Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 546

Chapter 546

Gwen’s POV

For the first time, I felt Nick really kiss me back.

It wasn’t passive.

It wasn’t that polite tolerance he’d been showing every time I kissed him.

It was real. Genuine. Urgent.

His hands slid down to my waist with a firmness that caught me off guard. His fingers closed around the curve of my hips, pulling me hard against him, erasing every last inch of space between our bodies. I felt every solid, warm muscle pressed against me through our clothes.

His heat wrapped around me completely, twisting my stomach and sending my heart racing.

For one glorious moment, one perfect second suspended in time, I thought that finally, finally, that frustrating wall of self-control he kept so carefully built had come crashing down.

But then, like always, like I should have known it would…

The façade returned.

Nick pulled back.

He wasn’t rough. He was gentle. Almost tender. His hands still rested on my waist, but he deliberately created distance between us. I could feel the reluctance in his touch, the way his fingers lingered for one extra second before letting me go.

His breathing was uneven, coming out in short, warm bursts I could still feel against my skin. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide with obvious desire.

I couldn’t resist.

I needed to know.

I needed to understand.

“We…” I started, searching for the right words, trying to frame the question in a way that didn’t make me sound completely crazy. “We don’t… have any kind of intimacy?”

Nick blinked, his expression shifting from restrained desire to pure confusion.

“What?”

“I mean… like…” I waved my hands vaguely, feeling my cheeks heat up. “I know that for some crazy reason we made a deal to only have sex after marriage. Fine. I get it. I respect that. Even if I think it’s a little… old-fashioned.”

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He kept staring at me, frozen like a statue.

I took a deep breath and kept going.

“But… not even a little fooling around? No making out? No… I don’t know, more daring touches?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“I mean…” I pushed on, gaining courage as the words spilled out, as the frustration I’d been holding finally found a voice. “You seem tense even when I kiss you. Like it’s… I don’t know, forbidden? Wrong somehow? Like you’re cheating on someone instead of kissing your own fiancée.”

I saw the exact moment Nick’s face turned red.

It was incredibly cute.

I couldn’t help smiling.

There was something absolutely adorable about the way he got flustered over things like this. Here was a grown man. A father. A property owner. Someone who probably dealt with serious problems and made important decisions every day.

And he was blushing like a virgin teenager just because I’d mentioned physical intimacy.

It was charming in the most unexpected way.

But it was also confusing.

Because we were engaged.

Supposedly getting married.

We should be close enough to talk about these things, right? We should be comfortable discussing them, laughing about them, maybe even planning our wedding night with that mix of nervousness and excitement couples in love have.

“Because honestly,” I went on, crossing my arms and looking straight at him, “I feel like we have this chemistry. I feel it every time you look at me. Every time we’re close. You feel it too. I know you do.”

I paused, watching his reaction.

“But… we’ve never tried?” I pressed. “You’ve never let yourself explore that? Nothing. Nothing at all?”

Nick suddenly brushed past me, turning his back with a sharp movement.

I realized he probably didn’t want me to see how flustered he was. The lingering blush on his face. The discomfort written into every line of his body.

He started walking toward the cellar exit, his long, determined strides echoing against the stone walls. Shadows danced around him with each step, casting strange patterns on the ancient stone.

“Of course we have,” he replied, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he was commenting on the

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weather. “Of course we have… some level of intimacy. We’re engaged, aren’t we?”

But there was something in his voice.

Something that didn’t quite fit.

I followed him immediately, quickening my pace to keep up with his long strides. I wasn’t letting this go.

Not now.

“Then why,” I insisted, my voice echoing softly through the cellar, “do you seem so… awkward around me? So uncomfortable? Like you’ve never touched me before?”

Nick stopped so abruptly I almost ran into him.

He stood there for a moment, his back to me. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Then, slowly, he turned to face me.

There was something in his eyes now.

Something beyond embarrassment.

It looked like… conflict.

Like he was fighting a battle inside himself that I couldn’t see, but could definitely feel.

“It’s not that, Gwen,” he said at last, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of pure nerves. “It’s just… what if someone walks in? This is my family’s property. I need to be respectful. To my daughter. To my mother. To the staff…”

He paused, his eyes searching mine, almost asking for understanding.

“It’s not like they couldn’t see us… you know.”

The words came out awkward and clumsy, but his meaning was clear.

I thought about it for a second, letting his logic sink in.

And whether I liked it or not, it made sense.

He had a reputation to protect. An image as a responsible, respectable father. A young, impressionable daughter who didn’t need to see her dad making out with his fiancée in public spaces. Employees who deserved a professional environment. Guests who paid for a warm, family-friendly experience, not a public display of affection.

“I get it,” I said finally, and felt a smile begin to form on my lips.

Because if that was the problem, if it was just about place and privacy, then there was a very obvious

solution.

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“And I kind of love how shy you get when I ask you intimate questions,” I added, letting my smile grow

more teasing.

I laughed, unable to help myself. The look on his face. That mix of relief that I understood him, and lingering embarrassment from having to talk about it.

It was adorable.

I wanted to memorize it. Remember forever how vulnerable and sweet he looked in that moment.

This time, I was the one who moved.

I walked past him toward the cellar exit, deliberately slow, my hips swaying subtly with every step. I could feel his gaze on me, warming my skin even through my clothes.

But I stopped just after passing him.

Stopped, then tilted my head slightly to look back over my shoulder, catching his eyes with mine.

“But tonight,” I said softly, my voice low and full of promise, “with the bedroom door closed… we won’t be disrespecting anyone.”

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