The Billionaire: Forbidden Sex Love

“I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun,” she said, dancing with me, finding our own rhythm. “But I have to tell you something. Whether you want to hear it or not, I just need to get it out.”

She was speaking directly in my ear, and I pulled back to look at her, trying to read her expression, judging where she was going to take this conversation.

“He’s the best.” She paused. “And the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

There was a tightness in my chest, a throbbing reminder that after tomorrow morning, everything would be different.

“Monica …” I shook my head, not knowing what to say.

But I agreed with her.

I just didn’t want to admit it out loud.

I didn’t want to put that kind of weight on the future.

“Don’t fuck this up,” she warned.

I swallowed, staring at my best friend, my heart clutching.

“Promise me?”

I nodded, giving her the best answer I could, and then I wrapped my arm around her and ground my hips against hers, getting her mind back on the music.

But that wasn’t where mine was.

Mine was on Jenner.

“Good morning,” Jenner whispered against my forehead.

I stirred awake as I felt his words move across my skin, my eyes not even having to blink with the sun barely peeking through the long, heavy curtains.

I didn’t know what time we’d eventually crawled into his bed last night, but it wasn’t all that long ago. Once the concert had ended, Jenner’s limo had taken us back to the hotel, and we’d all spent several hours in the bar before Jenner and I came up here.

“Morning,” I grumbled, nuzzling into his neck, trying to find my bearings. Talking this early wasn’t one of my favorite things, but our time together was so limited. I leaned up, checking the clock on his nightstand. “Ugh, I have to leave soon.”

I rested my face against his chest, running my fingers through the small patches of hair, my lids closing as I tried to burn this memory into my head.

How he felt.

The warmth of his skin.

The feel of his body on mine.

Because the moment I left, I didn’t know if I would ever get this back.

Or if I would ever feel this way again.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

But if I kept this as a memory, I could return to it whenever I needed, whenever I missed him.

Even though I already did.

“I’m not looking forward to saying good-bye,” I admitted, regretting it the second I finished speaking. I tilted my face up to look at him. “I just mean, I’ve had so much fun with you.”

His fingers ran across my cheek and into my hair. “You’re the best thing I never expected to find …”

I didn’t know what that meant.

But I liked the sound of it.

His hand lowered to my bare back, where he traced circles over my skin. The sound of his heart pattered against my ear, a drum that made me close my eyes and take in this moment again.

And every one we’d had together so far.

From the second we’d met in the sportsbook to the way he’d brought me up to his suite, the evenings we’d spent in this bed, and last night’s finale.

It had all gone by too fast.

How could I tell him I wanted to relive it all over again, that I wanted things to last beyond Vegas, when what we had was just fun, nothing more? Two people who had hooked up on vacation, and it had been the best sex of my entire life.

I needed to accept that.

To convince myself.

To repeat it in my head until I believed it.

“I should probably get going,” I whispered, pushing myself up, wanting to do just the opposite. “I still have to pack and round up the girls. I’m sure they’re still sleeping off their hangover.”

When Jenner and I had left the group, they had been doing shots in the bar. Something told me today was going to be a challenge in many ways.

He released me, and I got out of bed, finding my dress where I’d left it on the chair. I quickly slipped it on and hurried into the bathroom, taming down my hair and rinsing the smudged makeup from my face. I even took some of Jenner’s toothpaste and finger-brushed it over my teeth. When I came out, he was leaning against one of the chairs in a pair of gray sweats, a bottle of water in his hand, my clutch in the other.

He held the bag in my direction and said, “Come here.”

The second I was within reach, he pulled me against him, holding my face to his chest, like we were back in bed. My eyes closed, and my arms circled around him, gripping him with all my strength.

He kissed the top of my head. “Get home safe.”

I looked up, our eyes meeting, the room now starting to fill with morning light. “Thank you for the most incredible week.”

He pressed his lips to mine.

He never parted them.

He never gave me his tongue.

He just breathed me in, our mouths locked, his hands possessively rolling across my back, my shoulders, moving to my face, where he held my cheeks steady. His palms stayed there, keeping me in place, his thumbs pushing the sides of my lips, like he was trying to get me closer.

But that was impossible.

Not even air was separating us.

When he eventually pulled away, his stare continued to devour me, sending a jolt straight through my body.

“Go,” he demanded. “Before I make you miss your flight.”

I would never forget those words.

I tucked my clutch under my arm, my heart pounding in a way that reminded me of running, the last quarter of a mile when you just wanted to get home.

My throat was tightening.

Emotion was lifting, and I wasn’t sure why.