Page 30 of The Billionaire's Proposal

Cameron: Stop.

Me: I can’t. I keep looking at the picture you sent a few weeks ago. Send me another.

Cameron: Nope. Not doing that again. You have a knack for leaving your phone where other people can pick it up. You can send me one.

Me: Let me excuse myself.

I watch the bouncing dots as I make my way into my personal bathroom inside my Chicago office.

Cameron: Don’t, it will make me miss you more.

So, I unbutton my shirt, unbuckle my belt, and open the fly to take a picture of my lower abs and the hair leading to my dick and hit send.

Cameron: Commando?

Me: Ran out of clean underwear because I’ve been thinking about you.

Cameron: You better be keeping that in your pants.

Me: Why? Do you want me all for yourself? Winky face

More dancing dots.

We haven’t defined our relationship. It’s only been a couple of weeks. I’ve told her I want her all to myself, but we haven’t declared each other exclusive, although she has been for me. She fills me in every sense of the word and until just now, I haven’t thought of Phoebe.

Cameron: I don’t know if you’re enough for me, but that pic is hot.

Me: Do you remember when you couldn’t walk you were so sore? When I’m done with you tomorrow, you’ll need one of those electronic vehicles with the basket to go to the grocery store.

Cameron: Laughing emoji. Challenge accepted.

She knows I’m not kidding, and we’re sexually compatible. Experimenting is part of the fun, not true dom/sub stuff, but it heightens our senses being blindfolded or not allowing the other to use their hands.

The guys and I go to dinner at a private club where the who’s who of Chicago shamelessly cheat on their wives. We meet with a potential client, and he has women for all of us. When it’s obvious that Benson and I aren’t interested, Wells takes the redhead off my hands, and I shake my head, knowing he’ll take both women home. If he had someone like Cameron, one woman would satisfy him. Wells and I are complete opposites, but damn, he’s fun, and beneath it all, one caring fucker.

The client tells the women we need a moment alone so we can discuss business, but all I can think about is filming my segment tomorrow with the last woman and then the what-not-to-do commercial with Cameron the day after.

My brothers and I toast our new client with a bottle of Dom. The redhead comes back, sits on my lap, extends her arm, and snaps a photo. Then she turns, kissing me on the cheek. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Oh, I do. She has long, brown hair, golden eyes, and decency.

Benson’s smile widens. Like me, he’s always been a one-woman man. Even when we were both single, it was about dating the same girls until we broke up for whatever reason. Once I began dating Phoebe, Benson didn’t date for a long time. Little did I know he was in love with my sister.

He simply states, “The boat captain turned down the million. I recall you saying you would propose if any woman was willing to take the chance on the big money.”

“Come on, you know I wasn’t serious.” I wasn’t.

Benson pushes his feet against the carpet, leaning his chair back. “Waverly thinks you’re in love. And I bet if you give me a look at your messages, you’ve been talking to her.”

“It’s different from Phoebe.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, she’s the complete opposite of Phoebe. Maybe I’m rebounding.” A soft sigh escapes my mouth. “I don’t want to hurt her, but I….”

He sets his chair back on the ground. “Rebounding would have been the first year or two. You’re allowed to love someone else. And there’s no denying the change in you since Cameron came into your life.”

“How can I love two people so completely different?”

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