Playing with Billionaire's Fire

Chapter 3: Unexpected Guest

The tickling touch of his fingers caressed her back, tracing slow, lazy lines over her skin that made her spine tingle.

The warm press of his lips left wet, open-mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder, causing her daintily painted nails to dug on the mattress.

"You're so quiet," Donovan breathed against her ear before his mouth caught her earlobe in a teasing kiss.

"This is so wrong," she drawled, guilt pounding in her chest even as her body arched into him.

Her eyes slid shut, and in the darkness behind her lids, she pictured Hector’s fury. The thought was a stab of shame. She could never imagine how this could tear apart her name… her family.

Once her father figured this out, he will hate her.

"Stop overthinking," he murmured, a rough demand she was tempted to follow. "If you knew what your husband does behind your back, you’d know damn well you have every right to let me do this."

Donovan couldn’t see the fear in her eyes, but he could feel it by how she's catching her breath, how her muscles built tension beneath his touch.

Brushing his fingers through her long brown hair, he let the silken strands slip through his knuckles, his mouth returning to the same spot of her bare nape.

He kissed her again but slower this time. His tongue flicking against her skin before sealing it with another heated press of his lips.

"I know he's cheating," she spilled. There was no sign of anger in her voice but pure ache. "But I bear a different heart."

"Stop thinking about him. Just feel me," he whispered softly.

The tip of his tongue followed the dip of her spine before he pulled her to lie on her back. His grip was firm and possessive.

A submissive for a night.

He parted her legs, He slowly moved his hands to open her legs, giving him full access to her womanhood that throbbed and craving for more heat.

Celine welcomed his hungered lips as they devoured onto her flesh, devouring her with greed, wet pressure that sent more tingles shooting through her whole system.

So good.

So overwhelming that her toes curled.

Her hand ran through his soft hair, fingers yanking. Her eyes sliding shut against the dizzying pleasure.

Shallow breaths.

Her head tipped back, her lips parting on a silent gasp as her eyes rolled.

Donovan may never say it aloud, yet his desire for her doubled upon tasting her sweetness, after claiming her over and over until her body trembled under his control.

Tonight is something Donovan Fordham never dared to do with anyone at all.

Known to change from one woman to another without a second thought, Donovan had never cuddled… and never allowed anyone past the threshold of his home.

He had rules of his own. Rule number one: never bring a woman into his house. Rule number two: never sleep with them after s*x. Rule number three: one f**k, and it’s done.

He’d just broke every one of them just for a lonely, married woman.

"Staying for another hour won't hurt, right?" Donovan asked, his eyes watchinh her as she slid her dress back on, smoothing the fabric over her curves and fixing her hair.

"I can't stay any longer," she replied. "I'm usually home before eight in the evening."

"Your car won't start," he reminded her. There was this lazy confidence in his voice that was convincing her, but she had to restrain herself.

Pushing the white blanket off his hips, Donovan shamelessly revealed himself, his manhood hanging heavy between his thick, muscled thighs, thick as a rope.

"I'm gonna give you a ride home."

Her eyes widened, panic shook her instantly.

She grabbed his arm, fingers pressing against warm, solid muscle, showing exactly how much she disagreed.

"You can't!" she exclaimed. "If Hector sees me with you... he'll hurt me."

Respecting her words, Donovan gave a slow nod… but didn’t back off. Instead, he leaned in and sealed her lips with an eager kiss.

Her slender, tall body molded perfectly against the wall of his chest, she felt safe being wrapped her in his strong arms.

"Damn, I’m getting used to these lips," he admitted to himself, his breath brushing over her mouth.

As much as Celine wanted to say the same, she swallowed the words. "I must to go."

Reluctantly, Donovan let her go, the loss of contact making his fingers twitch before he grabbed his robe and slipped it on.

"How will I get to you?" he suddenly asked, his own question catching him off guard.

Heading for the door, she glanced over her sharp shoulder. "You shouldn’t."

"How about I give you a butt call?" He joked, but it was half meant.

That earned him a soft chuckle.

Celine shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hector’s got eyes and ears everywhere. He’ll catch us."

"Then let him," Donovan confidently spoke with his familiar cocky smirk. "If he’s got the glare, he can taste my fist."

She didn’t answer, just slipped out with a quiet goodbye.

Her car still refused to start, so she took the risk, she hailed a cab and asked Donovan to handle it later.

But the moment she stepped inside her house, she found Henley waiting. His knowing gaze hit her like a warning shot.

And that could only mean one thing she had every reason to feel nervous.

"Miss," Henley quietly greeted, his tone carrying a hint of urgency. "Mr. Iversen awaits by the living room."

Swallowing almost audibly, she gave a small nod, and felt her throat dry and tight.

"I… might have lied to him that you visited Susan."

Celine’s eyes softened with gratitude for the old butler before stepping into the house, her body dragging an exhausted aura along with her.

"Where were you?" Hector greeted her with a doubt.

She choked for half a second, his lingering stare burning through her.

Forcing her expression into something casual, she met his eyes as if she convinced herself that she can be a good liar.

"I was at Susan’s," she croaked, trying to keep her tone steady and her lips from twitching.

"I never heard of a 'Susan'."

Celine froze, then frowned at her husband. "She’s my cousin," she said quickly. "You’ve met her before—"

"I’m tired." He cut her off, knocking her words aside.

Setting his unfinished scotch down on the table, Hector turned and headed upstairs without looking back.

She followed only to catch a scent in the air. A woman’s perfume clinging to his shirt.

The pain was there, but she swallowed it. She had her own guilt to carry.

Every time she closed her eyes, Donovan’s perfection invaded her thoughts. His hands on her body, his lips kissing her skin, and the way he can make her forget her name.

But one mistake shouldn’t be repeated twice.

Besides, she was sure of one thing. Someone like Donovan wouldn’t waste his freedom for someone like her. An unfaithful, married woman. No man in his right mind would drag that kind of chaos into his life.

He was a free man. And she… wasn’t.

Another morning came... another empty bed, that never felt smaller, greeting her.

The sheets were still cool where he should’ve been. The curtains stayed drawn, shutting out the sunlight, and there was no trace of Hector anywhere, not even the scent of his cologne.

"Miss," Henley greeted from the living room, his voice was always warm but formal.

He was standing beside a small table, arranging fresh flowers into a vase which was a task that clearly wasn’t part of his duties, yet he did it with care.

"Henley," she greeted back, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, only for it to slip free and fall softly against her cheek again. "Thank you for what you did last night."

A small but sincere smile touched his lips. "You were just an innocent infant when I first met you, miss. A lovely young Celine. I have every reason to believe in doing what’s best for you," he uttered gently.

She felt moved at the words.

Celine had indeed grown up with Henley always there and long before her own parents had pushed her into marrying a man she tried loving… but never loved her back.

"And, miss," Henley added, his tone shifted a bit, "you had one missed phone call."

She paused mid-step.

No one ever called the house phone for her. In fact, there had never been a single call that belonged solely to her.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"'He' is currently in the garden," Henley replied, already moving to guide her.

"You let someone in?" She arched a brow.

"Mr. Iversen took a flight three hours ago for England. He’ll be gone for three days," Henley informed her. "Jimmy and I will stay to keep you company and tend to the house."

"And the others?"

"Well," Henley began dryly, "according to Mr. Iversen—less hired people means fewer paychecks to release."

Celine shook her head.

Hector’s stinginess with his money sometimes reached new, ridiculous levels.

They reached the wide archway leading into the garden maze, where the scent of freshly cut grass gave a piece of paradise trapped in hell.

Henley stopped, motioning with a small sweep of his rough hand.

"Your visitor awaits at the heart of the garden, miss."

She thanked him. Her curiosity was already making her dizzy.

Offering her a wrinkled smile from his weathered face, Henley gave a slow nod. "It’s the least I could do to make you feel better," he said softly before turning and leaving her there.

Confusion ate her.

What exactly did Henley mean by that?

Her question was answered the moment she spotted a man standing in front of the row of trimmed bushes. His broad back faced her.

From the intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne and the way her pulse spiked just by being in the same air as him, Celine already knew who it is.

"Donovan? Wha—what are you doing here?" she almost shrieked, her head darting side to side.

She knew her husband. Hector’s leash on her was short and tight, even though he had no problem betraying her behind closed doors.

"Are you out of your mind?" Panic surged through her veins. "If my husband finds out—"

Donovan trashed her panic. Instead, he closed the distance in two slow, unhurried steps, gripped her by the waist, and pulled her close.

His mouth crashed onto hers, feverishly tasting her like he was making up for all the hours he hadn’t had her.

Her eyes fluttered shut instantly, her resistance melted in an instant.

Her body responded with his every touch, every stroke of his mouth, and it was so wrong that it felt so good.

"You should’ve stayed with me last night," Donovan murmured against her lips after a lingering, torrid kiss.

"You know I can’t," she breathed, still catching her air. "And I’m not pursuing this. You should go."

"Out of this hellish house or out of your life?"

"My life," she answered, unsure of her own voice.

Donovan’s eyes narrowed, then his grin spread across his lips. "After that hot night we shared? I don’t think so," he refused. "I’ve already claimed you… and I liked it."

His hold on her tightened, possessive, making her breath hitch.

"I don’t care whether your husband finds out about us or not," he uttered. "And I’d love to see the look on his face once he figures out I’m f*****g his wife right."