Page 60 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“She keeps asking because she doesn’t understand why he says he doesn’t remember when she’s quite sure that he does.” I do the rest as a stage whisper. “It drives her a little bit crazy.”

“What you overlook entirely, however, is the fact that he likely has good reasons,” Benny says.

“The fact that you used ‘entirely’ and ‘however’ in the same sentence so makes me want to kiss you,” I say.

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Wouldn’t you?” I ask, grinning. The more wolf-nerdy he talks and acts, the more I want to kiss him. “Would you entirely not advise it? Would it vex you?”

He glares sullenly ahead, as though he’s enduring the unendurable. His eyebrows are slashes of brown over his tan glasses, which have tiny pale striations in the rims.

I slide a hand on up onto his lapel. “I won’t give up on you, Benny.”

He closes his fingers around my wrist—gently at first, but then his grip tightens. Maybe he meant to remove my hand from his person, but he just holds it there, pressed against his heartbeat.

Our gazes lock. Time stills. The energy between us swells in the small space of the limo.

Something new is happening. I’m a miner, sensing a crack in the unforgiving veneer of Wolf Benny. I want to wedge in and pry him open. I want to touch him, skin to skin.

I lean in. My lips hover at the side of his, desire beating in my veins. “She’s going to kiss you now,” I say.

He turns to me suddenly. Strong hands cradle my face. Harsh lips claim mine, pressing hungrily against mine. He’s kissing me, greedy and frenzied with passion, fingertips practically vibrating against my jawline.

I groan, shot through with liquid pleasure. His kiss radiates through my belly, my thighs, my breasts.

He pulls back, then, staring at me in a feral way. His nostrils contract with a ragged intake of breath. I feel like the prey of the sexiest beast ever, paralyzed with excitement.

He kisses me again and I kiss him right back, tunneling my fingers through his hair.

I swoop my tongue into his mouth, feeling deeply connected with him—so much so that I can feel the shifts in him like the topography of a grade school map. Here he’s thrumming with excitement, here he’s ragged, here he’s groaning.

Then suddenly he’s smooth. All the wild energy is gone. The heart of him is gone, like somebody flipped the suave switch. Like he turned into Sexorator 2000 or something.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Come back.”

“What are you talking about?” he rumbles.

“You left. You were there, and you left. You were in with me and you left,” I say.

He gives me a debonaire gaze, ever so amused. “If you don’t like my kissing technique, just say so.”

“I liked it for a while. Until you closed yourself off.”

“Just as a reminder, the current charade is you as my wife; not my psychotherapist.” He straightens his jacket, resuming his faraway stare out the other side of the limo.

“Well, if anybody had any doubts about us,” I say, echoing his words from the park, “they don’t now.”

Fourteen

Benny

I headfor my study when we get home, knowing I’ll be unable to sleep. Hating how I forgot myself back there.

I should’ve resisted the impulse to go and get her in the first place, resisted the urge to kiss her. Francine always wants what she can’t have. She’s a cat who hates a closed door, and like a cat, she’ll lose interest the moment she gets what she wants.

Been there, done that.

When I come out a little bit later, I find her curled up asleep in the den withSleepless in Seattleplaying. She’s in the loveseat next to the fireplace. It really is the best seat in the house—you can see the fireplace, you can see the TV, you can see the view out the window over the river.

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