Page 49 of Sexting the Billionaire

I raise an eyebrow. "Friends with benefits, except we're not actually friends?"

"We could be," he says, sounding surprisingly earnest. "Friends, I mean. I find I very much enjoy talking to you."

"High praise from someone who probably charges by the minute for conversation," I quip, deflecting because his sincerity is somehow more disarming than his seduction.

He laughs, the sound warming something in my chest. "So what do you say, Cassie? Professional by day, something else by night? No strings, no expectations beyond mutual... enjoyment."

I should say no. Anyone with a functioning brain stem would say no. This has "disaster" written all over it in flashing neon letters.

"Exclusive," the word comes out before I can stop it. "Whatever this is, it's just us. I don't share, and I'm guessing you don't either."

His eyes darken. "Exclusive," he agrees, his voice dropping to that almost-growl that does ridiculous things to my insides.

"And the second it affects my work or reputation, or the company, it's over," I add firmly.

"Agreed." Roman rounds the counter, coming to stand in front of me. "Any other terms?"

"Just one," I say, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. "This can't be about power. Not in the bedroom. I need to know that space is equal, even if our professional relationship isn't."

Something shifts in his expression—surprise, followed by something deeper. "I can promise you that," he says softly. "What's between us privately has nothing to do with corporate hierarchy."

"Then we have a deal," I say, extending my hand like we've just negotiated a business contract rather than a clandestine affair.

Roman takes my hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulls me to my feet and into his arms.

"I think this calls for a more appropriate seal than a handshake," he murmurs, his lips hovering just above mine.

"Very unprofessional, Mr. Kade," I whisper against his mouth.

"Precisely the point, Ms. Monroe," he replies, before closing the distance between us.

What begins as a playful kiss quickly ignites into something more urgent.

My hands find their way into his hair as his slide beneath the shirt I'm wearing, retracing paths discovered last night.

He lifts me onto the counter with embarrassing ease, stepping between my legs as his mouth travels down my neck.

"We should probably stop," I gasp as his hands push the shirt up my thighs. "I have brunch with Olivia in an hour."

"Plenty of time," he murmurs against my collarbone.

Later, as I unlock the door to my apartment, I find myself smiling at the memory of Roman watching me leave from his doorway.

He’d insisted on waiting for my Uber to arrive.

"What's this for?" I'd asked, holding up the packaged toothbrush with amusement.

"In case you find yourself unexpectedly at my place again," he'd said with that hint of a smile that does unreasonable things to my cardiovascular system. "I like to be prepared."

"Pretty confident, aren't you?” I'd teased. “I think we should just keep it here…"

He'd stepped closer, his finger tracing my constellation tattoo in a gesture that felt oddly tender. "Not confident. Hopeful."

Then he'd kissed me—softly, lingering—before stepping back and transforming before my eyes into Roman Kade, CEO, his expression becoming the neutral mask the world knows.

"Have a good weekend, Ms. Monroe," he'd said. "I look forward to seeing the revised concepts on Monday."

I'd played along perfectly. "Of course, Mr. Kade. Thank you for the feedback.”

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