Billion Dollar Beast - Olivia Hayle Page 0,43

stop you from throwing yourself at me?”

I fasten my bra and glare at him through my sideswept bangs. His cool tone is quickly bringing out my temper. “I was never throwing myself at you.”

“Call it whatever you will. But I’m expecting perfect behavior tomorrow at your brother’s.”

“You’re coming to dinner, too?”

“Yes.” He looks at me like he’s daring me to protest. Does he think I still dislike him? Perhaps he does. He’s basically insinuating he just threw me a bone, yes, that bone, to stop me from jumping him.

“Come on, quit acting like this wasn’t for your own benefit, too.” I tug my skirt into place and arch a brow at him. “Your pleasure was pretty damn evident.”

His eyes narrow. “So was yours. By my count, you came twice, Blair.”

Of course Nicholas Park is the sort of man to gloat about that. If only he knew how rare that was for me.

“It was adequate,” I say breezily.

“Adequate?” He motions for me to turn around as he tucks my shirt in. “You wound me.”

“Hardly.”

“I’ll just have to aim for three next time.”

“Next time?” I step away from his large hands and shake out my hair, knowing how he likes that. The smile I throw his way is the same one I’ve always given him when we spar. “So you’re that sure there’ll be one?”

Nick narrows his eyes at me, but I don’t give him a chance to respond. I unlock the door and slip out of the closet instead, the scent of him still clinging to my skin, my heart beating a wild dance in my ribcage.

14

Blair

My brother’s house used to be a safe place. Dinner there was easy, fun, comfortable. It was family and food and laughter. Tonight is nothing like that. It’s nerves and expectation and this strange, giddy excitement, knowing that Nick will be there.

I take my time preparing for dinner. Putting on old-school music and trying on dresses, wanting to strike a perfect balance between cute and sexy. I’d promised Nick I’d behave myself, and I would. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try to tempt him. There was no rule about him not attacking me, was there?

I’m whistling to myself as I do my makeup. I’ve done two months out of three for my consulting contract for his firm. B.C. Adams is doing better than it has in a decade, though it’s too early to tell if it’s out of the woods yet. My brother is having a baby. I’ve finally—finally—slept with Nicholas Park after a near decade of wondering what it would be like.

It had been hard. It had been fast.

And it had been every bit as exciting as I’d always imagined. In a coat closet, nonetheless. That was definitely a first, and even if a small part of me is outraged at my own daring, the rest is… well, pretty damn impressed.

Skye is the first to grab a hold of me when I arrive. From the living room, I hear my brother and Nick talking, but she drags me in the opposite direction.

“Oh my god, Blair, they’re amazing.”

It takes me a moment to understand. “What’s amazing? Oh, you mean the samples?”

“Yes! I’m wearing your underwear now and one of your slips.” She looks down at the navy dress she’s wearing, and then laughs at herself. “Well, it’s not like you can see that. But I’ve been using the negligees too. Everything you gave me.”

Gratitude makes my chest warm. “Thank you, Skye. Truly.”

“How’ve you made lace this comfortable?”

“It’s actually the mixture of material. Elastane and polyamide and cotton, all in the right percentages.”

“Well, don’t change it,” she says firmly. “I’m writing down a list of notes too, with all my thoughts. I’ll give you extensive feedback.”

“That’s exactly what I want. Thank you.”

“How long is this a secret?” She glances toward the cased opening and the voices that beckon. “Cole has wondered, you know, about my sudden influx of new underwear. And not negatively, either.”

I close my eyes. “Ugh. I didn’t want to hear that.”

She laughs. “Come on, you already know I’m pregnant. How do you think that happened, huh?”

“Why are you continuing this line of conversation?”

“Sorry, sorry. You look a bit green. Do you need to sit down? Should I fetch my smelling salts?”

I roll my eyes at her version of exaggeration. “You read too many Regency novels. Smelling salts, Christ.”

“Clearly something we should bring back.” Her arm twines under mine. Shorter than me and with her brown hair, we look like nothing alike, and