Page 9 of The Billionaires' Prize

“Promise?” I purr.Who even am I?

His lips quirk up into a panty-melting half-smile. Why is that so much hotter than a full grin?

“Promise.”

With a sigh, I step back and let my hands drop. I miss his warmth and support, but knowing that he still wants me will hold me over for now.

“I have to go back to the city,” he says, cocking his head as if to gauge my reaction.

There it is. Like when an elevator bottoms out and you feel twice as heavy as you did a moment before.

“Okay.” I mentally pat myself on the back for how steady my voice is when disappointment is slugging me in the stomach.

“I don’t want to,” he assures me in that soft, cajoling tone that melts me like butter.

“We have jobs. I get it.” Our responsibilities weren’t going to dissolve and leave us here to enjoy ourselves ‘til the end of time. “Besides, I have an apartment full of plants that need my attention.”

The half-smile is back, and, just like before, I tingle. Nips, tummy, clit, all are apparently connected to Alex’s sinful mouth.

Kingston’s animated voice grows louder. The floorboards creak in the hall as he and Gabe round the corner. Gabe stares at me, a long, thorough gaze that makes me squirm. Are my lips puffy from Alex’s kisses? Is my skin pink with whisker burn?

“Alex was telling me he needs to head back to the city,” I say to fill the silence.

Gabe’s hands go to his hips. “They wouldn’t reschedule?” he asks Alex, obviously in the know.

Who wouldn’t reschedule? What? But I don’t ask those questions.

Alex gives a single, decisive shake of his head and Gabe grunts.

Kingston stops wandering around the kitchen, his attention coming back to the conversation. I’ve missed his energy. His openness. Somehow, he manages to take life by the horns and roll with the punches at the same time.

“I should head back, too. Damage control and all that,” I say, but in my mind, I quickly amend: not back. Home.

“When do we leave?” Kingston asks.

“As soon as the chopper arrives.” Alex glances at his watch. “A little under an hour.”

It’s like the three of them have an entire conversation in their heads because, with hardly any conversation, Kingston darts out the front door with a wave. “Be right back.”

Then Alex disappears into the bedroom, saying something about packing.

Which leaves me and Gabe staring at each other.

“Well, that was a whirlwind,” I murmur, glancing around to see what needs tidying before we leave.

Gabe’s gaze is still heavy. I used to feel like he was picking me apart, but now I see that his mind works at a thousand miles an hour. He doesn’t filter himself or care as much about etiquette, which is both jarring and refreshing.

I suppose it was pretty self-centered to think he was watching me, looking for faults. Though, to be fair, his history with my grandfather didn’t make for an easy introduction. And it wasn’t until this weekend that he ever showed any sign of vulnerability. It’s good to know he’s human, after all.

But I rather like the real him—the sometimes aloof, sometimes funny, sometimes insecure, always thinking and learning and pondering man.

“I’m sorry if Kingston stuck his foot in his mouth.”

He shrugs. “Everyone’s got opinions.”

I nod. Tension swirls around us, and I swear I feel pulled in his direction by an invisible thread.

“And he was right. We were going to strip out all the character.” He glances across the kitchen to the breakfast nook.

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