Billionaires Dollar Series

He pushes his way into my apartment. “Going home, when I had a plan for us after.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“Because I said, I have plans.”

Dear God, save me from the idiocy of men. “And that was code somehow? When had we decided that?”

He tugs at the collar of his shirt and sinks down onto my couch. His arm drapes over a score of decorative pillows but for once, he doesn’t scowl at them, keeping his gaze fixed on me. “So your crush never went away,” he says.

“That’s what this is about?”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

His hand at his collar tugs sharply and the bowtie comes undone, the tails hanging down his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me when I asked you the first time?”

“You mean after my brother made it into a joke?” I sit down on the arm of the sofa, wrapping my arms around myself. “Why do you think?”

“Damn it.” He runs a hand over his hair.

“Does it matter that much?” I have to give it to my voice-it’s deceptively calm.

“Yes. Because… if you’re emotionally involved, I’m going to hurt you somehow. I always do.” He leans his head against the back of the couch. “Fucking up relationships is what I do.”

I lower my voice. “Why would you think that?”

The gaze he sends me is scathing, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s clear it’s not me he’s angry at. “History tends to repeat itself.”

“It doesn’t have to.” I slide down onto the couch next to him. “And you know, you’re not responsible for my emotions. Only I am.”

His hand reaches out and lands on my knee. The silk of my dress has risen up and the scars on his palm tickle against my skin. “You say that now.”

“And I’ll say it again, even when it’s painful. So I’ve admired you from afar for a long time.” I shrug, even though I’m feeling anything but blasé. “So what?”

His thumb rubs a small circle on my skin. “So I don’t want you to feel taken advantage of. That I offered something I don’t know if I can live up to.”

This is too much. I hitch my dress up and climb onto him, straddling him just like I had earlier this evening. Mere hours ago, perhaps, but it feels like a different night entirely.

“When did you get so morose?” I demand. “Trust me enough to let me look out for my own emotions and best interest, okay? And right now, I want to be with you.”

His large hands come up to grip my waist. With his head still resting on the back of the couch, Nick’s eyes are laden with intensity.

It’s worth it. Anything that might come after this is worth it, just to be looked at like that by him.

“Say that last bit again,” he says.

“I want to be with you?”

I smile. “Asking for praise, Nick. How unlike you. But okay.” I press my lips to his cheek. “I want to be with you.”

“Again.” His hands find the hem of my dress and stroke up my outer thighs.

“I want to be with you.”

A faint shiver runs through his body, so faint I almost think I’ve imagined it. He presses his lips to my neck. “And God help me, but I want you too.”

I run my fingers over his scalp and he gives a low groan. “That’s not a crime.”

“Considering that your brother will kill me for it, yes, it is.”

There’s a million things I want to ask. Why does he think Cole will react so strongly? What parts of himself does he hide? But then his lips find mine and the thoughts float away, with nothing left to anchor them.

His kiss is different this time. It’s deep, slow, tender. I kiss him back just the same, pouring out all the emotion I’d tried to hide from him before. Yes, I tell him with my lips. I like you. Always have. Probably always will.

His body shudders against mine when I take his hand and guide it to my breast. If it gives him permission or strength, I don’t know, but a second later I’m lifted up against his body and carried slowly through my apartment.

Something tells me it’ll be different this time. That the way our bodies yearn to be closer is deeper, that our conversation is still continuing, just with our touch as the language of choice.

Come here, I tell him with my hands on his shoulders. Don’t be afraid.

I’m not, his mouth responds, kissing me so deeply there’s no denying his passion. I’m afraid for you.

And when he strips the dress from me, when I lie there in nothing but my underwear and his dark gaze, I feel more comfortable than I ever have before. Look at me, I tell him, stretching my hands above my head and arching my back. All yours.

His hands are reverent when they touch the edge of my bra, searching around my back for the clasp. He teases the fabric off my skin and replaces it with his lips. They’re warm and soft when they close around my nipple.

That such a simple thing can be felt so strongly is magic. It spreads through my body, through my torso, heat pooling in my stomach and lower still. I grip his head and lose myself in the sensation.

I’m dimly aware of his hands finding my panties, of them being tugged down my legs, of his mouth meeting mine again. “Let me go down on you,” he murmurs, his fingers searching between my legs. I gasp as he presses down with the heel of his hand. “You can tell me to stop if you need me to. Anytime.”

“Okay,” I whisper, because there’s no resistance left, and because being self-conscious around Nick is impossible. He chases all such thoughts away.

And when he settles between my legs… well, for the first time, I don’t instinctively seek to close them. The skin of my thighs against his tanned shoulders excites me instead. So does his dark hair, his large hands finding my hips to hold me, not to pin, but to secure.

And when he puts his tongue to use… well, I close my eyes and surrender. I force the thoughts away, like I’ve tried to do so many times before, and amazingly… they obey. My self-conscious brain doesn’t stand a chance against his strength.

His movements are slow, leisurely. So is his tongue. And for the few moments he lifts his mouth from me to speak, those words… they’re like a balm across my skin. Compliments. About how good I taste, how he could do this forever, how he enjoys this.

We’re still carrying on the conversation from earlier, all right. And perhaps this is his way of saying things he can’t yet. I drink it in for what it is, and under his hands, I come apart.

It’s slow, at first, the building of pleasure. So gradual I’m afraid of acknowledging it for fear it’ll grow wings and fly away. But it doesn’t. He grounds it, teasing my body, making himself at home between my legs. And when he uses his fingers to push inside of me at the same time as his tongue…

It surprises even me, the force of my orgasm. It sweeps through me with a power that leaves my back arched and limbs weak, forcing Nick to press down strongly against my hips.

Stay, is the message, even as my body is going and going and keeps going.

And I know then that whatever little crush I had on Nick is long gone. It’s evolved into something much stronger entirely, something I would do anything to explore. The man between my legs, well… I’ve never felt for anyone the way he makes me feel.

He rests his head on my thigh and gives me a wide, open smile. “Well,” he says. “Look at that.”

I reach down and run my fingers over his cheek, over the dark stubble that always coats the lower half of his face. “I can’t believe that happened.”