer, and whatever restraint survived the walk back disappears. I grip the front of his jacket as he kisses me again, harder this time, the force of it pushing a breath from my lungs.

I kiss him back with everything I have been pretending not to feel.

His other arm closes around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and my hands move into his hair. The neat sweep of salt and pepper comes loose beneath my fingers as the kiss deepens, rougher and more urgent than anything that has passed between us before.

We break apart only long enough to breathe. Julian’s forehead nearly touches mine. His hand remains at my waist while his eyes search my face.

“Still sure?” he asks.

“Yes.”

The answer barely leaves me before I pull him back toward me. He kisses me again, and this time there is nothing tentative in it. I feel his hands tighten around me before he bends, lifts me easily, and brings me against him.

My arms lock around his shoulders as my legs wrap around his waist. I can feel his hard cock pressing through his pants and the movement draws a startled laugh from me that disappears against his mouth.

Julian carries me the few steps toward the kitchen counter without breaking the kiss, and I hold on to him, fingers sliding through his hair while the room seems to blur around us.

When he sets me on the edge of the counter, he stays between my knees, one hand braced beside me and the other still at my waist.

For one suspended moment, we simply look at each other. Then I pull him back to me.

Chapter Nine

Sophie

His kiss is maddening and furious as he places his hand in between my thighs. He rubs his fingers against my wet folds, and I flinch at the sensation. Then he slides my panties to the side and shoves two fingers inside of me. He only strokes me twice before he pulls his fingers out and places them in his mouth, sucking off my juices in between.

My body vibrates at the sight. Julian then lifts me off the counter and stands me on my feet. His hands grip my waist with force, pulling me flush against his chest as he walks me backwards all the way to the bedroom, his steps steady, his body deliberate. I feel the heat of his breath against my temple until finally the back of my legs press against the plush bedding of the bed behind me.

My chest rises and falls as my hands instinctively clutch his arms, his muscles flexing beneath my touch. His fingers trail down, sliding along the curve of my waist before his hands find the zipper of my dress. The slow, deliberate sound of it sliding down fills the quiet space between us. He peels the fabric from my shoulders, dragging it down my arms, until it pools at my feet in a soft heap.

I stand before him in nothing but my bra and panties, the cool air of the room brushing against my heated skin. His hands roam my body, fingertips tracing the dips and curves as if memorizing every inch of me. My breath shudders when his mouth captures mine in a deep, consuming kiss, our lips molding together, his tongue sweeping inside, commanding, dominant. My fingers thread through his thick hair, tugging, needing more, craving more.

With an urgency that makes my pulse race, I fumble with the buttons of his dress shirt, desperate to feel his skin beneath my hands. One by one, I undo them, my palms sliding over his sculpted abs, feeling the taut ridges of muscle beneath my fingertips.

He groans against my lips, reaching behind me with practiced ease to unhook my bra. The straps slide down my arms, the lace joining my dress on the floor. He leans back, his gaze dark, devouring. His eyes rake over me, lingering on my bare breasts.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need.

Before I can respond, he lifts me effortlessly, hoisting me onto the bed, laying me back against the cool sheets. The contrast of the fabric against my feverish skin sends a shiver through me.

Julian wastes no time. He shrugs off his unbuttoned shirt, letting it drop, his chiseled torso now fully on display. My mouth dries at the sight of him—broad shoulders, taut abs, the sheer strength in every inch of his frame. He looks like a god carved from stone, yet he is all heat, all hunger.

He climbs onto the bed, straddling me, pinning my wrists above my head. His grip is firm, possessive, his weight pressing into me, making it impossible to move—not that I want to.

His mouth descends, trailing along my collarbone, his lips hot, teasing. Then lower. His tongue flicks over my nipple before he takes it into his mouth, sucking, biting just enough to make me arch beneath him. A sharp gasp escapes my lips as he works my sensitive peak, rolling the other between his fingers.

“Julian…” My voice is breathless, needy.

His answer is a deep, satisfied hum as he shifts, his mouth moving lower, kissing a path down my stomach, his lips pressing into my navel, moving lower still. My core clenches in anticipation, knowing exactly where he’s headed.

I feel the press of his nose against the thin material of my panties. His breath fans over the damp fabric, making my thighs tense, my hips lifting involuntarily. He inhales deeply, his hands gripping my hips, holding me in place.