Page 39 of The Billionaires' Prize

Damn, if her eyes don’t sparkle like he hung the moon and all the fucking stars.

The tension is thick, like two lovers who are counting the minutes until they can get away again.

They did it.

That’s why King looks like a cat who chomped a canary and she has that post orgasm glow.

Her hair’s damp, her skin flushed, and her lips curve up into a spectacular grin. It’s the sort of smile two people on the inside of a joke share.

I want that.

The intimacy. That kind of connection with someone. The history.

But an alarm goes off in the back of my mind, reminding me that love comes with costs. And sometimes, the price tag is super steep.

Katherine giggles, then focuses on the box in her hands, fingernail skimming the cardboard. “Well, I don’t know what it says, but I can’t wait to try it.”

She disappears for a few moments and comes back empty-handed. Kingston’s still leaning against the back of the low sofa as she leans down, wrapping an arm around him from behind and giving a little squeeze.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome,” he replies.

I push my dark thoughts away and finish my pizza crust just as Gabe jumps up, cheering.

“What happened?” Suddenly, Kingston’s attention is back on the game and Gabe.

Katherine isn’t phased. She straightens, giving a little eye roll. “Anyone need anything?”

She turns to me, holding my gaze, and my abs tighten as if she were physically hiking her fingers down them. I’m lost inher. The blue-green gems of her eyes. The way she stays locked in the moment with me, unhurried.

You.

I mouth the word.

I need her.

The corners of her dewy pink lips curve up.

Gabe and Kingston argue with the TV and each other, not even noticing the goddess rounding the couch. My chest loosens when she settles next to me, her thigh brushing mine.

I can breathe again.

Gah, I want to pull her into my lap and touch her all over. Slide my fingers beneath the delicate pink fabric of her loungewear and feel her skin. I bet she’s extra warm from her shower. Slick.

Her shoulder knocks against mine gently. “Missed you. How’d your meeting go?”

I lean forward to put my plate and bottle down, then drape my arm over her shoulders, pulling her against me.

“Could have been better,” I admit.

“Oh?” She presses a hand over my stomach, burrowing close. Her chin tips up and she searches my face, and that’s when I realize she’s not asking out of politeness.

She cares.

Outside of my family and Gabe, I’m not sure I’ve ever had that. Certainly never felt like this before. I want to tell her everything. Share secrets. Which is crazy. Part of my job is keeping secrets.

“There’s salad, too,” Kingston says, eyes glued to the fight breaking out on the ice. He nudges a bowl across the coffee table at us.

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