Page 52 of Billion Dollar Revenge

As I’m in my head, debating what to do, she links her arm through mine.

I tilt my head, and she peeks up at me at the same time. We continue walking, but her face is tight with discomfort. I can’t help but wonder if those high heels are killing her feet.

I squat down and say, “Jump on my back. I’ll carry you.”

She falters, eyes wide. “You’re going to give me a piggyback ride.”

“Yeah, why not?”

“That's what a real boyfriend would do,” she teases.

I grin. “Exactly. Come on.”

She hesitates for just a moment before climbing on, linking her arms around my neck and resting her body against my back. Her warmth seeps into me as I straighten up, and I can feel her relaxing slightly. I walk slowly, feeling her hot breath on my neck, and we continue this way until we arrive at our building. Once I stop, she slides down, I try to ignore that I know she's not wearing a bra and that I could feel her erect nipples as she slipped down my back.

Her hands shake as she opens the door to her studio. Inside, she turns on the lights, which sets an elegant dim glow over the entire room.

Shrugging off my jacket, I sit down on the floor. She tracks my movements with her eyes, and when our gazes meet, she quickly shifts her focus to her phone, clearly aware that I caught her checking me out.

I sit back and watch, her eyebrows pulled together as she’s deep in thought. She lifts her head as she sits down opposite me. “Do you eat Thai?”

“I’ll eat anything,” I answer, leaning back on my elbows, my eyes focused on her.

She orders our food, and while we wait, she shows me Pilates sitting boxes that she needs to order.

“What do you do with those?”

She grins and shifts into a seated position, hands behind her, chest pushed up, knees tucked. Her body looks amazing in that tight dress. I shift to get comfortable and try not to imagine her naked in those positions, but I can’t help it.All the things I could do to her…

“I’m not flexible enough for that,” I rasp, failing miserably to hide my thoughts.

She rolls her eyes. “Which is code for ‘I’m scared I’ll pull something.’”

My mouth twitches with how spot-on she is.

Her phone chimes, which means the food’s here.

“I’ll be back,” she says, reaching for her purse.

“No. I’ve got it.” I stand and head outside, grab the food, and come back up. As I enter, I take a moment to admire how delicate she looks tonight, lost in thought as she gazes out the windows.

She catches my eye, and it causes the corner of my lips to lift.

“Are you feeling better now?” I ask, sitting back down on the floor. I need to know how she really feels. Bobby said some fucked-up shit to her.

She nods and walks over to join me on the floor. “I’m happy you're here.”

I can read between the lines. I’m taking her mind off things. “You know I understand what you’re feeling. You don’t need to be a martyr.”

“I know, but I don’t want a pity party.” She sighs as if she can relax again.

I remember when I was in her shoes. “But if you had left…”

“I’d be replaying his words. Feeling worse than I do right now.”

“He doesn’t deserve any space in your pretty head.”

Her eyebrows squish together. “What do you mean?”

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