An artist on her way up...
Artist Sadie MacElroy has landed a sweet gig as the personal assistant to her best friend, Felicia Waters. Despite her scattershot creative nature, she's a whiz at organizing, planning, and ordering people around. But her sweet gig turns sour at a charity art auction she's organized when she bumps into a stage lackey and sends a 17th century Qing Dynasty vase crashing to the ground. Electing to take the fall, Sadie attempts to arrange payment of the vase to its owner, eccentric billionaire and (extremely) amateur artist Malcolm Ward.
A powerful man on his way down...
Malcolm, however, doesn't care about the money or the vase, or much of anything. His whimsical, eccentric side hides a dark pain and a grim future, and only the promise of Sadie gives him hope. Inspired by his "muse," Malcolm decides he only wants her, any way he can have her: in front of his camera, under his brush... or in his bed.
An intimate passion...
Unbeknownst to Sadie, time is running out for Malcolm, and when she discovers his secrets, it's up to her to convince him that life is worth living, painful scars and all.
This bargain priced bundle contains all five installments of the serial novel The Billionaire's Muse: His Acquisition, His Canvas, His Inspiration, His Obsession and His Masterpiece. 91,000 words of romance, drama, and desire in one package.
He bent down, his face drawing closer and closer to mine. Dizziness overwhelmed me, made the world spin and tilt as he came closer. His scent filled my head, and I thrilled at his nearness, every inch of my body awake and alive to his proximity. Then his full, sensuous lips met mine, and I melted, like wax before a flame.
Malcolm Ward could kiss.
He wasn't demanding, not at first. At first he seemed content to gently massage my lips with his, sweet and soft, teasing me down from the height of fear. Slowly the echoes of the past receded, replaced with first a slow smoldering, and then fast burning embers as he continued his slow play of mouth on mouth, lips on lips. His nose brushed against mine, our breath mingling between us. There was nothing outside of our kiss, even as it brought me to the brink of frustration.
Gimme some tongue, damn, I thought.
As though he read my mind Malcolm paused and smiled against my mouth before flickering his tongue over my lips. I opened for him readily, aching from my tongue to my curling toes.
He invaded me gently but inexorably, stroking his tongue over mine in a slow, strong caress that had me reeling, my body listing toward his. I felt the heat coming from him, but we had yet to touch anywhere but our lips, and I longed for more. A moan escaped my chest, and then his hands alighted on my face.
My cheeks burned where his flesh met mine, white hot points of contact that shook me down to my bones, and I reached up, gripping his arms lest I fall. I was swaying, unsteady, and he was a steel pillar, holding me up, keeping me from collapsing completely. Our bodies met, my breasts brushing against his chest, his thighs meeting mine, the bulge of his cock bridging the gap between us, nudging my belly and sending streamers of fire out over my limbs. I wanted to reach down and touch it, take it in my hands, and with any other man I would have.
Malcolm was different. I didn't know how, I just knew he was. I twisted my hips instead, letting my stomach rub over his erection and feeling the contact ripple through him as he shuddered, ever so slightly, like a great wind gusting against an ancient tree, or a skyscraper bowing to a hurricane. The pressure of his hands on my face increased as I circled my hips against him, feeling the delicious bulge grow harder and larger as his arousal caught and fanned into flame, but then, abruptly, he broke away, first planting a kiss to my earlobe, then dragging his open mouth down my throat, over my chest, until he was kneeling before me, his face buried in my stomach...