Page 27 of The Billionaires' Prize

“Can’t wait to do that again.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

He presses a kiss into my hair and laces his fingers with mine. This is the perfect lazy Sunday afternoon. I could get used to it. Except there’s something missing. Someone. Or rather, two someones?

The haze of my orgasm blots out the errant thoughts. “Thought you were going to your place,” I murmur.

I squeeze his fingers and tangle my legs with his. He reaches over our heads and grabs the blanket, draping it over us, then reaches for my hand again.

“Doesn’t seem so important right now.”

He sounds sleepy, and I wish I could see his face.

Who would have thought Gabriel Rothburn was a snuggler? I sure didn’t, but I’ll happily fall asleep in his arms.

9

KINGSTON

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Why do I keep finding these two wrapped around each other like salt on a pretzel?

It sucks to be claustrophobic in Manhattan. Every elevator ride makes me sweat, and now this.

Katherine blinks up at me, a little crease from the pillow etched across her cheek. Her hair is wild, sticking up like a lion’s mane. Gabe is slower to rouse.

She doesn’t seem the least bit embarrassed, which is surprising. Where did my best friend go?

Not that nudity is a reason to be embarrassed. Or a good post-orgasm glow, which she definitely has.

She’s never looked prettier.

Blissed out. Well rested. Confident in her own skin.

She pushes up onto her elbow, tugging the blanket around her chest. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to get a watch,” I tease, trying to ignore the man with his arm wrapped around my girl.

More importantly, I try to ignore his naked chest and how cute he is when he’s sleep-tousled.

“Mom asked when you can come over for dinner,” I say. Maybe if I act like this situation is normal, it’ll feel normal. Here’s hoping.

With grocery bags weighing down my arms, I head for the kitchen. This part feels like a typical weekend with Katherine—easy, casual, domestic. Exactly what I wanted when I stepped onto the plane days ago.

As I’m putting everything away, she sidles into the kitchen. She put her sweatshirt and leggings on again, denying me the view I really wanted, and holds a pair of sneakers. I shut the refrigerator door and give her a long look. Her feet are bare, which I’m a total sucker for. The woman has the sexiest feet, and I’ve given her foot rubs just so I can get my hands on them.

Mentally shaking that image out of my head, I reach for the armful of veggies and open the fridge door again.

“You went shopping,” she muses, pressing against my side like there’s been no time, distance, or awkwardness between us. Like I didn’t sweep back into her life unannounced and kiss her in front of her lovers. And her brother.

My heart does a happy dance in my chest. Fuck, she’s so close. So warm and real andright-freaking-there.

“Just a few necessities.” With as much effort as I put into my body, in the gym and out, it pays to eat right.

She raises up on her toes and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”

There’s a load of meaning in those softly spoken words, but I don’t ask for clarification. Not now. I need to see if I can do this. If we can do this. If the itch to leave is going to be stronger than my desire for her.

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