Page 75 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“How do you know I don’twant to ravish you in my bed?” he asked with an archedbrow.

“Because that would beboring and predictable,” I countered. “And because you promised medinner.”

Not any dinner. Dinner in pjs, watchingTV, exactly what he knew I needed after a long day of traveling andeverything that had happened when I arrived.

“Okay. See you out there.”He walked carefully, slowly, one hand braced on the wall as hewent, and I looked away because despite how he tried to play itoff, I knew he was self-conscious.

I snatched up aspaghetti-strap chemise that came to mid-thigh but was slit to bothhips, and a plush robe with fleece lining. They were both ivory,like the rest of the options.

I padded across the smooth,cool tile to the living room, tying the belt of my robe. “I likethat you figured me into the color scheme.”

Matthew’s private villa wasdecorated in neutral browns and warm whites, punctuated by pops ofvibrant color from flowering plants tucked into decorative nooksall over the place. He sat on the sofa in a blue T-shirt and plaidlounge pants.

“Although you clash,somewhat,” I pointed out.

“I’ve got more ratty stuff,if you want to wear it,” he offered, patting the cushion besidehim.

I sat next to him andcurled my legs up, resting my head on his shoulder. I’d neverrealized how important touch was to me until we were togetheragain. All the phone sex had been fun, but it had been building ahunger for closeness in me. There was a real possibility that Iwould spend the next two weeks hanging off him like a babymonkey.

“Pizza is on the way,” hesaid, looping an arm around my waist and dropping a kiss on the topof my head. “How was the trip?”

“Long.” I felt it in everypart of my body, now that my momentum had slowed. “Although I wassurprised. First class? Not a whole private jet?”

“Carbon footprint,” he saidwith a chuckle. “I don’t do the jet thing. Except after my surgery,but that wasn’t my jet. It belonged to my mom.”

“I thought billionaireswere going to wreck the planet and head off into space,” Iteased.

“Sadly, I’m one of thesensible ones who realized that there’s no place for my dick-shapedrocket to land.” He turned toward the sound of the doorbell. “Ah,they’re here.”

“I’ll get it.” I bounded tomy feet before he had to and skipped over to the door. Outside, twouniformed resort staff members waited with a swanky mahogany roomservice cart bearing a comically large pizza box and a variety ofsodas.

“Push it in here, thanks,”Matt called, and I held the door while the staff brought the cartin. They left swiftly; this was clearly a place where guests didn’twaste a lot of time on service aspects.

I grabbed the pizza and acan of Diet Coke for myself, calling, “What do you want todrink?”

“Something orange,” hecalled back. When I headed his way with an Orange Crush in thepocket of my robe, he grumbled, “I could have gotten thedoor.”

“And I could have swumhere, but luckily there was a boat.” I jutted my hip toward him andhe reached into my robe pocket for his soda before I sat down anddropped the pizza box on the large, square coffee table. “You gotattacked by a bear and your own veins. Give yourself a tiny bit ofgrace.”

“You’re not disgusted byyour geriatric fuck buddy?”

It was a half-joke.

I answered it with a fullone. “That dick ain’t geriatric.”

A shocked laugh burst fromhim.

Please, like you didn’tknow I was quick. “No more self-pity. Noton my time.”

“Your time?” He raised aneyebrow. “You’re here for my birthday.”

“Yeah. Your fortieth. Notyour seventieth.” I leaned forward and popped open the pizza box.“Shit, I forgot the plates.”

Like I ever used plates for pizza. LikeI ever shared pizza.

Matt grabbed the box andpulled it onto his lap. “Let’s not pretend there are going to beleftovers. Not after the energy we expended today.”

“Um, I have been awake forlike twenty hours now, jumping from plane to plane to yacht to boatto the orgasm denial massage parlor—”

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