Page 30 of Enticing My Off Limits Billionaire

I can't breathe, can't swallow.

"The clothes are here," I say, my voice hoarse. "You can change, and then...uh, you should be comfortable. If you leave the door cracked, Stanley will probably come in and curl up with you, and he gets a little rowdy at the witching hour."

I can't shut up. I have to keep talking, or I'm going to grab her and take her to bed. I want to be inside her so bad...

"The witching hour," she echoes, laughing softly. "Okay."

"Well, goodnight," I say, then I move to brush past her…but I stop dead when she puts her hand on my chest, the two of us standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, but I can't sleep until I do this," she says softly.

Then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me.

I stay as still as I possibly can, ignoring the way my pulse hammers in my chest and how my limbs practically vibrate under her touch. Her fingers curl in the soft fabric of my t-shirt, water dripping from her hair to my arms. I can't help but kiss her back, tilting my mouth to fit hers, gently taking hold of her elbows.

I don't want it to end.

I never want to stop kissing Madison Sterling.

I pull back slowly, torn between going to bed and staying here with her. She splays her hands out on my chest, though, and then looks up into my eyes.

"That was because I wanted to, not because I'm drunk," she says quietly. "Goodnight, Quinn."

And then she steps into my guest room and shuts the door behind her.

Or...almost shuts it.

But she leaves it cracked open for the cat.

Chapter ten

Madison

Iwakeupina stranger's bed, a cat curled up beside me and purring like a rumbling engine.

I sit straight up, and my head spins and pounds like a motherfucker. Shit...I drank way too much last night. I can remember going to the club and meeting up with Sophia, Bryn, and Trip. I can remember dancing with the staff from the White Oak, drinking more and more...

I can't remember texting Quinn the first time, but I remember when he came to get me.

I remember walking to his apartment.

I remember kissing him.

I smack my palm against my forehead, which sends me reeling with another round of stabbing pain. I wince and look down to see the cat arching his back and yawning as he stands up and hops out of bed. He moseys toward the cracked door and disappears on the other side, his tail the last thing to vanish.

Then, I smell food.

Bacon.

Eggs.

Coffee.

My stomach rumbles, and I somehow manage to throw the blankets off myself, my head spinning again as I get out of bed. Yes, I feel like trash...but there are very few things that can keep me from a good cup of coffee. I open the door with a creak, and then I trudge down the hallway, realizing I'm dressed in some of Quinn's clothing—sweats and an indie band t-shirt—when I'm already standing in his living room.

He doesn't see me at first, giving me a chance to look around at his apartment. And the place...it's so him. Bookshelves line the walls, and a battered vintage sofa is across from a small TV. I know he could afford better—the White Oak is a pricy club to belong to—but this looks more like Quinn than anything I could have imagined.

I love it.

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