Dance With the Billionaire - Book Three: Dance With the Billionaire, #3

By Charlotte Eve

This is the third book in the Dance With The Billionaire Series by Charlotte Eve!

 

"I'll give you a thousand dollars for your panties."

Wait ... what?

Tell me he didn't just say that ...
 

I didn't want a man in my life. I thought love was for losers, and all I needed to be happy were my friends and my dancing. But then, one Friday night, a gorgeous arrogant playboy called Dylan Campbell came crashing into my life and changed everything.
 

At first I hated him. I thought he was a spoiled, entitled a*****e. And he was - at least at first. But then he turned out to be so much more than that, too. Because he taught me who I really was - awakening desires inside me that I didn't even know existed.

 

He taught me about love and life, and maybe I taught him a few things, too. And now everything has changed. Because now he owns me completely ...

 

A must read for all lovers of romance -Kat Loves Books
This was one hot scorching read. I can't quitebelieve how good it was - Reflections of a Book Geek
A great story ... There's something aboutCharlotte Eve's writing that has me begging for more - Rapid Reviewer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Garden of Eden Press
• Release date: Jul 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393283256

Charlotte Eve

Charlotte Eve was born to English parents and grew up between London and New York. She returned to England to study, and has now settled in London, where she loves the history, the culture and the tea. Maybe not the rain though. Charlotte still visits New York as often as she can, to shop until she drops.

Book preview

Part One

Chapter One

"I’d pay a million dollars just to touch you right now," Dylan growls, his voice tight with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation right through me.

I’m afraid, sir, you just aren’t allowed to do that, I reply with a teasing shake of my head and a playful little smile.

I turn away for a moment, swaying in time to the music, pulling the crisp white cotton dress shirt seductively upwards, slowly uncovering the black lace tops of my stockings, then a moment later the bare skin of my thighs. And then I give him just the quickest flash of my ass before I let the hem of the shirt fall down again.

Pro tip: no matter how much you spend in Victoria’s Secret on sexy-ass lingerie, nothing will get a guy hotter than the sight of his girl wearing one of his own shirts.

I spin back to face him. Damn. As always, the sight of him knocks the air right out of me. And now he’s looking even more flustered than before. He’s spread his legs spread wide, so that I can see the bulge of his rock hard cock straining against the confines of his tailored suit pants, that hungry look of desire I know so well blazing from his jet-black eyes.

There’s this feeling I get, when I look at him and I know I’m turning him on; well, it turns me on, too. It’s like this crazy vicious circle of lust and it feels like it’s about to explode and take both of us with it.

God damn it, Julia, he murmurs, his voice low and resonant, spreading his legs even wider and nodding at the impressive bulge between his legs. As if I could miss it. As if I could take my eyes off his beautiful cock. Look how fucking hard you’re making me. I wish I could touch you.

We both know that can’t happen, sir, I say firmly.

And don’t get me wrong. I wish he could touch me, too. I wish it more than anything else in the whole goddamn world. I wish he could run his hands over my breasts; oh God, the way he teases my bare flesh, the way he tweaks and thumbs my rock-hard nipples. And I wish I could push back against him, too, grinding my aching pussy against the hot hard bulge of his cock, because I’m so fucking ready for him right now, so wet. My clit’s throbbing so hard it hurts, and there’s only one medicine for this pain. I just need to feel him inside me.

But that’s not able to happen, I remind myself, no matter how much we’re both pining for it.

So instead, I do the best that I can, teasing open the top button of this oversize white shirt, exposing a tantalizing flash of cleavage beneath, all the while swaying my hips in time to the slow, sexy R’n’b song that’s filling the apartment. I let another button pop open, then another, so that the shirt opens wide enough for him to see that I’m not wearing a bra beneath it, wide enough for him to see just how damn hard my nipples are for him right now.

He moistens his full lips with his tongue, leaning forward, eager to see even more of me, the bulge between his legs growing even larger.

And then all of a sudden the screen crackles and he freezes and flickers.

God damn it.

I stop dancing and move towards my MacBook, urgently clicking on the connection button on the screen, hoping it’s just some temporary glitch and he’ll be back any moment. But no such luck. A moment later the Skype call disconnects completely, and Dylan’s image crackles into blackness.

My heart sinks and I pull the shirt tightly around my body, hugging it to me; this oversize cotton dress shirt now my only physical connection to him – my only reminder of Dylan Campbell, who’s all the way on the other side of the fucking world.

Just then my cell starts ringing. I check the display: Dylan calling.

Hey! I say, answering, just so glad to hear his voice again. That was so frustrating!

Tell me about it, he sighs, the wifi in this place is terrible. I’ll have someone look into it, first thing.

It’s okay, I reply, trying my hardest to remain upbeat.

Listen, Julia, I’d better go, he adds reluctantly. My meeting’s about to start, and I promised I wouldn’t leave Alex alone with this one.

Okay, I sigh. I love you.

I love you too, baby. I can’t wait to see you for real on Saturday.

And then he hangs up the call, leaving me there alone in this apartment that just seems so huge and empty without him.

I feel like crying, but I fight back the tears.

It’s so damn frustrating.

These calls are never enough, and I miss him like crazy. I love him so fucking much. And I just wish he wasn’t all the way in London.

But I remind myself that I’ll see him again in just a few more days – just like his contract promised. And until then, I need to stay patient.

In the mean time, I guess I’d better catch you guys up on the last few months of my life, right?

Well, it’s not all complaints, and that’s for sure. Sometimes I even have to pinch myself to check that I’m not dreaming, when I remember just how far I’ve come – and how different my life is these days to what it was say just one year ago.

So the last few weeks, Dylan’s been in London setting up the UK office, along with Alex, who’s the head of European operations. From what I can gather, Alex sounds like a really nice guy, and I’m glad Dylan’s got a friend out there. It sounds like they’ve really been hitting it off. They’ve been meeting with major investors, signing off on projects, and hiring staff.

And while ‘I’m moving halfway across the world’ isn’t exactly the words a girl dreams of hearing from her brand new BF, most boyfriends don’t own their own private jet, either.

In the last four weeks, I’ve already been over to London twice, which is totally freaking crazy when I think about it. I mean, it took me practically eighteen years just to get out of New Jersey, and now I’ve been across the pond twice? A girl who, until a few months ago didn’t even own a passport?

Like I said: pinch me.

Oh, and London is absolutely amazing, too, even if it really does rain all the time. But Dylan always makes sure to book us into the finest hotels – the last time I visited it was a suite at the Dorchester – so I guess you could say we haven’t exactly done much sightseeing, if you know what I mean. But even the little I have seen of London so far – the streets, the squares, the quaint houses – well, it’s all just gorgeous. It looks like something out of Mary Poppins. And I kinda thought