Page 42 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

He frowned, his eyes visibly strugglingto focus. “What’s not working?”

“The mint. It’s notworking.” I sniffed the air and wrinkled my nose. “Or your cologne.Who wears cologne anymore?”

“People who are sweaty andgross and don’t have time for a shower before a hot girl shows up,”he stated unapologetically. “And I was partying prettyhard.”

“I can smell that. But it’snot a very wild bachelor party if it wrapped up by three.” Iwandered into the living room, which was far too clean to havehosted a party, even for my boring brother. I wondered where they’dbeen and what they’d done.

Then I remembered it wasn’tmy business what Matt did or where he went, and I should make it apolicy to remember that for what little was left of theweekend.

“I know it wasn’t a verywild bachelor party, since it was for my brother,” Ijoked.

“Oh, itgot wild,” Matt corrected me. “You’ve clearly neverplayedCall ofDuty.”

“You’re right. I haven’t.” Ileaned against the back of the couch, my hands braced on the top.“It was a geeky computer party, then. No prurientthrills.”

“If you don’t get a sexualthrill out of killing Nazis, are you even alive?” Hecountered.

Okay, that was a good point.

“Look, if I smell so bad,there’s only one thing for it,” Matt went on.

I arched a brow. “Showersex?”

It wasn’t a hot and sexysuggestion. It was a hot andsweatysuggestion. The climate in South Carolina wasridiculous and it had done neither of us a favor in the body odordepartment. If not the shower, I would have certainly recommendedthe pool.

He was still drunk enough to thinkmaking finger guns was a good response.

“I’m giving you a headstart,” I warned, wrinkling my nose. “Get in there. And brush yourteeth first thing.”

He gave me a wobbly salute andstaggered off to the master bathroom. I followed him, listening tothe clattering and swearing as he tried to do… whatever it was hewas doing in the bathroom. If I heard any noises of pain, I’dinvestigate.

In the meantime, having a little pokearound his bedroom probably wasn’t ethical, but I couldn’t helpmyself. I had to know how a billionaire lived. Or, at least,vacationed.

I wandered over to the enormous bed andchecked out what he had on the nightstand. A couple of pillbottles, which I ignored—there was a limit to my spying—and aKindle on a charger. So, he was a reader. I picked it up and openedthe cover, and the screen came to life. I tapped my way into thelibrary. Mostly fantasy novels, with some non-fiction abouthistory.

Now, I understood why he and my brotherwere such close friends. Matt was a giant nerd.

I put the Kindle back and wandered tothe armoire, to see if he was the kind of person who took out theirclothes and put them away in a hotel room. Other than a hanginggarment bag, he must have been living out of his suitcase. I likedthat.

I liked a lot about him.It’s why I’d gotten out of bed and come over in the first place.Not that I’d been asleep. I’d been frustratingly awake, wishing Iwas fucking Matt instead of watching mobsters kill each other.Forcing myself not to answer his call on the first ring had takenserious willpower, and there was only so much to go around. I’dbeen fighting my crush since about ten minutes after we met, and Iwas losing the battle.

I had no illusions about what washappening between us. Weekend fling. That was all. And if I triedto picture us becoming something more, it never looked quite rightin my head. But something intense was going on in my heart that Ineeded to keep an eye on if I didn’t want to spend a few daysmoping around my house as I came down from this high.

The shower turned on and Ilooked toward the sound. Matt’s towering height and impossiblybroad shoulders filled the door frame. The body made up for thegeekery in a big way. So did his smile. I could forgive all mannerof endearingly embarrassing traits when he turned that huge, brightsmile on me.

“I’ve brushed my teeth,” hesaid, motioning over his shoulder. “You should probably come fuckme now.”

“Good idea.” I stripped offmy shirt as I walked and popped off my sandals at the bathroomdoor. Matt went ahead and got in. The shower took up the end of thebathroom, partitioned off by a glass wall and tiled with safeshades of brown and a pebble-textured floor. The jacuzzi tubsnagged my attention, reminding me of the night we’d spent drinkingand talking about nothing.

I shimmied out of my jeans and pantiesand got into the shower, standing back as he ducked under therainfall head. The water ran down the trenches of muscle definitionin his back and I had to withhold a moan of appreciation. How wasthis guy even real?

I walked over and stood behind him,putting my arms around his waist and leaning my cheek against hisback, letting the water cascade over me. He put one hand over bothmy wrists and gave them a squeeze, then turned.

His big brown eyes searchedmy face as he gazed down at me. I was sure I didn’t look my best;my hair was only half-wet, my mascara was sure to be running, and Ihad to blink rapidly against the spray splashing my face. But fromhis expression, he wasn’t seeing any of that.

And he lowered his head to kissme.

I hadn’t let him before.There was something too intimate about kissing that made ituncomfortable and unenjoyable, most of the time. But in that splitsecond, as I licked my already wet lip in anticipation of histouch, I wanted to kiss him.

---