Page 56 of Marrying the Billionaire

My hand stops. “What do you mean?”

He’s quiet again for a moment before he responds. “I feel like the script keeps flipping and I don’t know how to keep up. There’s suddenly all this change and I’m- God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“You can talk to me.”

It takes him a little bit to continue. “I’m not ahead of things like I usually am. I’m just reacting.”

For a man in his position, that has to be discomfiting. “It’s okay not to have everything figured out all the time. Remember how I said we would have to wing it?”

“Yeah, and I didn’t like it then either.”

I smile, glad he can’t see me. “I think you’re doing great. Things have changed a lot for both of us.”

“You seem better at adapting than I am.”

I shrug, not that he can tell in the dark. “This seems to be coming easier to me compared to other situations I’ve been in.” Because it’s a wanted change. I’ve ignored my fair share of circumstances in the past, hoping things would magically resolve themselves. Sometimes it worked.

And sometimes it didn’t.

“Do you want to tell me about your mom?”

I sigh, returning my hand to my side. It was only a matter of time before he brought that up. Not that I blame him after the way I acted at the auction. “A question for a question?”

“Okay.”

How to even start with her? There’s a reason I don’t think about Jacqueline Cushing if I can help it.

I tuck my hands under my chin, fiddling with the edge of my pillowcase. “I was a fun accessory for her when I was little,” I tell him, just getting it out there. “But then I actually started, you know, growing. Having my own thoughts and opinions. And then I wasn’t as fun anymore.” I smooth a hand over the sheets, luxuriating in the softness. These must be like a million thread count or something. “She met this other guy, my parents divorced, she didn’t ask for custody, and that’s the end. I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

“So your dad raised you?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t sayraised. He provided for me. He did what he could. But he was busy.”

“I know what that’s like.”

“I’m guessing your dad was busy too?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“What about your mom?”

He’s silent for so long I almost think he didn’t hear me until he answers, “She was nothing like him.” He turns over, voice distant now. “Goodnight, Serena.”

Are we done then? “Oh, um, goodnight.”

I turn over too, only an arm’s length away from him, and yet, it’s a distance I can’t quite seem to cross.

I snugglefurther into the warmth at my back, my bottom encountering something hard. Mmm, that feels good. So does the tight hold around my chest, the soft breath at the back of my neck-

Wait. Breath at my neck?

I keep as still as possible as I open my eyes, not that I can see anything in the pitch blackness. I’m in Archer’s room. In his bed. With him. And he’s draped around me, my own personal furnace, his arm slung across my torso, curling me into his hard body. Knowing him, I can’t imagine he consciously positioned himself like this, but I revel in it all the same.

I finally register the gentle beeping that woke me, assuming it’s his alarm clock, and as it continues, it gradually increases in volume until he stirs. I stifle a groan as he moves against me, his cock nudging my ass.

His arm leaves me as he reaches behind him to shut it off, but soon returns, pulling me even tighter to him. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. “Like flowers.”

My mouth drops. Is he sleep talking or something?

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