The Billionaire: Forbidden Sex Love

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, my stare moving to his fingers, their length, the short nails at the end, remembering how they had felt on my body when I woke up to him rubbing my back.

“Delicious.”

I nodded. “Isn’t it?”

And so was the feeling inside me.

Damn it, I would miss him.

Such a big part of me was wishing we could do this every morning. The other part of me knew that was impossible.

That didn’t stop me from dreaming.

Fantasizing.

Wanting to buy myself even more time with him.

I checked my phone, seeing that in only two hours, his private plane would be taking off.

I took a few more bites and placed the metal cover over my plate. “I know you were planning on taking the SUV to the airport, but I’d like to drive you.”

He set his fork down, abandoning his eggs for coffee. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Once his hands were free, he stared at me for several beats and tapped his lap and said, “Come here.”

I got up from my seat and planted my butt on his thighs, wrapping my arms around his neck. A spot that was far too comfortable. A place that could so easily feel like home. I adjusted my body, snuggling my back against his chest, my feet balancing on the banister of the balcony, his chin resting on top of my head.

“Fuck … I’m going to miss this.”

My eyes squinted shut, the sensation in my heart becoming too much, his words sending me right over the edge.

I didn’t respond. I just held his arms as they crossed over my navel, and I felt the slight sway of his body, like the ocean breeze moving past us.

“How often do you find yourself in Florida?”

I felt him breathe, the air warming my hair.

“At least once a quarter. I have several clients here.”

“Are all the trips planned far in advance or surprises like this one?”

“Both.” He paused. “I’d have to look, but I don’t recall any more trips down here until the end of the year. That could always change though.” His arms tightened. “What about California? Do you ever make your way out there?”

I filled my lungs several times, holding in the air after each inhale. “It’s actually where I’m from.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah … I grew up in LA.” I stilled, feeling the pounding in my heart. “I do go back-holidays, birthdays, special events, things like that. But now that graduation is coming up, I have too much to do, and I won’t get a chance to return. Plus, my parents will be coming, so there’s no reason to fly home to see them.”

He turned my body to the side, so he could take in my face.

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. They hurt too much. So, I hugged him against me, clinging to his back, remembering that I’d felt the same way when I left his hotel the morning I returned to Miami.

In a couple hours, I would be recalling this exact moment, wanting to rewind time.

Wanting to relive the whole weekend.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

Wanting to recapture the happiness I felt when I was with him.

He pulled away and captured my face between his hands, drawing his mouth close to mine.

Kissing me.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss we shared when we were naked and tumbling in bed.

This was different.

This was breath and softness.

Tenderness.

My eyes stayed closed as his lips left mine and slowly opened, the emotion sparking when his emerald gaze was so rich and vibrant.

“Our paths will cross again, Jo.”

I smiled-for him, not for me. And without hesitation, I hugged him again, hiding my face on his shoulder, making sure he didn’t see the tears that were threatening to fall.

I dug for my voice, keeping the sadness out of it, and whispered, “I can’t wait for that moment.”

JENNER

“A

nother round, please,” Ford said to the bartender, pointing at the shot glass in front of him along with the ones in front of Dominick and me.

The bartender lifted a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter and refilled the small glasses.

Ford held his up in the air and said, “To getting shit-faced.”

“I’m already there,” I admitted. “Jesus. Enough. No more shots after this next one.”

“You’re tapping out?” Dominick dared.

I nodded, the movement so exaggerated that my head no longer felt attached. “Hell yes.”

“The pussy says he’s done,” Dominick grunted at Ford. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“It means nothing,” I said to them. “It means I have a meeting first thing tomorrow that I can’t fucking miss. And it means you two are assholes if you try to goad me into drinking more.”

Dominick held out his hand and said to the bartender, “Bottle. Please.”

She placed the half-empty bottle of whiskey in his grip, and he refilled the glasses again, looking at me when he voiced, “Drink up, pussy.”

“Fuck all three of you,” I said even though there was only two.

Maybe I was including the bartender.

Hell, I didn’t even fucking know at this point.

“Listen, dickhead”-my head dropped to see the time on my Rolex, my eyes squinting so the numbers didn’t jump-“my driver is outside, waiting to take me home, and my ass is planning on being in that car in two minutes.”

“And here I thought, you were about to redeem yourself,” Ford said. “I have a sitter tonight. You’re not ditching out early; you don’t have the balls.”

I threw back the whiskey Dominick had poured and slammed the glass on the bar top when I’d meant to just set it down. “My meeting is with Walter. I can’t cancel. Out of alll people, I can’t do that to him.”

“Dude, stop crying,” Dominick said. “You owe us. It’s as simple as that.”

Crying.

I could strangle the motherfucker.

But if I stayed any longer, the drinking wouldn’t stop. Neither would the teasing, and my brothers were two people I hated to disappoint.

I got up from my barstool and pounded their fists. “I’ll see you at the office.”

My suit jacket was lying across a nearby chair, and I grabbed it, rushing to the door before either of them could stop me. Once I got outside, I found my SUV parked at the base of the lot and climbed into the backseat.

“Mr. Dalton,” my driver said, “am I taking you home?”

“Please, Steven. Thank you.”

As he began to drive, I took out my phone and tried to make sense of what I was seeing. I was too drunk to reply to emails, but that didn’t stop me from reading some of the ones that had come in. Most were work-related. Clients needing contracts reviewed, questions about potential deals, issues that had arisen during acquisitions.

So many fucking billable hours.

I moved on to my social media, scanning through the pictures, my thumb swiping, making them move so fast that I just caught snippets of faces, bodies, scenery-nothing important. But one of them caught my attention, causing me to scroll back, stopping on the photo.

Fuck me.

Jo had posted the picture a few hours ago. It was of her at a Marlins game. Her hair was braided on the sides with a hat on top. She wore a team jersey that she’d tied to show off her stomach and cutoffs on the bottom.

I went to blow up the photo and accidentally liked it.

Goddamn it.

I moved on to the next picture of her in a long dress and a hat similar to the one she’d worn to the beach, and I realized I hadn’t seen this photograph.

I’d followed her Instagram on the plane ride to Miami, but work had been keeping me so busy the last week that I guessed I hadn’t spent much time checking out her account.