Page 70 of No More Billionaires

TWENTY-TWO

Beck and Call

I must have dozed—more like passed completely out in the kind of post-sex insta-coma that only occurs when you’ve experienced complete and total satisfaction.

After four times, it’s a miracle I ever woke up.

When I did, I sat straight up in the bed, my eyes searching Larson’s room desperately for a clock.

His hand lifted to caress my shoulder. “Whassa matter?” he mumbled, still more asleep than awake. “Everything okay?”

Sliding away from his warm hand and out of the warm bed, I searched the floor around it for my blouse and cardigan, my pants, my bra and panties.

“I have to go home,” I whispered. “You just stay in bed. I’ll show myself out.”

I grabbed my clothing and headed for the bathroom attached to his bedroom.

Once inside, I flipped the light switch to reveal a gorgeous tumbled marble floor, miles of countertop, a huge glassed-in shower and deep soaking tub.

And mirrors. Mirrors everywhere, and boy did my reflection look rough.

I didn’t look forward to creeping into my house looking like this. Not that Momma would be mad.

No, she’d be in raptures, pulling out her pom-poms to cheer Team Sperm on toward the ovum-bearing finish line. (We want grandbabies, yes we do! But only if their daddy’s as rich as you!)

Ugh.I used the bathroom, washed my hands and face, and slipped my clothes back on. When I opened the door, Larson was out of bed and waiting on the other side, wearing a pair of boxers and a smile.

“Hi,” I whispered, suddenly feeling bashful.

I love you.

Did he know? Could he tell? Did he love me, too?

Or was sex all this was about?

He stepped forward and pulled me to his chest, leaning down to kiss me softly. “Hi. I don’t like the idea of you driving home at this time. Sure you can’t stay?”

I nodded. “Really sure. One of the many joys of living at home in your twenties—answering to Momma and Daddy about your overnight whereabouts.”

“Ever think about moving out?”

I laughed. “Only every three minutes or so. Not everyone can afford a luxury bachelor pad, you know. Until I get a promotion, I’m stuck there. Believe me—I’m working on it.”

Larson kissed me again then pulled my head to his chest, stroking my hair repeatedly. I snuggled into his embrace, enjoying the sensation and wishing Icouldstay.

“You could stay here for a while… until you can afford your own place.”

I jerked my head up to see his face, to see if he was joking. There wasn’t a hint of humor in his eyes.

I blinked once. Twice. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? I have more than enough room.”

He gave me a wicked grin and leaned in toward my mouth again while giving my bottom a gentle squeeze.

“And I wouldn’t mind having a hot blonde at my beck and call.”

I stepped back, avoiding his kiss, my eyes going wide and my heart dropping to my unpainted toes. He was joking. I was sure of it.

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