Not Husband Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 1)

I pushed back, attempting to read his expression. He didn’t think it was funny, I could tell. The wine had lulled me into thinking we were closer than we were. That I could suddenly rib him when I had crossed a line I shouldn’t have.

“You’re exactly right. It’s not a movie. It’s my fucking life.”

I sat up, startled into sobriety for a brief second.

“I’m afraid your romantic comedy isn’t going to have a happy ending.” He cocked his head to the side. “No beautiful love song for the rolling credits at the end of this story.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Hell. Because I’m not going through with it. I told you. I’m not husband material.”

I felt the full weight of his gaze. Was he looking at my lips? Tracing them with those sparkly blue eyes?

Something fluttered in my stomach. Something I hadn’t recognized in a long time.

“Doesn’t seem that bad. A little family for all that money? Girls will line up. You could interview for the position. Who wouldn’t want to marry you?” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood again. “You are Jeremy Hartwell. Everyone in this town loves you. I think you could have a nice life to go along with all that money.”

“It’s not going to happen. I’m not interested in having a wife. Or being a father.” His thumb raked across my bottom lip. I inhaled. Was this happening? He touched me like each move had a purpose to get to the next. There was no accident in our closeness.

I kept talking nervously. “It can’t be that bad. You’re a nice guy. At least you don’t seem like you turned into an ax murderer or anything since we graduated.”

He chuckled. “I hope you haven’t painted me as the good guy next door.”

I swallowed. “No.”

“Good, because I don’t know who he is anymore.”

I wanted to hear more about his crisis. I did. Clearly, he was in pain. He was driving off a cliff after the will reading today. Why else had he spent six hours getting drunk in the corner booth? But my brain shut down and my body turned on, the instant he brushed his lips against mine.

God, he had incredible lips. Soft yet firm. Dangerous as fire.

He cupped my jaw, dragging his mouth over mine with possessive force. I fell into his arms, drinking the wine from his tongue.

Our lips melted together. Our tongues tangled. Our hands were everywhere.

Jeremy’s fingers slid under my shirt. I groaned when he squeezed my breast. It felt so good. As if I hadn’t had a man’s hand on me in months. Damn. It had been almost two years. I wiggled into his lap, straddling him. Eager to press my body into his. Ready to feel the warmth of another person.

“Shit, Evie. You’re hot all grown up.” He grinned, pulling me toward him for another searing kiss.

My hips rolled toward him and I froze, feeling just how hard I made him. We shouldn’t be doing this. Nothing good could come from this.

I broke away. I tried to catch my breath.

“Is there somewhere we can go?” he asked.

My breasts rose and fell as I gasped for air. He had completely misunderstood me. I stopped because what we were about to do was wrong. I wasn’t emotionally built for a one-night stand. I was hardly built for fly-by kisses, even though I had already given in to his.

“Come on, Evie. Let’s see where this night takes us.” He kissed along my throat and I heard a tiny moan escape my lips.

This was the part where I was supposed to tell him what I was thinking. That there was no reason we should hook up now. Two people who sat next to each other in high school English. He should leave for the airport and cool off in the snow. He needed to take that infamous steel rod of his and ice it down.

“I have an office downstairs,” I answered.

“Let’s go.” He winked, and pushed me out of the booth.

There was fire racing through my veins. My pulse thumped loudly. I walked to the cellar door, propelled by an indescribable need to discover for myself why so many girls chose Jeremy as the one to give their virginity to. I could excuse this as discovery research. Was he the greatest lover to ever walk Newton Hills’ streets?

He followed closely, touching my hip and the silhouette of my waist as we descended the stairs. I thought I felt his breath on my neck. The steps were barely visible in the red glow from the restaurant’s first floor.