Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120

“Dinner first,” I said, pulling back with every ounce of self-control I had. “Fun later.”

He smiled, that mischievous smile that always made me forget my own name.

“Alright. But only because I’m starving. And not just for dinner.”

I turned to finish my plates, but felt his hands on my waist again. I tried to concentrate on the risotto, but it was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body or the way his fingers traced small circles on my skin through the fabric of my dress.

“The risotto’s going to stick if I don’t stir it,” I protested weakly, already melting in his arms.

“Then stir,” he whispered near my ear. “I’ll stay right here.”

I tried to obey, picking up the wooden spoon to stir the rice, but when his hands found the curve of my hips, my concentration completely vanished. The spoon almost slipped from my fingers when he gently nibbled my earlobe.

“You’re sabotaging me,” I said, turning in his arms to face him.

“Just appreciating the view,” he murmured, his gaze traveling down and back up to my eyes. “And it’s quite a view.”

There was something different in the way he looked at me—an intensity I hadn’t seen before. When his eyes fixed on the neckline of my dress, I felt my heart race. When his hands cupped my face, his voice dropped lower.

“You’re beautiful tonight,” he said softly. “But… there’s something different about you.”

“Different?” My voice came out a little too high. I tried to smile. “Different how?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he kissed me-deeply, urgently, like he’d been waiting all week for that moment. I clung to his shirt, matching his intensity, the world narrowing to just the two of us.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and there was a tension in his jaw that I recognized as self-control being tested.

“Different,” he repeated, his voice rough. “Like you’re glowing from the inside.”

Before I could question what he meant, his hands found my waist, easily lifting me and setting me down on the kitchen counter. The cold marble against my bare thighs contrasted with the heat emanating from his body as he positioned himself between my legs.

“Christian…” I began, but the words died when he kissed my neck, his tongue tracing a path to my collarbone.

“Are you sure we can’t eat afterward?” he murmured against my skin, his hands sliding down my thighs, pushing the hem of my dress up.

The touch of his fingers on the inside of my thighs made me arch involuntarily, a sigh escaping my lips. It was incredible how he could reduce me to pure sensations with just a few strategic touches.

“Dinner…” I tried to protest again, but my voice faltered when his lips found that sensitive spot just below my ear.

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