My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

She waves a hand wildly and then smacks it down on the table so hard, Winston jumps, snorts, and then falls back to sleep.

“Don’t worry about the ending. If you were in the throes of pictures and pornographic material, he was invested. He probably just panicked.”

“Panicked? Why in the heck would he panic? I’m the one with no experience here!”

She laughs. “You’re his best friend’s little sister. They probably swore on a blood pact that he’d never touch your lady bits when they were kids, and now, he’s exchanging soft-core pictures with you.”

Her overzealous joy spurs a laugh from my lips. “You’re insane.”

She shakes her head. “Nah, girl, you are insane—in the best damn way. I am so proud of you!”

I giggle shakily and take a sip of coffee. “Man,” I jabber. “I still can hardly believe I did it. I mean, I had to read through our conversation again this morning just to make sure that it was real.”

“Fast learner, you are, Obi-Wan.”

Her response makes me snort. “First of all, I don’t think that reference is right.” She shrugs. “And let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here. I mean, I don’t even know if he…you know…enjoyed it.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“What?”

“Come on. Don’t be a prude,” she says with a grin. “Were his messages focused on making you come?”

Uh. Ha. Yeah. I mean, I was touching myself at his command when he ended it. When my cheeks start to heat, she points an index finger in my direction.

“You adorable little hussy!”

I fall face first into my palms, and she puts her hands on my shoulders and shakes them consolingly.

“If you enjoyed it that much, I can guarantee he enjoyed it too.”

“How in the hell do you know?”

“Because phone sex, text sex, any kind of virtual sex, is the ultimate two-way street. None of it is tangible, it’s all imagination. In order to say things to you that get you excited, he has to be able to see them in his mind. And if he sees them in his mind, I promise you, as a male member of the human species, he was feeling them in his dick. He probably wanked himself to all manner of thoughts of you right after you guys were done.”

Milo masturbated to thoughts of me?

Holy. Shit. My cheeks flush again, and Lena doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, friend,” she says, and her full lips turn up in a knowing smile. “And guess what? Because of last night, you just successfully put yourself into your crush’s fantasies.”

It’s nearly too much to process.

She grins. “Have you spoken to him today?”

I shake my head.

I mean, I’ve almost texted him at least fifty times, but no, I haven’t actually texted him.

Nothing seemed quite right.

Thank you for the orgasm last night!

You’re a great sexter!

How ’bout that sexting last night? Pretty awesome, right? Want to do it again tonight?

Delete. Delete. Delete.

But, seriously, what do you say to someone after that?

Fuck if I know.

But apparently, Lena does.

“Phew.” She lets out a giant breath from deep down in her lungs. “Okay, that’s good news.”

My eyebrows draw together, rife with skepticism. “Why is that good news?”

“Because your next text to him cannot, and I mean cannot, be about sexting or anything remotely involving what happened last night.”

Jesus Christ. Why does everything I learn about dating seem like it adds a side to an already impossible-to-solve Rubik’s Cube?

“Then what in the heck do I say?”

“Something really boring and mundane. You need to make him feel like last night was no big deal in your mind.”

The first thing that comes to mind is the email Cassandra Cale sent me this morning. Evidently, I wowed her yesterday—so much so, she didn’t waste any time offering me a job.

“Well…Rainbow Press sent me a job offer… Will that work?”

Lena’s face lights up. “That. Is. Perfect.”

“Okay, so I’ll text him and let him know about the job offer.”

Easy peasy.

“Ah, ah, not so fast, honey,” she responds with a devious smile. “First, the job offer. Then, you’re going to make him sweat a little.”

Make him sweat?

“What?” I tilt my head to the side. “You want me to work out with him?”

“No.” She damn near cackles. “Not actually sweat, but metaphorically sweat.”

I furrow my brow. “I’ll be honest, you lost me back on sweat. I truly have zero clue what you’re talking about at this point.”

“It’s all very simple,” she says and briefly glances over her shoulder to watch Winston rise from the sleeping dead, toss his empty cup into the trash, and walk out the door without uttering a single word.

“You need to make him feel like whatever happened last night is no big deal. Now isn’t the time to be a stage-five clinger. Now is the time to put yourself out there with other men and make it clear to him that you’re not just sitting around and waiting for him to make the next move.”