Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Nadia Lee Page 0,48

“I don’t know. Maybe infatuation?” I shrug helplessly.

“Infatuation.” His tone is calm, but terribly flat.

I nod, although my mouth is so dry that I’m afraid I’m going to need a saline infusion soon. “You seem like a great guy. I’m sure you’re a fabulous catch too. You said so yourself in the restaurant. I know there are probably tens of thousands of women in Louisiana alone who want you.”

“But…?”

“But I live here. And you…live there.” I gesture behind me.

“Actually, Louisiana is that way.”

“Fine. There.” I fling my arm in the correct direction because apparently it’s important. “The point is, you need to go back. Your company needs your leadership. Your family needs you there.”

The muscles in his jaw flex. Argh. Soothing a bruised male ego really isn’t my strength.

He takes a long, slow breath and then exhales. “Let me summarize your objections. One, you’re worried about Aaron hurting your father. Two, you’re worried what you’re feeling is mere infatuation and, within four months, you’re going to wake up next to me feeling nothing but disgust. Three, I live too far away. Anything else?”

“Well…maybe not disgust.” I’ve never felt disgust for my exes—except when they get needy and stalkerish or pulled an Aaron. It was just simple indifference and wonder—how and why did I pick them? “But…yes. Close enough. That about sums it up.”

“Very well. Thank you for…confirming.” He sounds like he’s signing off on a work project.

“You’re welcome.” If he’s going to be polite and professional, I can be the same.

Now that he understands that nothing more is going to happen, he’ll head back home. It should make me happy, but somehow I feel like I just lost a war.

He reaches out and caresses my chin before turning and slowly taking a couple of steps away.

“Bye,” I whisper, hating the contradictory emotions pulsing in my veins.

Abruptly, he stops, then spins around, striding back toward me. Before I can react, he cradles my face, his large palms hot against my cheeks. His mouth is on mine, and oh my God. My whole body explodes, the kiss nuclear to my heightened senses. All the nerve endings that have been wound tight since the moment he crashed the dinner snap, sending shock waves of bliss through me.

I whimper as he licks me, and I lick him back. He’s as good as I remember—no, better. My head swims, and I clutch his shoulders, my long nails digging into his lean, steely muscles.

We devour each other like tasting and getting drunk on us is the only thing that matters. My heart is pounding like a drum at a rave. Need and pleasure entwine and coil around me.

I press myself against his tall body, feel the hard length of him pushing against me. It’s so hot how his reaction to me isn’t controlled, no matter how self-possessed he appears in public.

Just as abruptly as he started the kiss, he pulls back. His eyes glitter like dark emeralds, his lips slightly swollen and wet. The pads of his thumbs brush the upper curves of my cheekbones. His breathing is rough, and a sharp longing for him—the need—clogs my throat, making it harder for me to draw in air as well.

“I’ll take care of everything, Jo.” His raspy voice moves over my sensitized skin, and I shiver. “Everything.”

Then, before I can gather my wits and process what just happened, he places a kiss on my forehead. “See you around, pretty girl.”

And he’s gone.

Chapter Nineteen

Edgar

I twist and turn in bed. Again. I check the time. A little after five.

I’m not going back to sleep, though. My blood is simmering again. Kissing Jo felt good—and right. But in retrospect, it was an unplanned and uncontrolled move on my part. If I’d given myself some time to think about it, I might not have done it.

But when she whispered, “Bye,” like that, as though we’d never see each other again, my restraint broke. She needed to understand that not only will we see each other again, I’ll make sure the objections she raised are dealt with.

Regardless, the kiss contributed to my insomnia. My cock’s hard and throbbing still. Even my hand wrapped around it doesn’t do much, because it isn’t Jo’s hand. Hers is smaller, more delicate…slightly cooler than my own. When she held me—

I should stop thinking about it. Otherwise I won’t be able to get my body under control. I’m not joining Tony and Ivy for breakfast with morning wood.

I lie back, staring at the ceiling. To calm myself