Billionaires Dollar Series

I sit up. His hands leave me only for a moment as I rearrange myself on top of him, a leg on either side of his lap. “We communicate much better when we’re touching,” I say.

His hands settle on my hips. “I’ve noticed that, too.”

“Good thing we have no problem getting physical.”

A thumb smooths up my ribcage. “No problem at all.”

I run a hand through the shortness of his hair, down over the rough stubble of his jaw. “Will you tell me something, at least? Where did you grow up?”

“Oregon,” he says. “A tiny town.”

“Nothing to do and not enough money to go around. People were forever unemployed. Houses stood empty. Everyone wanted out and nobody knew how to leave.”

I slip my hands inside his jacket and feel the quick beating of his heart. “But you left.”

His eyes harden. “I did.”

My mind fills in the rest of the story. Traveling north. Loans for college. Befriending Cole. Becoming someone else in Seattle, someone with a penchant for ruthless success.

His hand becomes a fist against my hip. “There was no way I could stay there. And once I’d left, no way I’d let myself fail.”

“You haven’t,” I murmur, wondering if all the tales of Nicholas Park, ruthless venture capitalist, ever get to the heart of the man. That he’s doing this for survival and not solely ambition.

“Cole had the same chip on his shoulder.” Nick leans his head back against the couch, looking up at me through lidded eyes. “Only his came from his old man and not the memory of crushing poverty.”

I swallow hard, keeping my hands on his chest. It’s strong and hard under my touch. “Does he know this story?”

“He knows enough of it.”

“And what about your family?”

He reaches out and touches my cheek gently, the back of a knuckle sliding over my jaw. “Gone, a long time ago.”

There’s more there. Of course there is. But we have time, and for now… I lean in and press my lips to his, pouring all my longing for him into that simple touch.

He groans against my lips and his hands come up to rest gently on my shoulder blades. It’s a kiss to seal, a kiss to start things. A we-will-have-many-more-of-these kind of kiss.

His words are spoken against my lips. “So you forgive me? For what I said last week?”

I kiss him in reply.

And when he pulls away, hands knotting at my thighs, head bowed against my shoulder, I know what he needs. It’s the same thing I ache for.

I tug at his jacket and he obliges, pulling it off and tossing it aside. His hands grip the hem of my shirt and I lift my arms high, letting him pull it off.

His hands burn against my bare skin. “Blair, I…”

“I know.”

He lifts me up, held against his body, as we walk toward the bedroom. I don’t stop kissing his neck as we do. It’s been two weeks since we did this. Two weeks of wondering and indecision and wanting, and now that he’s here, now that he’s explained…

His grip on my skin is tight. He kisses his way down to my bra and tugs at the cups, mouth settling over my nipples. I close my eyes at the sensations. Warmth races through my veins with each flick of his tongue.

He continues downwards, kissing my stomach, hands on the buttons of my trousers. “I’ve missed your body so much,” he says against my skin. “I’ve been such an idiot.”

A laugh breaks through my haze of lust. “We both have.”

“No, not you. Never you.” He pulls my trousers off and then he’s back, kissing my lips, and I wrap my arms around him. He’s hard against me. “Blair, I want to try.”

I hitch my leg around his hip. “I think you can do more than just try.”

He breaks away from my lips to laugh darkly. “I meant with us.”

“If I fuck up again… don’t hate me.”

“I won’t.” I reach up and grip his face, a hand on either side. “If you take me down off whatever pedestal you have me on.”

His eyes narrow. “Blair-”RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

“I mean it. I’m certainly not flawless. I choose this, too. I choose you.”

He rolls his hips once, pushing against me, and my breath comes out in a small gasp. “Say that again.”

“I choose you?”

Laughing, I run my hands up his broad back, marveling at the feel of his muscles underneath his warm skin. “I choose you,” I say. “I choose you, I choose you-”

And then he’s kissing me again, and there isn’t much thought left. Underwear is discarded and his hands, despite the roughness of the scarred palms, are soft on my skin.

“Yes,” he tells me when I open my mouth.

“I wasn’t going to protest.”

He settles between my thighs. “Sure you weren’t.”

But I wasn’t. No, when his tongue begins its sensual assault, I relax entirely into the sensations. Want and lust and heat and beneath it all, joy. That he’s here. That we’ve talked. That there is suddenly an us, even if it’s a new and fragile thing.

His hands grip my hips to keep me from arching away from him as I shatter. He grins as he rises up between my legs.

“I knew you’d eventually grow to love that.”

“You were right.”

“Don’t think it’ll ever stop satisfying me.”

“Me neither,” I say, and I’m rewarded by his dark laughter.

He positions himself and then he’s inside and there is no more talk. It’s just this joining and our breath and the feel of his body against mine, warm and large.