The Billionaire's Daddy Test

“Mia,” he said. Turning to her, the back side of his hand brushed a few strands of hair off her face. Her eyes lifted, jade pools glowing up at him. They both dropped the knife, and he entwined their fingers, tugging her closer until her breasts crushed against his chest. “Mia,” he said again, brushing his mouth to her hair, her forehead and then down to her mouth. His lips trembled there, waiting for invitation.

“Kiss me, Adam,” she whispered.

His mouth claimed hers then, tenderly, a testing and tasting of lips. Oh God, she was soft and supple and so damn tempting. He was holding back, not to frighten her, holding back to give her time to get used to him. Every nerve in his body tingled.

She touched his face, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw. A sound emerged from his throat, raw and guttural, and as her willing lips opened, he drove his tongue into her mouth. Her breath was coming fast—he could feel it, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against his chest. His groin tightened, and he fought for control. He had to end the kiss. Had to step away. She turned his nerves into a crazed batch of male hormones. He swept his tongue into her soft hollows one more time, then mastered half a step back, breaking off the connection.

It was too much, too soon and crazy. She brought out his primal instincts. The jackhammering in his chest heated his blood. He held her in his arms, his forehead pressed to hers; then he brushed a kiss there. “Go out with me tomorrow night, Mia,” he whispered. There was raw urgency in his request. Did he sound desperate?

Her expression shifted from glazed-over passion to concentration. Her silence worried the hell out of him. “Okay,” she finally whispered back, her voice breathy and as tortured as his. “I’d better go now, Adam.”

He didn’t want her to leave. He couldn’t get enough of her, but he wasn’t going to press his luck. She wasn’t a one-night-stand type of woman, and he was glad about that. “I’ll see you out.” He took her hand, the strawberry pie forgotten, and walked her to the front door. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gazed into her eyes. “Thanks for the meal.”

“My pleasure.”

“It was delicious.” So was she. “I’ll need your address.”

“Six four, six four Atlantic. It’s easy. Apartment ten, first floor.”

He repeated her address, cementing it into his brain, and then opened the door for her. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

It was only a few steps, but he took her hand again, fitting it to his and she turned her leaf-green eyes his way. He melted a little inside. It would be a long twenty hours. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“That’s perfect.”

Breath released from his lungs. “See you then.”

He bent his head and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Her sweet taste and softness seared him like a sizzling-hot branding iron.

He shut her car door. As she started the engine he gave her a smile, lifting his hand in a wave. Mia wiggled her fingers back and drove down his driveway, turning onto Pacific Coast Highway.