Tapping The Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 1)

My hands were all over him, touching his chest and stomach and then sliding up his back. I was about two seconds away from mounting him inside the elevator when the bell dinged, signaling we’d reached his floor.

He didn’t waste any time, picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me out, grabbing my ass.

We were a mess of kissing and groping as we reached his door. It took him three tries to fit the key into the lock and open it. We tumbled into his apartment. He kicked the door shut. My back was pressed against the wall as he continued to kiss the hell out of me.

“Kline? Is that you?”

We stopped, glancing toward the female voice coming from the living room.

“Shit,” he cursed, untangling us.

My feet hit the floor and Kline discreetly adjusted my shirt.

I looked at him, confused. What the hell?

“My mom,” he mouthed just as she rounded the corner.

Panic hit me. I was about to meet his mom. Kline’s mom. She was here, in his apartment. And two seconds ago, I’d been about to hump him in the elevator.

I mean, what were the odds? Friday night, Kline had popped my cherry, and today, I was meeting his fucking mother. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

Deep breaths, Georgia. You can do this. You can get through this without looking like a moron.

“Kline, darling! We didn’t know you’d be home so early,” she greeted, moving toward her son and giving him a hug. His mother was beautiful—dark hair that was cut into a bob, bright blue eyes, blinding smile. I was starting to see where Kline got his looks.

“Uh, hi, Mom.” He cleared his throat. Scratched his cheek. “Just out of curiosity, how did you get in my apartment?”

“The spare key you gave us.”

“You mean my emergency key? The one I gave you just in case I lost mine or managed to lock myself out of my apartment?”

“Yeah, that one.” She nodded and smiled, not catching his drift in the slightest.

Kline sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Kline, my boy!” A tall, handsome man walked toward us. He was a distinguished kind of handsome, with salt and pepper hair and glasses covering his brown eyes.

Oh, shit! His dad is here too?

“Hey, Dad,” Kline greeted.

The two men hugged, clapping one another on the back.

His dad’s focus turned to me. “And who is this gorgeous woman?”

“Bob, I was just about to ask that,” his mother added, almost insulted that he’d gotten to it first. It caused a hint of a smile to spread across my face.

“This is my girlfriend.” Kline wrapped his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. If it hadn’t been for the panic over his parents, I might have focused a little harder on the use of the label ‘girlfriend,’ jumped up and down a couple of times—that sort of thing.

“Georgia, these are my parents, Bob and Maureen,” he begrudgingly introduced us. I had a feeling he was peeved their unexpected visit had put a damper on our little moment in the elevator.

I fought my normal urges to shout something awkward and completely inappropriate.

“Oh, hi! I’m Georgia! Your son took my virginity this weekend! You really did a great job with him! He sure knows how to please a woman!”

Yeah, don’t worry. I managed to keep my foot-in-mouth syndrome under control.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” I shook their hands. “Kline has told me so much about you.”

“Oh, she’s very pretty, Kline,” Maureen murmured, winking at her son.

“Can’t deny that,” Bob added. “Looks like you’re finally slowing down and enjoying yourself.”

“Thank goodness!” his mother agreed. “It’s about time our baby boy took some time for himself. He works too hard.” She looked at Kline. “You really do, honey. You work way too hard.”

Kline started to say something, but his father was already chiming in. “Definitely works too hard. You look good, son. And I have a feeling it has a lot to do with this pretty lady here.” Bob nodded in my direction.

I felt like I was in the middle of a tennis match, moving my head back and forth, back and forth, just to keep up with their constant chatter. They were pretty adorable, to be honest.

“So, what brings you guys here, to my apartment, on a Sunday?”

“Your father still hasn’t fixed my washer. And I needed to throw a few loads in,” Maureen explained, giving Bob the side-eye. “But don’t worry, I went ahead and did all of your laundry while I was at it. And I cleaned your bathroom. It was a mess, Kline Matthew,” she scolded.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it.”