Page 62 of The Reluctant Billionaire
‘Why, good morning,’ I singsong cheerily.
‘You still staying at mine tonight?’ he asks my chest.
‘My boobs are still planning to spend the night with you, yes, and I was going to come along too if that’s okay?’ In truth, I’vethought of little else except being with Aide in his home, in hisbed, since he suggested it yesterday.
He has the good grace to look embarrassed. ‘Sorry.’
‘No you’re not.’
‘Nope. I’m not. You got your overnight stuff?’
‘Yeah. It’s in the hallway,’ I say, jerking my head.
He raises his dark, shapely eyebrows. ‘I didn’t notice a full-size Louis Vuitton trunk out there.’
‘Hilarious, aren’t you? You want to get laid or not?’
He glances at the doorway, then skulks around the island towards me.
Uh-oh.
‘Yes, smart-arse,’ he says, pushing my hair behind my shoulder so he can press the most delicious kiss to my neck. He drags his mouth up to my ear. He smells freshly showered and fucking amazing. ‘I want to get laid,’ he whispers. ‘Byyou.’
‘Mmm,’ I say, leaning into him. ‘Goody.’ He is so, so gorgeous. I raise a hand and trail it over his shoulder and down his arm, marvelling at how such soft skin can coexist with such hard muscle.
He straightens back up, his hand going to squeeze, to caress, the dip of my waist. He seems to love that part of my body. I take advantage of the small distance between us to touch one ofmyfavourite parts ofhisbody—that chest hair. I hook a couple of fingers into the scooped neckline of his vest and brush my knuckles over the downy coating.
‘Such a neanderthal,’ I coo. ‘Got any power tools for me today?’
‘I’ll have one tonight,’ he jokes. He pauses, then adds, ‘Can’t wait to have you in my bed.’
I shoot him a smile that telegraphs how similarly I feel. ‘How will we get back to yours?’
‘My driver, Andy, will pick us up.’
I snigger. ‘You’ve got so many personas I’m getting whiplash. I was indulging in some verbal foreplay with my bad boy builder, and then you throw bad boy billionaire into the mix. It could confuse a girl with a lesser intellect than mine.’
He smiles, then leans back in to kiss me on the cheek. His beard tickles my skin gently. ‘It’s all the same guy, sweetheart. Remember? It’s all real.’
It’s all real.
Jesus, Aide. What are you doing to me?
‘I remember,’ I tell him softly.
‘I’ve got to stick around for a bit after we finish,’ he says. ‘That little lad you fed—Connor. Told him if he managed to get him and his sister to come for a bite this evening, I’d kick a ball round with him for a bit. He’s footie mad. Hoping it’ll do the trick. You happy to hang around?’
I keep my hand on his chest and place it over his heart. The thud-thud of it is grounding. I could put my ear to his chest and listen to that sound all day long.
‘Sure—not a problem,’ I tell him with my words.
You are a good man, Aidan Duffy,I tell him with my heart.
He is a good man.
I assist Sylvie and Judy and another volunteer called Carl in a token way with dinner duty. The main part of the hall is looking great, and we’ll be finished tomorrow—two days early. Meanwhile, the kids are still being fed outside. These guys claim to have the dinner service handled, but I can’t exactly sit around and do nothing while they work, so I pretend to pack the bagsand hand them out to the kids while really ogling my brand-new man.
The football has got slightly out of hand, in that so many other kids wanted to get involved when they saw Aide coaching Connor that it’s turned into a big kick about in the too-small space. Aide ended up digging out a net of balls from one of the cupboards in the hall, and now at least a dozen kids, boys and girls whose ages I’d put somewhere in the seven-to-twelve range, are engaged in keepy-uppies and a bit of dribbling.
