Page 48 of The Billionaire Experience

Evidently, she was going to make him work for it.

“You’re bailing me out.” He put both hands on his chest. “I’m hopeless without you. You slept great here the other night. And I was on my best behavior.”

She pursed her lips, fighting another smile.

“My very best,” he said, laying it on thick. “Trust me, you have no idea how difficult that was for me. I know what a great kisser you are.”

She lost the battle with the smile. Her eyes lit up with it.

“Don’t let your pride talk you out of it. Do you know how many nice people offered me a bed when I was writing my first book?"

“I have no idea. I didn’t read it.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m sure you have a copy around here somewhere.”

“I’ll give you one.”

Her lips twisted.

“I’ll even sign it.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re arrogant?”

“Everyone.”

There was comfort in the shared silence between them. She finally nodded her head. “Okay. Thank you.”

Pride straightened his shoulders. “You’re welcome.”

“Sorry for?—”

“No, no, no, no, no. Do not apologize. Life has a way of handing you your own ass. Lucky for you, you have an incredibly nice ass.”

“I’m familiar with the process of being handed my incredibly nice ass. I am surprised that you can relate.”

“Everyone has problems. Some of us are better at hiding them than others.”

“I’m pretty good at it.”

“You could give me a few pointers.” He tucked his hands into his front pockets. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

“Me too.” She chewed on her cheek before shrugging. “I should finish up so that I can air the paint out of the room before I sleep in it tonight.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to offer his bed…and follow that with an offer of what he’d do to her while she was in it. No better way to shake off the twitch of melancholy than sex. It would be stress-relieving for both of them.

She squinted one eye at him in suspicion.

“I didn’t say anything.” He tried to look innocent.

“No, you didn’t.” On her way back to the guest room, he heard her say, “I’m impressed by your restraint.”

He smiled in her wake, his hands on his hips, his eyes on her ass. A spark of an idea came that, remarkably, had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with his book. Not quite a Eureka! moment, but enough to have him reaching for his laptop.

My muse.

Reagan ordered pizza for dinner so that she didn’t have to think about cooking.

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