Page 16 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“Coffee?” he asks, already turning toward the door.

“Sure.” I follow, trying not to gawk at the rest of his apartment as we pass through a sleek living area with the same floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the city is breathtaking: tall buildings, tiny people, the whole “king looking down on his peasants” vibe. It’s intimidating and beautiful at the same time, much like the man leading me.

The kitchen is all marble and stainless steel, very minimalist. Gideon moves to an expensive-looking coffee machine and presses a few buttons.

The coffee is ready faster than I expect, and I take a sip, surprised to find it’s exactly how I like it. You know, strong with just a touch of cream, no sugar. I can’t remember if I told him that last night.

“Your dress and underwear should be done by now,” he says. “I’ll get them.”

As he walks away, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. This whole morning feels surreal. Me in a billionaire’s penthouse, wearing nothing but his shirt, drinking coffee after a night of the kind of mind-blowing sex most women only dream about.

Too bad he’s acting so cold.

Gideon returns with my clothes, neatly folded. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I take them, our fingers brushing. The contact sends a jolt through me that I desperately try to ignore. “Is there somewhere I can...?”

“Guest bathroom’s through there.” He nods toward a door off the kitchen.

I get up, but Gideon suddenly steps closer, his eyes darkening as they roam over me. “You know, I was thinking about you all night.”

The sudden shift catches me off guard. “But... I thought...”

Ten seconds ago he was practically carving ice sculptures with his eyes, and now he’s looking at me like I’m a feast and he’s starving?

His voice drops lower. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. This is definitely not what I expected. “I thought you were in a hurry to get meout of here.”

“Did I say that?” He moves closer still. “I merely said your clothes were ready. The interpretation was all yours.”

I swallow hard. “You’ve been cold to me all morning.”

“Have I?” His fingers brush my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Perhaps I’m just processing.”

“Processing what exactly?”

Instead of answering, he cups my face, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “How good you felt. How responsive you were to my touch.” His eyes hold mine. “How much I want you again.”

My brain short-circuits. This man is infuriating. First cold, now hot again? But my body doesn’t seem to care about the mixed signals. It remembers last night all too well.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “You’re all dressed up...”

“Work can wait.” His lips are inches from mine now. “This can’t.”

And then he’s kissing me, his mouth hungry and demanding. Any thoughts of leaving vanish as his hands slide down my back, pulling me against him. He tastes like expensive coffee and bad decisions, and I’m addicted to both.

He breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged. “Come with me.”

I should be running for the hills, but apparently my body’s currently giving a TED talk titled “Why Smart Women Make Dumb Choices When Hot Billionaires Are Involved.”

Carrying my folded dress and underwear, I obediently follow him through the apartment, not to thebedroom as I expect, but to what appears to be a home office. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line one wall. The opposite wall features more windows with that stunning view, and in front of them sits a massive glass desk covered with blueprints.

Gideon turns to me, his eyes dark with intent. “I want you right here.”

“On your... desk?” I glance at the blueprints. “What about your work?”

Is this really happening? Gideon King is going to take meagain, on his work desk?

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