Page 81 of The Billionaires

“Ah.” I feel a pang of disappointment. We didn’t really get a chance to interact today.

Juno nods at the door and whispers, “I’d bet my cactus they’re watching us.”

My heart skips a beat. Is she saying what I think she’s saying? I decide that I’m going to assume so regardless.

“Well then.” I put my hand on her lower back and dip my head. “Should we keep up appearances?”

She rises onto her tiptoes, her honey eyes gleaming. “Afraid so.” Her warm breath whispers across my lips. “Can’t let all those rehearsals go to waste.”

My heart pounds faster. Not needing any more encouragement, I slant my lips over hers. It’s a playful kiss at first, but quickly, our tongues are dancing in earnest. Her lips are deliciously plump and damp, and my whole body goes stiff—some parts much more than others.

Fuck. Did she just brush her small hand over my cock?

Breathing raggedly, I pull away. “I thought your family was watching.”

She blinks rapidly, like she’s trying to reorient herself. Finally, she whispers, “Serves them right for being Peeping Toms.”

I’m suddenly very glad she didn’t accept my offer of a limo ride home. If we spend another second together, I’m not sure I’ll keep my sanity.

“See you at Gram’s house?” I ask hoarsely. “Unless?—”

“Yeah.” She steps back and dampens her lips. “What should I bring?”

Those plump, soft lips. Fucking hell. I do my best to sound normal. “Nothing. But definitely not any leftovers.”

She grins. “You sure? I bet Gram is a fan of paella.”

I shudder as I recall the taste. “Let’s not make my chefs feel like their jobs aren’t secure.”

“Chefs, as in plural?”

“I have three. Not counting the ones who work in my restaurants.”

She rolls her eyes. “I hope three is enough. I mean, what if all of them got sick at the same time? You’d starve.”

“Actually, Elijah’s cooking is serviceable. Same goes for all but one of my housekeepers. And in a pinch, I do know how to make mac-and-cheese or an omelet.”

“Wow. With those critical life skills, you could even survive on a deserted island.”

Why do I want to kiss her again? Probably to shut her up.

“When should I send a limo after you tomorrow?” I ask.

“I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” Why am I so reluctant to leave? “Bye?”

She hesitates for a second, then blows me an air kiss before escaping into her parents’ home.

As soon as I get home, I take care of my sexual frustration, and the session is a lot more vigorous than all the Florida post-phone-call ones.

I then take a shower, go for a run, and visit my ferrets.

The collective noun for ferrets is a ‘business,’ and I think whoever came up with that did so because there’s always some funny business going on when it comes to ferrets, especially if there’s more than one in your vicinity.

Today, for example, Caligula manages to devour the special treats I brought for everyone before Blackbeard and Malfoy so much as get a taste. I also locate the gardening gloves one or more of them managed to steal—and they’re in shreds.

As I play with the little devils, I fight the urge to call Juno. After all, we’ve only been apart for three hours. Even if our relationship were real, it would be too soon to miss her. Unless… Maybe I should?—

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