Page 20 of The Billionaire and I

Easy, bro,I chided myself.She’s your hired date. You don’t have to get sloppy over this girl.

I wouldn’t get too attached to her—I knew better than that. She was Ms. Right for Right Now, and I was thrilled that James had given me her name. These were going to be the best two weeksever.

My phone pinged while I was in the shower. There were several texts from my father’s assistant, Kevin. My old man wasn’t great with technology, so he often barked at poor Kevin to do his dirty work, dictating nasty messages at all hours.

Your Father wanted me to send you these messages. My (standing) apologies. - Kevin

Why haven’t you called Ramos? I’m still waiting on these damn approvals!

No more excuses. So tired of your BS.

Fuck,I’d forgotten about his demand.

Tell him I got tied up with something at work. I’ll call him this afternoon.

I glared at my phone, wanting to throw it into the toilet, or better yet, out the window and into the harbor below. All my father cared about was business. I didn’t even know why anymore—he already had all the money in the world. I wasn’t sure why I even bothered thinking about the why; he was a lost cause, bitter and angry ever since my mother died when I was a kid.

Ever since I was little, he’d made it clear that he resented raising me alone. He was angry all the time—angry at life, angry at me, maybe even angry at my mom for daring to get cancer and leave us. Anyone else would’ve remarried, moved on, and tried to salvage what remained of his life. But my father wasn’t anyone else. He channeled his rage into his business, as if throwing more money onto his pile of billions would somehow make everything—or anything—better. He sometimes also channeled his rage at me, the son who failed to mention his father in hisForty Under Fortyarticle, along with various other grievances.

I didn’t call Ramos. Instead, I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed back to the bedroom. We had to get ready to meet James and Audrey for drinks, but I needed something first.

Something to take my mind off things.

Jenny was awake, curled onto her side, staring out the window at the view. She was so pretty, it almost hurt to look at her. Her dirty blond curls tumbled over the bed. Her face, round, smooth, and open, was relaxed as she watched the harbor. Her lips were full and pillowy, just begging to be kissed. I dropped my towel and climbed into bed next to her, snuggling against her warm skin. She smelled like me and also like her coconut body spray. “I’m very partial to coconuts, you know.”

“Yeah?” She laughed and played with my hair, still staring out the window. “That’s good, because you know I love my spray.”

“What’re you looking at, huh? The harbor?”

Jenny nodded. “It’s a real pretty view, Cole. Real pretty.”

“I know.” I contentedly sighed as she played with my hair. It was such a relief to be with someone that I could bemyselfwith. Jenny didn’t have any expectations of me. I’d hired her as my date. That made it simple. I could be myself and not worry about anything. Usually, the women I dated all wanted somethingfrom me—an engagement ring, a fancy dinner, a connection, being included in some stupid social media post. But Jenny and I were simple. We were a transaction, and that made it easy to navigate. I was good at deals. People—women, in particular—were much more complicated.

But not Jenny. Hanging out with her was relaxing, a far cry from how I usually felt with women after I slept with them. I was always ready to leave—or rather, to kick them out. But I was positively gleeful that Jenny would be in my bed for the next two weeks.

I stretched out, relishing the feel of her bare skin against mine.

She skimmed her hands down my chest, absentmindedly running her fingers over my muscles. The touch of her skin against mine was electric. It started getting hot again. My cock stirred, rising to attention, and I groaned. “You might have to stop touching me. We’ll never make it to drinks.”

“Aw, Cole,” she teased, hands roaming lower, “you worried about time? We can do it quick, real quick. That’s why they call it a ‘quickie’!”

She laughed, and I rolled on top of her, all thoughts of my father’s texts slipping away. Instead, I put my mouth on Jenny’s, tasting her delicious tongue, running my hands down her smooth, smooth skin. I inhaled deeply, the heady smell of coconuts engulfing my senses.

We couldn’t literally have sex every five minutes for the next two weeks…could we?

Jenny ran her nails down my back to my ass, which she cupped as she positioned me next to her sex. Heat surged through me, making my whole body tingle, embers catching fire. I wanted her. Again. I wanted to make her come. Again. When was the last time I truly gave a fuck about somebody’s orgasm other than my own?

Never, said the voice in my head. I ignored it, even though it was right.

I palmed her sex as I readied her for me. She was wet again, so wet. It made my heart swell with pride.

“Right there, baby,” she cooed, bucking against my hand. “I like that.”

I kept rubbing her clit as I notched myself inside her again. Jenny sighed with either pleasure or happiness, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t know anything other than the fact that we were together again, in bed, naked, and it was the best thingever.

So…Couldwe have sex every five minutes for the next two weeks?

It seemed I was about to find out.

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