Page 74 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

“I’m sorry.” A shudder ran through him and I felt it in my fingertips.

“And you deserve me. You have a right to be happy.”

“I’m just…not used to it.”

“Then get used to it, Mr. Hart.”

My world tilted abruptly. Probably because I was tilting abruptly. I landed on my back on the seat of the limo and Caspian came down on top of me. And it was ridiculous—we were all limbs and elbows, and there wasn’t actually enough room, so one of his knees was on the floor and my foot was in the air, and everything was hot and clumsy and precarious and desperate. We’d gone from Casablanca to “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” rolling around like horny teenagers, our mouths clashing as much as they were kissing, and our hands tangled up in each other, and I loved it.

It took me somewhere I’d never been. Gave me something I never thought I’d have, since I’d spent my adolescence mostly playing board games, walking on the beach, and wanking (not all at the same time obviously). Sex wasn’t really on the cards until I got to university, where being skinny, queer, and bookish wasn’t an unsurmountable triple threat of nope. Also I didn’t have to walk miles to find a human who wasn’t related to me or in love with someone related to me or married to someone who was in love with someone related to me. Things got easier, personally and logistically, is what I’m saying. And I made up for lost time. Boy, did I make up for lost time.

But, in the strangest sort of way, this felt timeless. It didn’t matter that I’d just disembarked from a private jet and we were in the back of a Rolls on the way to a luxury apartment in Kensington. This was every behind-the-bike sheds snog I’d never had. A fumbling mess of hope and eagerness and sheer impossible joy.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to cry or giggle.

Or, y’know, come in my jeans. Because it was fucking ludicrously sexy. Being kissed like you were better than dignity. More important than air.

“I’m not going to that damn party,” Caspian gasped. “I’m not.”

That brought me back to the here and now with a bump. “I though you said it was a charity thing your mum was organizing?”

“It is. But have you any idea how many such events I have attended over the years? I want, and will have, this evening with you.”

Oh dear. Conflict.

On the one hand: Caspian being all bossy, which I found incredibly hot. On the other hand: fucking charity. And probably there was a special place in hell for people who stopped good deeds happening because they wanted to get laid.

“I’ll still be here tomorrow,” I said.

“It’s already been too long, Arden. I’m done with waiting.”

He got all with the lips and hands again, so I was pretty distracted. And, even when I remembered there were protests I ought to be making, I kept putting them off because…well…kissing was better. Eventually, though, I drifted out of the sensual haze and gave his shoulder a little shove. “Caspian. Stop. Seriously.”

I’d meant stop putting your mouth everywhere while I was trying to have a conversation. Not pull away abruptly and relocate to the other side of the limo. Leaving me cold, bereft, and disheveled.

“Um.” I sat up too. Made a vague attempt to do something with my hair, which had fluffed up monstrously. “I just don’t want your mum to hate me.”

Fuck. That sounded incredibly presumptuous.

“Not,” I rushed on, “that I ever expect to meet her.”

He gave me an unreadable look from across the car. “But you will. At Ellery’s party.”

Oh. Oh gosh. I hadn’t even considered that. “Then all the more reason for me not to fuck up her event by stealing her son.”

“I wasn’t intending to tell her, Arden. I would have made some other excuse. My work often requires me to miss things.”

“But…but…” I gazed at him, shocked. “You can’t lie to your family.”

“Surely you’ve lied to yours.”

“No. Never. Why would you do something like that?”

He shrugged. “The same reasons you might lie to anyone: social nicety, personal convenience, simple necessity.”

How had I forgotten Caspian was like this too? Merciless in ways I could never find appealing. Cold in ways that hurt my heart.

“Do you lie to me?” I heard myself say, in a very small voice.

---