Page 70 of Billion Dollar Dispute

Stepping closer, she asks, “Like this?” Her fingers graze my scalp, sending shivers through me. She gives a slight tug on my hair before she lets it go, and it drives me wild.

“Exactly like that,” I rasp. “Don’t stop.”

“And he begs.”

Willing to do anything for her touch, a grin pulls at my lips. Now that she’s more open to flirting with me, I’m hopeful to where this may lead. “I’d give you anything just to have your hands on me again, Jemima.”

Her eyes widen, lashes fluttering as she struggles to maintain composure. I decide not to call her out on it, not wanting to scare her away.

My eyes drop to her lips, parted and panting. When she runs her tongue over her bottom lip, I groan.

“We shouldn’t,” she says, gently pushing me back. “I’m working.”

Her warning should remind me of my goal, but it's only a kiss. “I know, but I want you,” I murmur, my hands finding her waist as I pull her back toward me.

Her eyes close as if she’s in pain.

I close the distance between us, cupping her face with both hands. As I lean in, she tilts her head back, her lips just a whisper away from mine. Her breath warms my skin, and when our mouths finally meet, the touch is electric.

“I seem to be the king of walking in at the worst times,” Oliver announces.

Sucking in a breath, she steps back and moves around me. I close my eyes, trying to cool my body and temper.

“You're not interrupting anything,” she says, clearing her throat.

I wring my hands, keeping silent.

Turning around, I see Oliver’s amused face. “Seems I did.”

“That was my most successful party ever,” Oliver gushes.

Jemima laughs. “Don’t suck up to me, Oliver.”

“I’m not.”

“Is there anything she could improve on?” I ask, knowing she needs constructive criticism to grow.

Oliver pulls out his phone and shows us the screen. We lean in together, and my nostrils flare as I inhale her perfume, mybody instantly igniting with recognition and need. Messages of congratulations, praise for the band and DJ, comments about the photo booth fun, and the art. Literally everything. There are even requests for her contact details. I pull back and notice her eyes are misty.

Seeing how much this means to her hits me hard. But I don’t want her to get false hope. Businesses aren’t always sunshine and rainbows. I need to be practical and not get lost in how captivating her eyes are under the dim lights, or how the strands of hair that has fallen makes me want to reach out and touch them.

“There has to be something negative,” I say.

“Liam sent me a text saying you were getting too involved,” Oliver responds, his tone slightly apprehensive, caught off guard that I would say something like that. He studies me, trying to gauge his reaction.

My body stiffens. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nah, look.” Oliver taps his phone until I’m reading a message saying my involvement could ruin her business.

“He’s a jerk. Don’t worry about him,” Oliver says.

“You could have messaged him back and told him to fuck off,” I reply angrily.

“Don’t let him get to you.”

“I can’t help it.”

He’s already deep inside my head, messing with me. I’m not usually the jealous type. Well, I wasn’t, but with him hitting on Jemima, it’s brought out a side of me I’ve never seen and don’t know how to handle.

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