Page 281 of The Billionaires

As his back muscles defy gravity, they flex and harden—and the visage is so arousing I debate bolting to my room so that I can play my pink violin. Before I can do that, though, Leo barks.

Adrian finishes his pull-up and turns.

Oh, my. He looks even more ravishing from the front—and he’s totally, unequivocally beating me at my own game, a game he didn’t even know he was playing.

There are beads of sweat rolling down his torso that I want to lick, and if one wanted to study anatomy, his glistening muscles would be the perfect tool.

At the risk of sounding dull and unadventurous, Miss Miller would dare say this whole situation is the very definition of inappropriate.

“Hi,” Adrian says, and even his voice is extra yummy for some reason, husky and reminiscent of To’ak chocolate.

“Hello,” I reply, stumbling over all those syllables. “Was the weather nice on your way home from the picnic?”

“Yeah. It was nice and warm. I saw a couple of clouds. One was shaped like a Vitruvian man.” He scans me from head to foot. “Is this one of the Victorian outfits you mentioned?”

I nod.

He cocks his head. “They didn’t have anything like it on Bridgerton.”

Right, but they did have something like it on another show.

Harlots.

CHAPTER 28

ADRIAN

I don’t know what they call any of the clothing items Jane has on, but I want to rip each and every one of them into little shreds, then do to her exactly what she suggested a few hours ago.

But I can’t.

Shouldn’t.

I had good reasons when I declined, and if Yoda ever lets the blood return to my brain, I’m sure I’ll remember what those reasons were.

“Speaking of Bridgerton,” Jane says. “We should watch it later.”

I hope this means she isn’t mad at me any longer. Then again, she likes that show enough to watch it with Hitler. Either way, I agree. Then, very casually, I ask, “Will you still be wearing that outfit when we do?”

If so, I’d better pregame Yoda and take a cold shower, just in case.

Is that a smirk on Jane’s face when she considers my question?

Nah. That would make no sense.

Finally, she shakes her head. “This outfit is too starchy to walk in, let alone sit on a couch in.”

Thank the Force, Yoda will.

“I dressed this way because I wanted to make that extra million dollars,” Jane adds, sounding oddly guilty.

“You’ll get your money,” I reassure her. It will be well spent because it’s not every day you get a paradigm shift. Until this moment, I didn’t think Victorian women could possibly have been sexy. On top of being prim and prudish, they didn’t have showers and covered every inch of their bodies. Now, though, I wish Jane and I could do some roleplaying, with her as a lady and me a?—

“Okay,” Jane says. “Get back to your workout.”

With a shrug, I do, though I see in the mirror that she doesn’t leave—probably because she wants to know how to use all the equipment when it comes time for her to exercise. To that end, I know the polite thing would be to offer to work out together, but I don’t think I’ll manage that without a serious case of blue balls.

So I work my back as I usually would, then triceps, and just as I finish the last set, Jane sneaks out.

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