A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 133

Chapter 133

Madison

The red dress felt even more revealing without the coat’s protection, the fabric clinging to every curve of my body.

Alexander stepped back, his eyes darkening as he drank me in. His gaze was almost physical, like fingers tracing every inch of exposed skin. The intensity in his eyes made my nipples harden against the thin fabric of my bra.

“Fuck,” he breathed, circling me slowly. “That dress is criminal on you, Madison. But it would look even better crumpled on the floor.”

I glanced nervously at the water surrounding us. “Someone could see us. There are other boats out here.”

“No one can see shit,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “We’re far enough out, and the lighting up here only illuminates you for me. I made sure of it.”

I watched as he finished his champagne in one long swallow, his throat working in a way that made my mouth dry. Not wanting to be outdone, I tipped back my glass, the expensive bubbles sliding down my throat.

Alexander took my empty glass, setting it beside his before reaching for the bottle. The champagne sparkled as he poured two more glasses, the moonlight catching the golden liquid like tiny stars dancing in our crystal flutes.

He handed one to me, our fingers brushing in a way that sent electricity up my arm.

“Ever fucked on a yacht before?” he asked casually as if inquiring about the weather or my preference for desserts.

I nearly choked on my champagne, the bubbles burning my nose as I sputtered. Heat rushed to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“No. This is only the second time I’ve even been on one. First was that fundraiser.”

I took another sip to steady myself, wondering how he could make such a vulgar question sound like the most natural thing in the world.

Alexander’s lips curved into a predatory smile. “For your first time fucking on a yacht, you’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

Confusion washed over me. If he didn’t plan to have sex with me, why had he insisted I dress like this? Was this just about looking at me? Or maybe…

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Oh god. Was Alexander Knight having performance issues? The thought was so ridiculous I almost laughed out loud. But why else would he bring me out here, dressed like sex on heels, only to make me wait?

“So you dragged me out of my apartment at this ungodly hour just to look at me?” I raised an eyebrow, feeling bolder than usual. “Or is there another reason we’re not tearing each other’s clothes off right now, Mr. Knight?”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Careful, Madison. I never said we weren’t going to fuck. I just said you’d have to wait.”

“For what? Your little blue pill to kick in?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Alexander’s expression darkened, and I immediately regretted my snarky comment. He set down his glass with deliberate slowness, then stalked toward me like a predator approaching prey.

“You think I need help getting hard for you?” His voice was deceptively soft as he reached me, his body inches from mine. “Let me show you exactly how wrong you are.”

He grabbed my hand and pressed it against the front of his pants. The hard length straining against the fabric left no doubt about his arousal.

“Does that feel like I need help?” he growled.

“No, Mr. Knight,” I whispered, heat flooding my core as I felt him throb beneath my palm.

“I don’t need pills. What I need is to watch you squirm a little longer. The anticipation makes everything… more intense.”

He stepped back, leaving me suddenly cold without his body heat. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling exposed in the red dress that left little to the imagination.

“Is that what this is about? Making me wait just to torture me?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed rather than aroused.

“Torture is such a harsh word. I prefer… foreplay.” He picked up his champagne glass again, sipping it while his eyes never left my body. “Besides, haven’t you heard good things come to those who wait?

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the throbbing between my legs. Why the hell was I so turned on by his little power games? This was just an arrangement, a business deal with benefits. I wasn’t supposed to be standing here practically dripping with desire while he casually sipped champagne.

“You know,” I said, trying to regain some control, “most men would be tearing that dress off me by

now.”

“I’m not most men.” Alexander set down his glass and moved toward me again. “And I don’t want to

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tear that dress. It looks too fucking good on you.”

His fingers traced the edge of my neckline, barely skimming the swell of my breasts. “I want to savor unwrapping you like the gift you are.”

My nipples hardened instantly, pressing against the thin fabric. Damn my body for betraying me like

this.

“I’m not a gift,” I said, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “I’m an employee with an unusual contract clause.”

Alexander laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

His hand slid down my side, following the curve of my waist to my hip. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my dress, but he was careful not to touch anywhere truly interesting. The bastard was deliberately avoiding my breasts, my ass, anywhere that might give me some relief from this building tension.

“I can’t decide if I want to bend you over this railing or lay you down on the deck,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the high slit of my dress.

I bit my lip, imagining both scenarios in vivid detail. My stupid hormones were turning my brain to mush. This was just sex. Amazing, mind–blowing sex with the hottest man I’d ever seen, but still just sex.

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