Read Online Shopping for a CEO's Fiancee by Julia Kent - Free Book Online

looks like a pool behind her curling around her, making her look like a Siren from Greek mythology.
    I’ve got a siren going off in my own body all right. In my pants.
    Which are being stripped off me by a woman who is wearing eye jewelry.
    “Whoa, there! That’s my girlfriend’s job!” I choke out.
    “Americans,” she mutters.
    As I bat at her hands and try to maintain some sense of control and dignity, Amanda’s bra comes off. She’s half naked, twenty feet from me, and Lüq is helping her finish.
    The same woman whose worst fear was being naked in public is undressing willingly in front of my spa manager.
    Did we just have an entheogenic latte? Because this cannot be happening.
    Pushing the Blade Runner chick’s hands aside, I march over to Amanda, my pants undone and belt clicking as it hits my fly. My hands are on her shoulders, brushing Lüq’s aside, as I turn my head and look at her.
    She is enchanted by the pool before us, a hot spring designed to look like a rainforest.
    And I am enchanted.
    By her.
    “Get out,” I say through gritted teeth. Lüq leaves instantly, abandoning Amanda to me.
    As it should be.
    “Marie’s not here, Amanda. Let’s go.” My mouth says let’s get out of here , but my hands say breasts .
    Just...breasts.
    Beautiful, slightly orange breasts that are bare in front of me, the hot spring mist wafting into the space between us, which I remove the second my hands find the soft, slight weight of her deliciously bare skin. They rest in my palms, a little larger than the span of my fingers, abundant and ripe.
    Her sigh makes me glad my belt is undone, my zipper lowered, because I have room for the growing need that blooms when she sighs like that.
    “Isn’t it beautiful here?” she asks, looking out at the lagoon-like pool. We’ve designed this part of Litraeon to be an oasis, a hothouse for orchids and stress relief, a place where women can hide from the cares of the world.
    I stare at her chest, the rosy nipples tightening under my touch. “Yes.”
    “I meant the hot spring.”
    “I’ve got something hot that’s about to spring on you.”
    “You make everything so porny.”
    I frown. “Your point is...”
    “This is bliss.”
    I squeeze. “Sure is.”
    “Not my breasts!”
    “I beg to differ.”
    “I mean....this. This place. It’s enchanted and magical. You can float and relax, crawl into a part of yourself where no one needs anything from you.”
    “Like sex.”
    “That’s how sex feels for you?”
    “Yes.”
    She frowns, eyes clouding with confusion as she looks up at me. Both of my hands are planted on her breasts like her nipples are magnets and I am the Iron Giant.
    One part of me certainly is.
    “But during sex, you do want and need something from the other person. Isn’t that the point of sex?”
    “Not the same as being in the world. With sex, you give so much that eventually you get back what you need.”
    “That’s really how you view sex?” She moves closer, my fingertips grazing up. Her skin is wet and yielding, the room’s heat making her glow.
    “With you, I do.”
    She sinks against me, our lips meeting, and I take a step back to catch my balance as she pushes against me, my hard-on pressing against her hip, her bare breasts crushed between my chest and my palms.
    And then we tip.
    That’s not a metaphor for a deep, layered kiss that transports us emotionally.
    We literally tip over, falling into the water half clothed, the wrenching difference between being incredibly aroused by her words and breasts and the sudden onslaught of wet, buoyant water jarring.
    A mouthful enters me and I find my footing, pushing up and spitting at the same time.
    “Oh, no! You swallowed! How awful!”
    Said no guy, ever.
    “Andrew, do you know what’s in this water?”
    I roll my tongue around in my mouth. “Salt water?”
    “Semen!”
    “I haven’t even come yet!”
    “Not your semen!” she shouts, sputtering, wiping her face, displaying those