Page 21 of The Billionaire's Proposal

Our foreheads rest against each other as I take in the feelings swimming through me. That was hot. We rest, allowing our hearts to return to a slower beat.

He grabs a handful of paper towels—at least they’re not the brown ones from a chain restaurant. These are soft and white. Winslow wipes me clean, peppering my neck and shoulder with kisses. Then he cleans himself and tucks in his shirt. Remembering the stain on my dress, he wets another towel and rubs the red stain with vigor. When it’s faded, he pulls it over my head and gives me a sensual kiss with his hands threading through my hair.

“You ready?”

Nodding with utter exhilaration, he interlaces our hands and opens the door. Elena, my client from today’s excursion, is waiting to enter. She’s wearing a red dress and looks like a million bucks.

Winslow’s hand slips out of mine and when I look up at him, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

Chapter Twelve

WINSLOW

We exchange words, although I can’t tell you what was said. I guide Cameron back to the patio, and we take a seat next to Wells and his entourage.

“Where did you go, man?” his brother asks.

I’m at a loss. How was I on the highest cloud five minutes ago and now, I feel like I’ve been in the dungeons of purgatory? Elena looked exactly like Phoebe. I’ll never be free of her death. She follows me everywhere.

Cameron saves me. “On my way to the bathroom, a jerk spilled a drink on me and then hit on me, so it took a while to try to get out the stain.”

Wells raises his glass of blue alcohol. “Hmm. You both look a little flushed. Maybe you should call it a night.” My little brother winks at me. It’s obvious we just had sex, and he believes I should have more of it. Having sex with a plethora of women has always been Wells David Worthington’s modus operandi.

Five minutes ago, taking Cameron home with me and having an endless amount of sex was top on my priority list. Now, I feel sick to my stomach—like I’ve betrayed Phoebe.

I’ve had sex since she passed, but I never wanted someone so much I couldn’t wait until we got to a room. Cameron brings out the risk-taker side of me that has been reserved for business. In that environment, I can weigh the risk versus reward easily—money. It’s quantifiable and although we have a loss department, I usually go with my gut whether or not the numbers agree.

Right now, I’m completely lost, thinking about Phoebe, who would never have sex in a public place or go fishing or paddleboard on the shallows of the ocean.

Since I’m no longer in the mood to party, I say, “Cameron, I’ll take you home.” I take my phone out, texting Barclay that we’re ready.

I do my best not to look at Cameron, but I can sense her disappointment. She stands. “Nice to meet you, Wells.”

“Hope to see you again.” Once again, he tips his glass to her before swallowing the rest of the alcohol in one gulp, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

Shaking my head at how fucking unfair I’m being, I place my hand lightly on the small of her back as we wind through the restaurant to the valet stand where Barclay is parked.

I open the door for her. “No, thanks. I’ll call for a pickup. Obviously, you regret what just happened.”

“Quit being stubborn. I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t need your charity. God, I’m such a fool.”

This time, I peer into her golden eyes. “You’re not,” I whisper. “I just… just. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“We both wanted the sex. But I never expected you to turn on a dime like that. You instantly went from eating me to telling me you’ll take me home. Either you’re out of practice, or I’m just not what you want.” Tears fill her eyes.

Defying all the feelings of loss, I pull her into me. “You’re coming with me.”

“I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you home after I explain.” I kiss her lightly, again, and then again. Eventually, her body relaxes into mine for a split second before she stiffens. It’s as if she caught herself being vulnerable, and she didn’t like it.

“This is your last chance… Winnie.” A hint of sarcasm laces through her tone.

When we arrive at my building, I open the door and slide out, extending my hand. Her gorgeous face peeks out the door. “Where are we?”

“My place. Give me a chance to explain, and then Barclay will take you home.”

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