Page 51 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
It was our monthly get-together. No matter what, we always made a point to see each other regularly. Alessio and his family, Aurora and hers, Winston, Royce, and my whole wild brother-in-law’s family.
“Come on, soeur, we don’t need this shit. Ashfords are a goddamn plague on this plant. Best to keep our distance so we don’t catch anything.”
Billie’s words annoyed the fuck out of me, but I ignored her. I couldn’t peel my gaze from her baby sister, drinking her in. I’d need it to jerk off for the next decade. She was still hot as fuck. Maybe even hotter. More confident. Just looking at her made me hard.
Other women could parade around me naked and nothing. Zip. Nada. But one glimpse of her, and I was fully erect.
The air crackled between us, and if one of us didn’t leave, New Orleans would get to experience a different kind of fireworks.
“It’s nice to see you.” Fuck. Why in the fuck wasIbeing nice? She was the one that ended shit between us—before they’d even had a chance to take off. What were her exact words?
A mistake. We were a mistake.
I had never thought the words from a woman’s mouth alone could break my heart.
“Mr. Ashford.” She tilted her head like a queen. Her eyes overflowed with ice, the gold freckles in them suddenly frozen. “I’d say it’s nice to see you, but it’d be a lie.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Women fell down to their knees, worshiping me like a god. Not the other way around. Why couldn’t she be like the rest of them? But then I remembered the things that had attracted me to her in the first place—her stunning looks. Her intelligence. And how goddamn stubborn she was.
Turning her back to me, she nudged her sister away from us. “Just stick to the plan,” I thought I heard her mutter.
My eyes lingered on her ass, those jean shorts hugging her just right. Seriously, that ass was made for me. It fit my palms just right, and she fucking loved my palms on them.
“Who’s that?” the little boy questioned, his blue eyes darting over Billie’s shoulders to Odette, then to me.
Odette’s answer sliced like a sharp knife. “Nobody important, baby.”Ouch.
Stop looking at her, my reason commanded.Look away.
But my body never listened to reason when it came to her. I watched Odette take a seat, her back to me. Something wasn’t right. The tension in her slim shoulders was obvious. Her back was stiff, and she was still fisting her hands.
Maybe I still impact her like she impacts me?One could only hope.
She said something to her sister, and with a frown, I watched her sister and the boy—who had to be Odette’s nephew—scurry away.
“Who are they?” my sister Aurora asked curiously, interrupting my staring.
I let Winston take that one, but he just grumbled something under his breath. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he announced, standing abruptly. “Unless you want me to grind against your dick, I suggest you move your ass.”
Goddamn him. My cock was hard as a rock, and I really didn’t need anyone witnessing this reaction I was having to Odette Madeline Swan.
Fucking booth seating. Whoever came up with it should be shot!
Winston disappeared in the direction of the restrooms while I took my seat back.
“Byron, who’s that?” Aurora asked again. She was relentless when she wanted answers. It was probably what made her a good FBI agent.
“A doctor. She treated me once.” And I fucked her brains out. Or maybe she fucked my brains out. It was still up for debate. “She was still in medical school back then.”
“You must have been a cranky patient if she had that reaction to seeing you again,” my sister mused.
“And you’re surprised?” Sasha Nikolaev, the annoying fuck that he was, chimed in. “She probably hated the fact she had to touch his ugly ass.”
I flipped him off. “I’m better looking than you.”
“Yet I’m married and you’re not.”
“If you don’t want your wife to become a young, attractive widow, you’ll shut your mouth,” I deadpanned. Okay, maybe it pissed me off that Sasha—of all people—ended up happily married even with his annoying mouth, yet here I was, detested by the only woman I’d ever truly wanted.
