Page 55 of A Billion Dollar Romance
“And I’ll get to do what I wanttonight,” I finished for her, and watched as her lips parted. “I don’t have to worry about those other men, do I, Edie?”
She shook her head.
“Good,” I said, and beckoned for her to come closer. She did, slipping down from the bed and coming towards me. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” I said again. “It’s just that I don’t want to share you when you’re looking like that.”
“Like what?” she asked, and guilt rose along the back of my neck.
Then her hands slipped between my shirt and my jacket, her front pressed tight to mine, and I looked down to see her smirking.
“Like I don’t want to share you,” I said, and this time, it wasn’t jealousy that tinged my voice, but heat. “Like I want to skip dinner, and just keep you here with me.”
“I want that, too,” she murmured, standing on her tiptoes for a kiss. “But–”
“But there’s networking to be done,” I said on a sigh, and she smiled.
“Let’s not be too late,” she said. “Or everyone will be wondering what we’ve been up to…”
I pulled her into me again, tangling my hands into the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her face up for a bruising kiss. Edie started, then relaxed into me, her palms warm against my sides through my dress shirt. When I broke the kiss, she remained with her eyes closed, lips softly parted for a moment. “Let them wonder,” I murmured against them. “As long as it’s only me who gets to know.”
“Only you,” Edie agreed, and I released her. She was perfectly flushed, her lips kiss-swollen, her hair slightly disheveled.
Let them think what they wanted.
I knew the truth.
Edie wasmine.
CHAPTER28
Edie
Every morsel of dinner–fromthe tiny, delicately folded rice paper of the appetizer through to the perfectly bittersweet chocolate of the truffle that came with our post-dessert coffee–was delicious.
None of it was as delicious as the heat of James’s eyes on me and the cool silk against my bare skin.
And the knowledge that under my dress, I wasn’t wearing anything at all.
“What have you been reading recently?” the woman to my right asked, sipping her coffee. I smiled that it had taken the table so long to get to this point; I’d expected it would be the first question on everyone’s lips, but it seemed that the guests here were, for the most part, more interested in the business of books than the books themselves.
“I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading,” I said with an apologetic smile, “but unfortunately, mostly work-related. Pre-publication,” I added, and she nodded knowingly.
“And you’re a writer, Rachel told me?”
“I am, literary fiction.”
“Like your fiancé was. How sweet.”
My smile stiffened on my face. “Oh, no, he’s still a writer, as well as the CEO of Verity,” I corrected, and she leaned forward.
“Ishe? I’d thought–well. What is he working on now?” She craned her neck to look over my shoulder. I followed her gaze: James was chatting to someone across the table, looking slightly bored. I overheard the phrasemarket predictionsfrom his conversation partner, and smiled to myself.
“Nothing at the moment,” I said, distracted. I’d turned back to my neighbor, but James’s hand had found my thigh under the table again, one thumb sliding back and forth over the silk.
“I see,” she said, nodding knowingly. “Of course. I’m sure it’s going to be a challenge–”
I didn’t hear what was going to be a challenge. Her eyes widened a fraction, brows lifted, distracted by something behind me.
Someone.
