Bad Billionaire (Bad Billionaires 1)

I dug my nails harder into his thighs. I wanted to see that. “Keep going,” I said.

He came with a groan of relief, his come hitting my stomach, my chest. And I kept watching. I watched it all.

We were quiet. After a minute, he got up and left. I heard the water running. I stared at the dark ceiling, feeling sated and relaxed, my body still humming, the way it always did when Devon was nearby.

He came back and sat on the edge of the bed, cleaning me with a warm cloth. When he was done, I rolled to my side, facing him, and pulled my knees up.

I felt his hand brush the hair back from my temple, and when I turned my head and looked up, I saw him looking down at me, his gaze intent in the half-light.

“We okay?” he asked at last.

I blinked up at him. I could never quite get a handle on him, this man who could be so rough and so gentle by turns. I was starting to understand that my fascination with him ran so deep it was something I couldn’t control.

“Yes,” I told him. “We’re okay.”

“Good.” He got into bed with me, big and naked and male, and I shivered pleasantly as he wrapped himself around me, all of that power gentle as he touched me. “Get some rest.”

“Is there going to be more?” I asked sleepily. Hopefully.

He laughed softly and kissed my neck. “Of course there is,” he said as I closed my eyes. “Be ready.”

Seventeen

Olivia

“You did what?” Gwen asked me, her gray-blue eyes wide. “Over a dresser? In a house in Diablo?”

I pulled my drink toward me and sipped it. It had vodka in it, and it was strong—that was all I knew. We were in a trendy bar downtown, sitting at a small table while good-looking people in expensive outfits milled around us. “Jeez, keep it down,” I said. “These people have class.”

That made her snort. She scratched the back of her heel. She was wearing a red dress in a retro style, dotted with white polka dots. The effect, mixed with her blond hair and pinup body, wasn’t exactly class—but I didn’t see any of the cashmere-suited men in the place complaining. “You are certifiably insane,” she said.

I grinned at her, feeling momentarily giddy. “You’re the one who told me to save a car and ride a mechanic.”

“That’s when he was a mechanic, not an ex-con.” She looked me up and down, her little-sister gaze knowing. “You’re practically floating to the ceiling. Dresser sex didn’t do that. What else did you do?”

“Stuff,” I said vaguely.

She cocked an eyebrow. “More than once?”

“More than more than once.”

“Huh.” She touched a nail to her red lips. “Impressive.”

“Me or him?” I asked.

“Him, silly. I have respect for a man with stamina. Though some of that might have been post-prison buildup.” She looked thoughtful again. “You’ll have to take him for another round before you decide whether to keep him or not.”

I laughed. “Gwen, you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She sipped her drink, which was electric blue and had God knew what in it. “I’m just practical. You can’t go crazy over this guy, Liv, multiple rounds or not. You’ve got too much going for you.”

I smiled. “Right. My shitty job and my crappy apartment at Shady Oaks?”

“You know I don’t mean that.” She waved her hands around me, in my direction, like she was weaving a spell. “I mean you. The you effect. You’re top of the line, honey. Olivia Maplethorpe doesn’t settle.”

Well. My sister exasperated me, and sometimes she amused me, but there were times when she just hit me right in the chest. “Thanks,” I said, trying not to sound choked up. “But we’re not getting married or anything. I’m not settling. I’m just…” I trailed off, not sure what to say. Losing my mind was a possibility.

“Getting properly laid,” Gwen supplied. “I get it. At least this guy gave you actual orgasms, unlike that Todd dope, where you had to fake it.”