Page 98 of Billion Dollar Dispute

“Fuck. You’re killing me,” I rasp, as my briefs hit the floor, leaving me standing completely naked. She has the audacity to smirk at me, but I’m the one who should be smiling.

“It’s my turn.” My fingers twitch as they touch her shirt buttons, loving the skin that's revealed. She’s so beautiful and about to be all mine. Her chest rises and falls rapidly with every button I pop, as if she’s nervous.

“Harvey,” she whispers.

“You have no idea how much I’ve fantasized about you.” I slide my hands under her shirt and slip it off her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor. It leaves her in a plain black bra, navy skirt, stockings, and pumps.

“It’s even better than I imagined,” I say, reaching for her skirt. “You’re incredible.” Slipping off her skirt, I leave her in just her stockings. I push them down, taking a moment to savor her sexy body. But her eyes look sad? And her fingers twist in front of her.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, lifting her face with my finger. She swallows hard, her hesitation bothering me. “What? Tell me,” I push.

“I’m not what you’re used to,” she breathes shakily.

I’m trying to understand where her confidence went. Did I say something wrong? But I come up empty. “What do you mean?”

Chapter 25

Jemima

“Why would you wantme?” I ask, as the reality of what and where we’re doing this sinks in. It’s not in a tearful plea… No, I haven’t cried since my ex fucked me over. I swore I wouldn’t let another man have that kind of power over me.

I look down at my loose bra and briefs, taking in my small frame, and whisper one of my fears about us. “I’m too old for you.”

His hands skim the backs of my thighs, and I try to push away the demon on my shoulder telling me that they hold no muscle tone. When he reaches my ass, I can’t help but think about how it doesn’t compare to women in their thirties… Mine is practically non-existent. Pancake ass? Yeah, that’s me. Plus, I wear full briefs, the kind that hide my ugly C-section scar. I swallow the bile rising in my throat, feeling humiliated.

“You’re not too old for me,” he says, his hands moving up to my waist to hold me gently.

I wrap my arms around myself. “I am. I’ve had a kid.”

“So fucking what?”

Pain hits my chest. “I don’t have a body like a twenty- or thirty-year-old.”

“I don’t want them.”

I snort. “You have no idea what’s underneath here.”

He stands in front of me, gliding his hands from my ass, up my lower back, skimming the sides of my breast, until they reach my neck. Using his thumbs to tilt my head up, he forces me to meet his gaze. I expect to see revulsion, but what I find scares the fuck out of me… Raw, burning desire. The intensity makes my knees buckle, and I nearly collapse.

“Are you doing this because you feel sorry for me?”

Or to get my company…?

He shakes his head so slowly. His breath tickles my face as he leans in to kiss the tip of my nose.

“I don’t feel sorry for you.”

I stare at him, waiting for this to be a prank.

“Why are you doing this, then?” I ask, wondering if I’m just another number in his book of girls he’s fucked.

“Because you drive me mad.”

“Well, that’s no reason to kiss me.”

“Who says I’m going to kiss you?”

My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

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