Dirty Together (The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy #3)(11)

by Meghan March

“Why does that surprise you? It shouldn’t.”

“I just figured that . . .”


“That you watch me but don’t really pay attention. You’ve got more important things to think about.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it, Holly, and I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

“Get what?”

“That you’re the most important thing in my life now.”

The box slips from my nerveless fingers and lands on the floor.

He smiles, but it’s more predatory than anything else. “See? You don’t believe me. But you will.”

My brain is trying to work. Trying—and failing.

Lifting a hand to my chin, Creighton tilts it up before lowering his mouth nearly to my lips. My breasts rise and fall, pressing against his chest, and my heart hammers against my ribs.

“Well, maybe your body believes me. I guess I’ll start there and work my way into convincing the rest of you.”

I expect him to crush his lips to mine, but he doesn’t. He brushes them lightly over my lips, his tongue darting out, teasing, tasting . . . seducing.

My hands find their way to his upper arms and curl into the soft cotton of his shirt, sliding upward and testing the thick muscles of his shoulders. The sweet, soft kiss is driving me out of my ever-loving mind, when all I really want to do is climb the man like a dang coconut tree.

Not that I’ve ever climbed a coconut tree, but those guys on TV make it look so freaking easy and cool, and you get the prize when you get to the top, which in this case, would be my pussy against Crey’s mouth, so that’s pretty much the same thing, right?

My mind spins, my inner thoughts turning into a crazy ramble.

Screw it.

I hop up and wrap my legs around Crey’s hips and practically attack him. I register the slight umph at the impact of my body slamming into his, and my legs attempt to squeeze the life out of him like some kind of anaconda, but I don’t care. I want him. Bad. Right now.

Creighton’s head moves back an inch, but my hands are already tangling in his dark hair and fusing his lips to mine. I’m on the offensive here. I’m the aggressor. And it’s glorious.

Because I know, deep down, I’m only in charge because he lets me. Which gives me a thought. I release his hair and pull my mouth away from his.

“How do you want to convince me? Because right now, I’d like you to convince me against the kitchen table.”

Creighton’s whole chest rumbles with his chuckle. “Jesus, woman. I fucking love you.”

We both freeze, and the words seem to hang in the air between us.

“What did you say?” I whisper.

His jaw tenses, his stare intensifying. “I said I fucking love you.”

It’s not eloquent, it’s not elegant, and it’s definitely not fancy. It’s raw and real and spur of the moment.

“Do you mean it?” I ask quietly.

His dark eyes spear straight to the heart of me, and he lifts a hand to cup my cheek again. “Of course I mean it. I rarely say anything I don’t mean.”

I open my mouth to say something . . . what, I’m not sure. But Creighton’s thumb slides over my lips and he shakes his head.

“No. Don’t say anything. When you tell me how you feel, I don’t want there to be any hesitation, any question. I want the feeling to be burning through you so hot and fierce that you can’t hold it back, and you blurt it out at the most inopportune moment. That’s what I want from you, Holly. Until I can have that, I’ll settle for the rest of you. Because that’s a pretty fucking fabulous deal on my part too.”

I’m pretty sure my insides just melted. Maybe my heart. Most definitely my panties.

I love that he wants the same raw, real, and beautiful declaration from me—and he’s willing to wait for it.

“You’re so getting laid right now.”

His grin dang near stops my heart. “I know.”

He turns and sits me on the kitchen table. Uncurling me from around his body, he scoops up all of the grocery bags, opens the fridge, and shoves them inside.

“Really? They don’t all need to—”

“Do you really care right now?” Crey asks.

I shake my head. “Nope. Not even a little bit.”

He slams the fridge door. “Good.”

Only one step separates us, and I already have my shirt over my head and tossed to the floor by the time he closes that tiny distance.

Eager doesn’t begin to cover how I’m feeling, and by the grin on Crey’s face, he has no problem with my eagerness. Quite the opposite, judging by the bulge in his jeans. His eyes make a valiant attempt to stay on my face, but my heaving lungs have my boobs bouncing in my bra.

“Jesus Christ, Holly. You’re fucking incredible.”

I lean back on the table, my hands sliding across the weathered wood. Crey’s hands find the button of my jeans and unsnap it, tugging the zipper down in one smooth motion before peeling them off my legs.

“Woman, I’m going to fuck you so hard we break this goddamn table.”

“Thank God,” I whisper.

Seeing Holly spread out on the table, eyes shining, tits heaving, and legs spread, almost stops my heart. Every fucking time. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But there’s something about her that grabs hold of me and won’t let go.

I think it might be the universe telling me that I need to appreciate every fucking minute I have with her, because if I don’t, a sorry bastard like me might have her snatched away before I know what happened. I’ve already learned what it’s like to lose her—twice now—and that gut-wrenching emptiness isn’t something I ever want to feel again. My heart is on the line here, which is completely new territory for me.

I drop to my knees between her legs, a hand on each knee. Sliding my palms up her thighs, I say, “It’s been too fucking long since I’ve had my mouth on your cunt.”

Holly nods. “Yes. Yes, it has. I totally agree.”

I’m going to fuck the sass right out of my sassy little wife. Well, maybe only most of it. I happen to like her sass. I reach up and grab the front of her lacy thong and rip it off.


“Unless you’re moaning or saying ‘more’ or ‘harder’ or ‘yes’ or ‘like that’ or ‘Creighton, you’re a fucking pussy-eating god,’ I don’t want to hear it, Holly.”