Page 128 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set
“Oh, fuck,” I say out loud.
I didn’t mean to spend the night. What the hell time is it, anyway? I scramble out of bed to find my jeans. My phone is in my jeans, right?
“Hey, Sadie—” I look down at the rumpled bed.
No Sadie.
Did I truly just get out of her bed and not realize she wasn’t in it? Of course she’s not here. She probably had to get up and go to work. I don’t even know what day it is. Two weeks in Montana and I’ve lost all concept of time. Every day is a workday on the ranch.
I find my jeans slung over her closet door and grab the phone out of the pocket. It’s nearly dead. Fuck it all. It’s nine thirty. I have about ten texts, all of which I ignore.
Chance makes a big fucking deal out of starting each morning at six. He’s determined—or our esteemed father is determined from the grave—that we’ll learn to do everything on the damned ranch, or we won’t get our billion.
Whatever. If Chance ever gets a woman into bed, I sure as hell hope he sleeps in.
I hastily pull the jeans over my legs and hips and walk out of Sadie’s bedroom.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” She smiles and then takes a sip out of a mug. “Coffee?”
I stop, surprised. “Don’t you have to work?” I scratch my head.
“Not on Saturday, silly.” She smiles at me, her hair a mess, but in a recently fucked way.
“Is it Saturday?”
She laughs. “Uh…yeah. You seriously don’t know what day it is?”
I frown. “Hell, no. Chance has Austin and me working around the clock at that damned ranch. I’ll be in the doghouse for sure for not showing up for breakfast at six this morning.”
Not that I care. No way would I turn down waking at dawn to Sadie beneath the covers and my dick in her mouth for anything.
“He keeps you on a short leash.”
“He can also fuck himself,” I mutter.
She rises, pads to the coffee maker on the counter, and pours another cup. “Cream and sugar?”
“Hell no,” I practically growl.
“You got it.” She hands me the mug and our fingers brush against each other.
And damn if I don’t feel that tiny touch in my cock. It jerks against the denim of my jeans as I remember all the different ways I had her during the night. I’m pretty sure we might have been upside down at one point.
Sadie looks like a dream in a short red satin robe. I could easily brush it off her shoulders, spread those luscious legs, and bring her to a couple more climaxes right here in her little kitchen. On her table, spread out like a feast. I lick my lips, and not for coffee.
“So it’s Saturday,” I say, noticing how her nipples are outlined through the thin fabric.
“All day,” she replies.
“Okay. That means we met on a Thursday evening.”
“Right again.”
“Why was your friend Stacy—”
“Tracy.”
I take a sip of coffee. Damn, I want Sadie again, but it probably won’t happen. She has to be sore. “Sorry, why was Tracy having a bachelorette party on a Thursday evening? Isn’t that usually a weekend thing?”
