Page 93 of The Billionaires' Prize

I step on the gas, maneuvering the vehicle with ease. Traffic’s blessedly light in this part of the city, but I have no doubt the vultures will be waiting for us.

“Someone saw the two of you, took a pic, and posted it to social media,” I say.

“At which point,” Gabe continues, half turning in his seat to look at her. “Some asshole with a drone?—”

“No!” The word is somewhere between a gasp and a choke.

Kingston grumbles, and I see a flash of a screen as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Katherine sucks in a sharp breath, and my attention swerves to her.

“Now is not the time, King,” she says, her voice sharper than I’ve heard in days.

“Time for—” Gabe chimes in, as clueless as I am.

“Sorry. I was closing the app,” King murmurs. Then explains, “I bought her a wireless vibe.”

Gabe’s head turns so quickly, he probably gave himself whiplash. “You’re wearing it?”

Katherine presses deeper into her seat, a little moan bubbling up her throat.

“You okay, Katie Bird?”

I brake for a stoplight and glance at her in the rearview mirror. She nods, but clearly, it’s on right now, teasing her.

“Give me that thing,” she grinds out, reaching for King’s phone.

“Don’t turn it off,” Gabe says, and her hand falls back.

“What?” She sounds breathless and incredulous, probably the sexiest combination I’ve ever heard. Like she can’t quite believe her ears and is both cursing and blessing him.

Fuck. Green light. I need to pay attention to the road, not the gorgeous woman writhing in my backseat.

“Can I see that?” Gabe asks, hand stretched toward King.

“Don’t you dare. You promised.”

“Wildfire, I promised not to use it on you while we were in the car with Roman?—”

The mention of my employee pulls a snarl from my chest. “Damn straight.”

She slumps lower in the seat, a low moan filling the cab. Fuck, she makes me hard. My hands flex into the supple leather of the steering wheel.

“Is this what you were up to on that roof?” I ask.

“Kingston!” It’s like it just occurred to her that we were in the middle of a conversation. That there are new pictures of her on the internet. And apparently, she’s wearing a vibrator.

“Don’t worry, Princess. The drone didn’t catch your faces.”

“What—” She presses her head back against the seat. “Oh god. Show me.”

“I was trying to—” King says.

“Don’t stop,” Katherine whimpers.

“Here.” Gabe pulls out his own phone, navigates to the picture, and hands it back.

“Take this,” Kingston says, handing over his phone. “She likes it when you increase the purple meter.”

We hit another freaking red light, and I glance in the rearview mirror to see Roman on our bumper. There’s no sign of the paps, but who knows when they’ll pop up again. Like roaches. For all I know, the drone could be overhead right now, breaking who knows how many laws.

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