Page 34 of Dial B for Billionaire

This is madness. Complete insanity.

And yet I don't pull away.

His hand slides to my lower back, a possessive pressure that sends heat spiraling through me. My fingers find his shoulders—broad, solid, and exactly as I'd imagined.

We move like our bodies remember something our minds haven’t caught up to. His thigh brushes mine. His hand slides lower on my back. My fingers curl around his shoulders, drawn in without permission.

Everything else disappears—music, people, reason. There’s only the press of his body against mine, the way he watches me like I’m the only thing in the world worth knowing.

“What are you doing here?” I finally breathe into his ear.

“Watching you.”

“Why?”

His hand trails up my spine, and I shiver. “Because I can’t seem to stop.”

My chest tightens. His fingers graze the nape of my neck, threading through my hair, angling my face up toward his. His gaze drops to my mouth and stays there, like he's contemplating something. Like he's about to…Oh god.

He dips his head, lips grazing past mine to pause at my ear. The heat of his breath nearly makes me collapse with want.

“Did you give that guy the wrong number too?”

The words drop like a stone in my gut.

I freeze. A flush creeps up my neck. His expression doesn’t change, but the warmth between us vanishes like it was never there.

“I need some air.”

I slip from his arms and push through the crowd. He follows, of course he follows. When I reach the bar, I grab the edge like it might hold me upright. Bennett slides in beside me, close enough that his arm brushes mine.

“It was my mother's,” I blurt out, unable to bear the tension another second.

He blinks. “What?”

“The number. It wasn’t fake. I just… flipped two digits. I was nervous, and I gave you hers.”

His expression doesn't change, but something shifts behind his eyes. “Your mother.”

“Yes.”

The bartender appears before I can elaborate. “What can I get you?”

“Tequila,” I say. “A double. And I should probably drink some water too.”

“Macallan 25,” Bennett adds. He glances at me. “Also a double. On my tab.”

The bartender nods and disappears, leaving us in a strange pocket of stillness in the crowded bar.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes. No. I mean—it’s the truth. Our numbers are nearly identical. I had no idea until last night. My mom showed me the texts and it all clicked.”

He sips his newly delivered scotch, eyes never leaving mine. “Your mother showed you the texts?”

I pick up my tequila and down it on one gulp, needingthe burn to settle my nerves. “She thought you were a guy she met online. I didn’t even know it was you until I saw the photo.”

“And that’s when you figured it out.”

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