Tapping The Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 1)

Mmmmmmmm. That feels nice. I had the urge to purr into his palm and beg him to scratch my belly. All of a sudden, being a cat sounded like the best idea I’d ever had.

“Meow?” he asked, all four of his eyebrows scrunching together.

“Huh?”

“Did you just say meow?”

“Meowww… Meowww…” I tested it on my tongue. My lips felt funny. “Yeah, I think I did.” I nuzzled into his palm. “Keep petting me, Kline. I might actually start purring soon.”

A deep chuckle vibrated his chest. My head moved of its own accord, leaning forward and resting against his hard pecs. For real, Kline Brooks had pecs. Hard-as-fuck pecs. Mmm. Nipples. I wondered what his nipples tasted like.

He adjusted in his seat, his hand resting at the nape of my neck. “Georgie? We need to get you upstairs. I think you might’ve had too much Benadryl.”

Me thinks so too. Suggested dosage, schmagested mosage.

“Hahaha. Mosage.”

My body rocked like he was shaking his head.

“I think I’m high.”

He chuckled again, pec-pulsation caressing my cheek.

“Now I remember why I loved Mary Jane so much in high school.”

“I’m going to carry you out of the car, okay?”

“We’re in a car?” I sat up straight, releasing his perfect chest from my cheek’s assault. “Whose car?”

“This is my regular car, sweetheart. Frank drove us. Are you ready?”

I glanced at his crotch. “Oh, I had no idea we were already headed in that direction. I guess this date went pretty good, huh? We’re headed for naked time. That’s gotta be a good thing.” My hand stroked his thigh, savoring the feel of muscles sheathed by soft material. “I bet you’re fuck-hot naked.”

He grinned, grabbing my hand and pulling it to his lips for a soft kiss. “How about we get out of this car and head up to my apartment?”

I nodded. At least, I thought I was nodding. I decided to nod a few more times just for good measure. You could never be sure about a nod. They could be tricky little things.

“Okay, wrap your arms around my neck. I’m going to carry you upstairs.”

“Oh, yeah. Carry me, Kline. Carry me so good.”

Big arms wrapped around my body, pulling me out of the car. Once I was airborne—swaddled up in strong muscles and delicious male pheromones mixed with sexy cologne—my voice decided to make its debut. If there was ever a time for a song, it was right now, while Kline carried me past a doorman and through a lobby I’d never seen.

“Wicky, wicky, wicky, beatbox! K-K-Kline looks like sex and he’s so clean, clean!”

I’d always had a talent for freestyling.

“Wicky, wicky, wicky, beatbox! Big-dicked Brooks in da house! Can I get an Amen! Wicky, wicky, wicky, remix!”

“Georgia,” Kline whispered through a laugh. “I need to set you down for a second while I get my keys.”

My feet touched the ground and the hallway morphed into a dervish’s wheel, spinning around in a hypnotic display of plush velvet rugs and cream-colored walls. “Whoa, settle down, hallway! You’re outta control!” I reached for the wall, but he was quicker, gripping my waist and stopping my forward momentum.

“Here we go,” he instructed, maneuvering me through the door and inside his apartment. “Let’s get you settled on the couch and maybe get some non-alcoholic fluids in you.”

I threw my body onto the leather sofa, nuzzling my face into the pillows. “Oh yeah, baby. Now, this is the kind of couch I’m talking about.”

“Georgia.” Kline’s face was inches from mine, his long fingers settling below my chin.

“Hey, where’d you come from?” I asked, peeking out from my pillow fort. “I thought you were by the door. Man, you’re quick. Are you working out?”

He smiled, blue eyes working their magic on my libido. Li-bee-dough. What a weird word. It sounded more courtroom than sex. “I’d like the record to show he was badgering my key witness for a libido!” See what I mean?

“Georgia, sweetheart,” Kline summoned my gaze. And son of a hooker nut, there were those blue eyes again. Surely, they were trying to hypnotize my vagina. It was working, by the way.

Any minute, my panties would just, poof!, disappear into thin air.

“Have mercy,” I whispered. “That smile, plus those eyes, it’s like a sex cream sundae. I want two scoops.”

A small laugh left his lips. “How about we start with a drink first? What sounds good? I’ve got water, tea, coffee?”

“I’ll take the vodka. But on the rocks, please.”

He shook his head, amused. “Vodka wasn’t an option.”