The Billionaire's Gamble

“He sounds like he was a really great father,” I say.

Nolan sighs, and I know that there’s more to the story, but I don’t feel like it’s the time to press it. “He was.” Seeming to realize that he wasn’t present for a couple minutes, Nolan gives me a sad smile. “Here.” He hands me a quarter and pulls me over to one of the famous telescope viewers. For the next hour he shows me New York City from above. We stand at the rail as he tells me stories, his arms around my waist as I lean against him. It feels natural, like we’ve known each other years and not days. He steals kisses from me everywhere—my lips, my neck, my hands, my shoulders. By the time we’re supposed to leave my body is buzzing with his touch, eagerly awaiting the next time his lips touch me.

We’re driven to a restaurant called Per Se, and everyone at the restaurant knows Nolan by name. They have a private table waiting for him immediately, and they treat him with respect and deference. The food is absolutely exquisite—and it should be for a restaurant that has three Michelin stars. Everything about this evening feels like a fairytale.

Nolan tells me more about his father, and I tell him about my family. We flirt, and I notice the way his eyes keep roaming to different parts of me and coming back. He’s taking me in. I’m reminded of my sexy fashion show fantasy from the lingerie shop, and I blush, suddenly warm. The way Nolan has paid attention to me tonight, my body has been moving steadily from sensitive to aroused, and the way he’s looking at me now sends it into full gear. I hope that these lacy panties I have on are enough to keep me from staining my dress with the wetness gathering in them.

When we’re through with dinner, Nolan makes an announcement. He looks serious. “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh?” I ask. “Like this whole trip isn’t enough of a gift?”

“This is a little different.”

He puts his hand into his breast pocket and my heart lurches into a gallop. Breast pockets are where you keep small objects. Small objects like rings. Is he going to propose? Now? It would explain all the trouble he’s gone to for me today. But it would also be absolutely insane.

It’s not a ring box that he pulls out of his pocket, but some folded papers. I find myself oddly disappointed, which is a little strange. I wanted it to be a ring? I push the thought to the side, accepting the papers as he hands them to me. I open them, give them a scan, and freeze. It’s a job offer. “Is this serious?”

“Completely,” he says. “It’s an offer to be a lawyer with Coldwater Bank, with a specific assignment to the foreclosure department. Specifically, foreclosure solutions—trying to help people find a way to keep their homes.

“You liked your job, and that was taken away from you because of me. The least I can do is offer you a job to replace it. It’s not exactly in the same field, but it’s still helping people.”

I shake my head. “Nolan, no matter how guilty you feel about what happened, you don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I might have offered it to you even if you still had your job,” he says, laughing. “I like the idea of you being closer than South Carolina.”

“I like that idea too. But can I think about it?”

He waves a hand. “Of course. You think about it as long as you need. It’s a standing offer, no time limit. And if you want to work in a different department, just say so.”

“Thanks.” I duck my head, avoiding his eyes. It’s all too much. He’s too generous. I didn’t realize until now how few people I know who really go out of their way for other people.

“Just one question,” he says, and I feel his hand on my leg under the table. “Is it possible for you to think about two things at once?” His hand slides up my leg, closer to the heat between my thighs. My arousal jumps sky high, my whole body suddenly aware of the slow, deliberate journey of his hand.

“I can think of two things at once.” My voice is huskier than it was a moment ago, and I reach out my own hand under the table. “I can maybe even think of three.”

My fingers brush his cock, and I see Nolan stiffen. I let a sly smile cross my lips as I move my hand over him, feeling just how hard he his. I grip him through his trousers, squeezing, feeling the rest of him tense. I stroke up and down his cock, gripping as much of him as I can through the fabric of his pants. I watch Nolan close his eyes, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he grits his teeth. Suddenly his hand is on my wrist, and I look up to find his eyes near black with lust. I recognize that look—it’s the same one he wore that night in the hotel before he gave me the best sex of my life.