Tapping The Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 1)

I couldn’t deny chatting with Ruck had become one of the highlights of my day. He was funny and sweet and charming.

And the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t really make sense.

Thatch was a nice guy, but he was also very different from the man I pictured as Ruck. He was boisterous and seemed to have a propensity for using the word fuck…a lot. In all actuality, he was Kline’s version of Cassie. They were both crazy opinionated, a bit impulsive, and often tossed out humor in otherwise serious conversations.

Nothing like the Ruck I had come to know. But then again, it was the Internet, and just because we chatted often didn’t mean I really knew him.

But I knew Kline. Despite the awkwardness of last night, it had still been a good night because of him. It was becoming a theme. If he was there, I was happy.

My own little Kline and Georgia movie played behind my lids. I curled into him more, keeping my eyes closed, and watched.

I saw us dancing on our first date, and the way I couldn’t stop smiling when he kissed me. His eyes, worried and concerned, when I was having an allergic reaction to lime juice. The way he looked that morning, sleepy and handsome and mine.

I saw us walking through New York, holding hands, and taking it all in together. I saw him at the pool, playfully taking off his boxers and turning around, dancing for my entertainment.

I saw us in the Hamptons and the way he’d looked when he’d been inside of me, moving and kissing and loving me. And then, him laughing the next morning when I tried to feed him burnt toast and told him it was supposed to be that way.

The way he’d often sneak into my office, shut the door, and pull me into his arms.

All of the inside jokes and secret smiles that we shared.

We weren’t just boyfriend and girlfriend, we weren’t just lovers, we weren’t just one thing.

We were all the things.

I was back in the present, blinking sleep from my eyes. I turned in his arms and took him in. The way his chest moved with each soft breath. The way his eyelashes separated into tiny points near the corners of his eyes. I brushed his cheek, fingers sliding past the tiny freckle near his ear.

My mind raced while my heart sped up, pounding in an erratic rhythm. And then, heart and brain collided, becoming one in the way I felt for him.

The bedroom was silent, only the faint sounds of the city filtering past us, but in the stillness, I could still hear it in the way my breath quickened. I could see it lying beside me—jaw slack and eyelashes resting against his cheeks.

And I could feel it. God, I could feel it.

I was in love.

I was in love with Kline.

Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth, silently saying, “I love you,” against his skin.

He mumbled something, but otherwise, barely budged.

Looking at his handsome face, blissfully content in sleep, I knew what I had to do.

Scratch that—I knew what I wanted to do.

I didn’t want this whole “Ruck” situation hanging over my head. I wanted to move past it, and most importantly, I wanted to move forward with Kline.

Sliding out of the bed as quietly and smoothly as possible, I threw on one of his t-shirts and headed into the kitchen to grab my phone out of my purse. I dialed Cass’s number as I stepped onto the terrace and shut the door behind me.

She answered on the fourth ring. “What in the fuck time is it?”

“I need you to take over my TapNext account.”

“Georgia?” she asked, her voice scratchy with sleep.

“Of course it’s Georgia. Who in the hell did you think it was?”

“An asshole who decided to call me at…” She paused, and the sounds of sheets rustling filled my ears. “Eight in the morning. Jesus, Georgie, couldn’t you have postponed this conversation for about four more hours?”

“I couldn’t wait. I have to fix this, Cass. I feel like the worst person in the world.”

“What? Why?”

“God, I’m such an asshole. Why did I do that? Why did I keep talking to Ruck when I knew the possibilities I had with Kline? I feel like I’ve been emotionally cheating on him the entire time.”

“Georgia—” She started to respond, but I was already chiming in, too damn worked up to stop.

“In some weird way, I think I was invested in Ruck. Not even close to how I feel about Kline, but still, I liked talking to him. I wanted to talk to him. And you know what the worst thing is? When I found out Ruck was Thatch, I was fucking disappointed. It felt like a letdown.”

“Shut. Up,” she groaned. “You didn’t cheat on him. You were just chatting with someone, as friends. This is not something you need to feel guilty about.”

I stayed quiet, mentally chastising myself for being so stupid.