Page 50 of The Billionaire Experience

Sobering from her laughter, she took another sip from her water bottle. “Thank you for letting me stay. I’ve felt particularly unmoored lately. You gave me a home base. You can dock my pay for it.”

“Muse work is serious business. Room and board is an even trade.”

“I’m assuming if I argue with you…”

“You’ll get nowhere. Besides”—he lifted the final slice of pizza and spoke around a bite—“you’re doing me a huge favor. I’m not easy to live with.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d been cooking her meals, flirting shamelessly, and offering to solve her problems. He seemed like he’d be a dream to live with. “I appreciate it. I never want to take advantage of you.”

The slow spread of his smile packed so much sexual suggestion that she had to avert her eyes.

“This house has solid bones,” she said, changing the subject. “Thank you for not knocking it down.”

He blinked, but the smile stayed. “Ever been to Madrid?”

“No.”

“The buildings there are hundreds of years old, and they are crazy beautiful. Could you imagine if they’d knocked down all that history to rebuild contemporary structures on top of the rubble? This house is more than solid bones. It has history. History you were part of—are part of—and that’s important.”

That hit her right in the feels. Suddenly she was too far away. She erased the space between them, scooting from her corner of the sofa to meet him in the middle. He tossed his napkin aside, his eyes on hers expectantly.

“Do you want to—?” she started.

“Yes. Hell, yes. A million times yes.” Firm hands gripped her upper arms, his muscles coiled as if he was ready to strike.

“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s what I’ve been thinking about all damn day.”

“Hanging the television on the wall?”

He lashed an arm around her waist and rumbled, “Try again.”

“I can’t think of anything else we could do,” she lied, her fingers curling into the fabric of his T-shirt.

“Tell me the truth, Reagan.” They were chest to chest, the low reverberation of his voice causing her nipples to peak. “You want me as bad as I want you, don’t you?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Yes.”

The second the word left her lips, Brody covered her mouth with his. It wasn’t hesitant or gentle, but neither did he rush. He was as slow and intentional as he had been when he’d first kissed her. But the eagerness of his body was impossible to miss.

His arms banded around her, tight. He tasted like spices from the pizza and smelled of piney soap. It was a heady combination.

With her eyes closed, she was overwhelmed by his unique flavor and the way he held her—firmly, almost possessively. After feeling unwanted for months in her last relationship, possessive was working for her.

His tongue tangled with hers, stroking gently. He speared one hand up into her hair, sending shivers down both her arms. She groaned in the back of her throat when the roughness from his facial hair abraded her lips. One word pounded in her skull: Alive.

She felt alive in Brody’s arms. And tonight, she didn’t have to leave. Her bedroom was down the hall…if they made it that far.

He pulled his mouth from hers to suck in a breath, his eyelids heavy and his mouth half open. “Goddamn.”

He’d said that the first time he kissed her too.

“Sorry for not having any other words.”

“A speechless writer. I’ve seen it all.” She looped her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his. “It’s okay. I don’t want to talk.”

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