Billionaires Dollar Series

“You have no idea.” Complete honesty fills my voice. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Yes.” She’s flushed and wet and gorgeous, all covered up again. “When are you meeting him?”

“Far too soon, probably.”

She chuckles. “Poor brother. You seem so excited about it.”

I kiss her again, taking my time. It’s a kiss to savor, now that I know there’s more of this to come. I can’t wait. “I’d better go,” I say. “Want to help me set up the inside of the treehouse tomorrow? I have about forty-five minutes of kid-free time.”

Bella laughs, waving me away. “Go. And yes, I’ll help. I can’t wait.”

And judging by the tone of her voice, she means it, too.

I knock on Ethan’s door the next day, right on time. I’m not the least bit nervous, nor has the memory of yesterday been playing on repeat-of being in his arms, our bodies pressed together underwater, his warm, demanding mouth on mine…

No, I’m unaffected. And if I could only tell myself that enough times, it might become true.

I’d said I had no expectations, but after he kissed me, well… That’s not entirely true now, not when I know what he’s capable of. And if he only had time for me every other week, that would be okay, if only he’d kiss me like that. Like he wanted me more than he wanted air, his hands gripping me like I was desire itself.

I press the heels of my hands against my burning cheeks. Until a few months ago, I’d been six years into a relationship with my ex and content. He was still the only man I’d ever slept with. Who was this new me who made out in pools with attractive older men?

Ethan’s front door opens. “Sorry for the wait,” he says. “I was on the phone. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” Our arms brush as I step past him inside. There’s a hint of him, of soap and linen and man, in the air between us.

“No, thank you,” he says, shutting the door firmly behind me. “For helping me with the treehouse. For coming over whenever we need you. Brownies, interior decorating… you know everything.”

“That’s me, at your service.”

Ethan’s eyes lighten. He reaches out and braces a hand against the wall on either side of me. “At my service?”

I’m not sure if I’m breathing. “Yes.”

He bends to press a warm kiss to my neck, right below my jaw. A shudder runs through me at the contact. “And now I have you here all alone,” he murmurs.

“So it’s it was all a ruse? You never wanted my treehouse decorating skills.”

His lips trail up to meet mine. It’s slow, tentative, languid. Drawing me out and into the kiss until I’m drowning in it. He doesn’t stop when I’m struggling for breath. No, Ethan just returns to my neck, continuing down, turning back the edge of my shirt to reach my collarbone.

I grip his shoulders. “Eager?” I murmur, but I’m talking about myself here, because I’m shivering all over.

Ethan smiles against my skin. His kisses slow, returning to my mouth. His hands dig into my waist. “Yes. I can’t help it,” he says. “After yesterday, well…”

I run soft fingers over his cheek. He hasn’t shaved today, the stubble sharp against my fingers. It’s wrong to compare, but my mind goes there anyway. He’s different in every possible way from the only man I’ve been with before.

“I get it,” I whisper. “I feel it too.”

Ethan groans and rests his forehead against mine. “Where did you come from?”

“Route 520,” I murmur. “From central Seattle. Took the exit over by Evergreen Plaza, and then east into Greenwood.”

He gives me his wide smile, the one that takes my breath away. It speaks of days in the sun and arms strong enough to carry both your groceries and your troubles. He kisses me again, and I have the distinct feeling of being swept off my feet, of flying further and further away from the Bella who takes things slowly and methodically and who-

Ethan’s phone rings. He breaks away from me, his hand sliding from my waist to his pocket in search of the offender.

He raises the phone to his ear, his smile gone. “Hi.”

I wrap my arms around myself and follow him, at his insistence, into the living room. Boxes of items he’d ordered are spread out on the hardwood floor. I look through a massive box of throw pillows and listen to Ethan’s conversation.

“No, that’s not acceptable. I’ve told you this before. I want at least a week’s advance notice, and I want you to send me a copy of the flight details.”

His voice is unlike I’ve ever heard it before.

“I’m not keeping you from them. I’m just holding you to two very simple rules. Do you want me to write them down?”

I grab a box of the outdoor lights and contemplate heading out into the garden. This is a personal conversation.

“I remember,” he mutters. “And if you think it’ll make me more likely to… No… Yes, and anyway, it’s simple. Let me know more than a week in advance and I’ll be the one to tell them.”

Yeah, I should be out of here. I clutch the box of lights tight and head toward the patio door.

“I won’t put them on.” His voice softens, but it’s not with kindness. It feels almost threatening. “Lyra, that tactic won’t work either. Let me know when you’ve booked your flight.”

I’ve just gotten the patio doors open when Ethan clicks off the phone. After taking a deep breath, he picks up two of the miniature wooden chairs, one under each arm, and heads toward me.

“Trying to make an escape?” he asks, but the genuine humor in his voice is gone. It’s been replaced by that furrow in his brow, the one that makes him look older than he is. Funny, what a difference expressions make.

“Yes,” I say. “That sounded personal. I didn’t want to intrude.”

We walk in silence across his lawn toward the treehouse in the corner. It’s beyond anything I’d imagined-shingles and a stepladder and a tiny balcony. Small window-boxes have been installed, too. It’s kid heaven. Rich kid heaven, perhaps. It looks like a dream.

I pause on the lawn. Ethan stops too, looking from me to the treehouse. His face lightens somewhat. “Impressed?”

“Wildly,” I say. “Can I move in? I promise I won’t play loud music. I’ll be the model tenant.”

He snorts. “Tempting, but I’m not sure that would comply with housing regulations. It doesn’t have any heating. Not to mention it’s tiny. Like, miniscule.”

“Don’t knock my new house.”

Ethan chuckles, putting the chairs down by the ladder. “Just wait till you see the patio add-on the company sent me sketches of.”

“Wow.”Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

He runs a hand over his neck. “And you weren’t intruding.”

“I wasn’t?”

“It was my ex-wife.” His jaw works, looking away from me toward the house. “She likes to talk a big game about coming to visit, but she rarely does. The girls get worked up about her coming only to be disappointed when she bails.”