Page 28 of Billion Dollar Dispute

I must have said something right because she exhales heavily and says, “Fine. Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

“What do you think this is, a pharmacy?”

“No, but you know…”

“You think I’m a manwhore.”

“Aren’t you?” She raises an eyebrow.

I shake my head, disappointment filling me. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have a spare toothbrush. You're welcome to use mine.”

Her face scrunches. “That’s gross.”

I shrug. “Whatever, buttercup, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Wait…” she starts to say, and I turn, curiosity settling in.

“Can I maybe have some clean clothes?”

“I don’t have a women's department store here, but you can take my clothes,” I offer, moving to my wardrobe and pulling out a t-shirt and some sweatpants. “This is all I have.”

She gives me a small smile. I leave the room, allowing her to freshen up in peace. There's water and crackers by the bed, so if she wants them before breakfast, she can have them.

Moments later, I hear the shower. It’s strange having an attractive woman in my penthouse showering. She’s the first but, surprisingly, I don’t hate it. As she’s showering, I can’t help but imagine her using my soap to wash herself, picturing what her body looks like without her dress.

I’m going to blame it on the fact her hand was on my cock this morning.

A little while later, I’m dishing up bacon, eggs, toast, and potatoes. I eye her up and down as she crosses into the kitchen and almost choke on my tongue. She’s in my T-shirt and nothing else, though to be fair, the T-shirt settles at the top of her knees.

I shake my head, trying to focus.

“Hey,” I say casually, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Feeling hungry?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Did you want to sit at the dining table or here?” I gesture to the large marble island with stools where the morning light comes through the blinds.

“Here is fine. I won’t hold you up much longer.”

“It’s fine, really.” I lower a plate in front of her, the food neatly arranged, steam rising from the hot plate.

“Thanks. I have to get home anyway.”

“The doctor is on his way. Once he’s seen you, I can take you home.”

She doesn't pick up her silverware, pausing instead. Her fingers brush the edge of the plate but don’t lift it. “I don’t need a doctor.”

“Yes, you do. You fainted last night.”

She drops her gaze to the floor and murmurs, “I can’t afford one.”

“It’s my doctor and I’ll pay.”

I can practically see the steam coming from her ears.

“You can’t throw money at everything.”

“It helps.” I try to lighten the mood, but I see the flicker of frustration in her eyes.

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