Tapping The Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 1)

“It wasn’t?” I tilted my head and realized things felt so much better with my head resting on the pillows.

“How about you just rest here while I get the drinks?”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted him.

“Wait!” I shrieked before he even made it a foot. I had something to tell him, and I had to tell him now.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, concern mixing deliciously with just a hint of a smile.

“You’re the best kisser on this side of the Mississippi. NO! The best kisser in the whole entire world!” My voice turned grave. “I’m talking, I’ve never had better in my life.”

Any concern disappeared as though it’d never been there.

“Yeah?” His blue eyes twinkled like actual glitter. Like he went to Michael’s, got a jar of it, and then poured it in his irises.

“Ohhh, yeah,” I agreed before reaching out and yanking him back to me with a fist in his shirt.

A chuckle rumbled his chest as I pushed mine to it tightly and slammed my lips to his without apology. They were just so soft and plump and mmm, that groan tasted good. I took what I wanted, exploring and plundering his mouth even though my face wouldn’t seem to fucking cooperate. I shoved him away softly, ordering a needy “Thirsty!” in someone else’s squeaky voice.

He shook his head and smiled, retreating without a word.

His footsteps moved farther away, toward the land of drinks, I was sure.

My fingers moved to my face, tapping my nose, and then my cheeks, and then my lips. Oh my, these things were bigger than I remembered. I grabbed my boobs just to see if other things had doubled in size.

Damn, no such luck.

If I was Goldilocks and this was the three bears’ apartment, this room was too fucking hot.

Relocation was needed. My feet flopped onto the floor. Heels were kicked off across the room, clanking against the wall. Once I got my sea legs in order, I tip-toed into the hallway.

Peeking into the room at the end of the hall, I found a king-size bed summoning me.

“Oh, yes. Come to mama!”

I cannonballed into the bed, fluffy comforter and pillows bouncing around me.

After a few body rolls from one side to the next, I found that it wasn’t the room that was stifling my temperate vibe; it was my clothes. Too many clothes.

How’d I get so many clothes on?

I stood at the foot of the bed while my numb fingers worked at the zipper of my dress. It took a bit for me to figure out the zipper was just for show. Someone had superglued me into it. Geez Louis-a May Alcott, the price we women pay for beauty.

My hands tore at the front of the dress until the initial rip echoed inside the room.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

I got down to my skivvies and decided even those were not up to par for the bed. Call it a superpower, but I could sense when a bed wanted me naked. The king had spoken, and naked was his final offer.

No one could deny the glorious feeling of rolling around naked under a soft sheet. My face met the pillow, and then my nose felt it was the perfect time to sniff the delicious Kline Brooks aroma embedded in the material. God, he smelled good. Like clean laundry and man soap and I’m going to fuck him.

Boy, that escalated quickly.

The Benadryl had become my truth serum. I wanted to sex him. I wanted to hand him a valentine that said, “Be my cherry popper,” and spread my legs as far as those babies would go. I knew valentines were only meant for a particular holiday, but this felt like an exception to the rule.

“Georgia?” Kline’s voice moved down the hallway.

“I’m in here!” I called back.

His tall frame moved through the doorway, finding me luxuriating in the bedding.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, baby.” I patted the spot beside me. “Come join me. I don’t know whose bed this is, but hells bells, it’s wonderful.”

“It’s my bed.” He chuckled, setting two glasses on the nightstand and sitting on the edge.

I sat up, holding the comforter to my chest. “This is your bed?”

He nodded, eyes moving to my bare shoulders.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I’m a fan of your bed. Big fan. The biggest fan.”

His eyes moved around the room, searching for something. His jaw dropped when whatever he was looking for came into view. “Are you naked?” he asked, swallowing hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob.

“The bed made me do it.”

“My bed made you get naked?”

“He’s a real pervy bastard, but who was I to argue?” I shrugged, the comforter falling to my waist.

Kline’s spine stiffened, averting his gaze toward the floor.

I touched his shoulder. “Everything okay?”