Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 519 Madeline's POV The apartment door opened with a soft click. Marcus didn't hesitate. He turned toward me with that mischievous smile I knew so well, and before I could say a word, he already had me in his arms, lifting me off the floor in one smooth, decisive motion. He carried me across the threshold like I weighed nothing at all. A light, happy laugh slipped from my lips. My arms went around his neck on pure instinct, the bouquet still clutched in one hand. "Marcus!" I protested, completely failing to hide my smile. "Tradition, Madeline.

You don't argue with tradition," he said, his eyes shining with a mix of amusement and possessiveness that made me shiver inside. He didn't set me down right away. He stood there in the middle of the living room, holding me as if I were no more than a feather. His gaze traced my face, and the playfulness faded into a deep seriousness that made my heart start pounding. "This reminds me of the Maldives," he said, his voice soft, like a caress. "The first time I carried you into that room. Everything was new and scary, but even then... it was you.

Always you." The memory washed over me, warm and sweet. "I think, deep down, I always knew it was you too..." I whispered. Finally, he lowered me until my feet touched the floor, but his arms stayed wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his solid, familiar body. The bouquet slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor, forgotten. "Now..." he murmured, and his voice had changed-rougher, heavy with an intention that sent a shiver down my spine. "Now Aurora is with her grandparents. And we have the whole night. Just us." My heart was pounding like a drum in my chest.

than I meant it He didn't answer with words. He tilted his head and captured my lips in a kiss. And it was nothing like the chaste kiss from the church. This was pure hunger. My fingers buried themselves in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until we were both breathless. His hands slid down my back to the curve of my hip, squeezing, dragging me flush against 1/3 the hard proof of his desire, and a low moan escaped my throat. "Bedroom,"

doorframe and laughed into each other's mouths, the sound swallowed by urgency. He guided me into the bedroom, and finally our lips parted, both of us breathing hard. His hungry, darkened gaze traveled from my face down to the white

and I felt more beautiful, more desired, than ever before. "Wow," he breathed, his voice rough with awe. "You're a dream." I pulled him toward me, my trembling fingers working

already knew, yet rediscovering me as if it were the first time. There was his taste on my lips, the sound of his ragged breathing in my ear, the rough whispers of love and possession. "You're mine," he growled, burying his face into my neck as his hands and hips moved together in a perfect rhythm, driving me

guided him, begged him, asked for more-everything. The tension coiled inside me, tight and sweet, until I couldn't hold it back anymore. His name tore from my lips in a muffled cry against his shoulder as the wave crashed over me, a rush of pure ecstasy that left me shaking and trembling in his arms, my vision going dark for