Page 6 of The Elusive Billionaire
What the fuck did this old fool do now?
“What the hell are you doing? Let me go.” She wrenches her arm free and glares at me.
This is why I’m wearing guilt like a second skin. I should not be lusting after Savvy Monroe—when we barely tolerate each other—while aching for the connection I have with a faceless woman I’ll never meet but can’t stop texting with either.
But night after night, I fall into bed with Savvy as though a rabid force of nature is pushing us together, only to wake up searching for a message from my Firefly.
Self-control has always been paramount for me, but where Savvy is concerned, I appear to have none.
And it’s so very wrong.
We want completely different things.
We’re not even compatible, for fuck’s sake.
Fighting is not foreplay…except in our case, it’s not only foreplay, but also the accelerant to our most deviant desires.
“It’s not me. Pops set his suit jacket on fire over at the Chug.” Savvy waves her hands in front of my face, and I tune everyone else out. Even Braxton, my half brother, best friend, and tonight’s groom.
I forget everything as Savvy ramps up. Her arms wave wildly as she speaks. I like when she gets worked up like this, her cheeks tinging pink. It reminds me of the color of her skin when she comes.
And just like that, my cock jerks in my pants as though she’s reciting a magical incantation to lure him to her side.
It makes no sense at all. I don’t even like her…do I?
Savvy’s loud and demanding. She pushes my buttons just to irritate me. She forces me to communicate and engage. She’s nothing like my Firefly.
I’m so goddamn confused, and I hate myself for it.
Savvy or Firefly? Firefly or Savvy?
My nephew, Sage, thinks I should see a therapist. If he knew half the shit flying around my head, he’d surely force the issue.
I study Savvy’s reaction as I lift my thumb to wipe away the soot from her cheekbone. Her expressive green eyes grow large, but it’s the sharp intake of breath that I love.
My gaze darts lower as the column of her delicate neck works to swallow. I’m itching to wrap my hands around it, and whenshe shivers, I groan low and deep in my throat because I know she’s thinking the same thing. Braxton’s audible gasp brings our situation back into focus, and I drop my hands. He’s never seen me react this way because no one has ever fractured my control the way Savvy does.
Once again, she’s forced me to lose all restraint around her.
“Tell us what you want us to do.” It’s shocking how calm my voice sounds because the internal battle I’m experiencing is overriding all common sense.
I’m an asshole for loving how I fluster her yet doing it anyway.
She blinks.
“Fine. Ah, hold this stuff so I can wash the soot off Pops before he ruins Madi’s dress.” She shoves all kinds of shit into my hands. A hairbrush, her phone, some sticky tape that says it’s for boobs—where the hell did she get this, and what exactly is it doing?
Leaning back, I scan her long, lean form. Her emerald dress hugs the slight curve of her hip, and the long brown hair I love is pulled high on her head in a sleek ponytail that has my blood heating—I can’t wait to wrap my fist around it later. Her tits are the perfect size, and now I’m imagining removing tape from her naked skin.
At least until Pops gives her a hard time. He’s a seventy-year-old menace.
Braxton says something that I answer on autopilot. I keep my focus on Savvy as she ushers the old nuisance toward a tree.
“If my phone rings, you have to answer it,” Savvy calls over her shoulder. “Moose said he’ll call when he’s around the corner with Madi. The code is 5212 if you need it.”
Who the hell rides to their wedding on a horse and carriage in January? That’s a hard fucking no for me. Especially when I can practically see my breath every time I open my mouth.
“You really are an arsehole,” Cian mutters in his thick Irish brogue.
