Billionaires Dollar Series

“This is sad, Porter.” She holds up a half-opened jar of pickles, sitting alone on a shelf. “This is what you live off? I doubt it.”

There’s no way to hide my smile now. She’s stalling, and it’s adorable. “A pickle a day, you know.”

“This is all wrong.” She closes my fridge and moves on to the dining-room table. There’s a bowl of something on a side table-are those decorative lemons?-and she grabs one. “Fake fruit. This is how the rich live?”

“Tell you what, I’ve never noticed those before.”Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

Her mouth turns into a frown. “No wonder you don’t have any food in your fridge. You don’t know how to spot it.”

I’m grinning wide now, reaching her in a few quick strides. “If you want a tour of this place, all you have to do is ask.”

“Will you provide commentary?”

“Not sure I know enough about this place to do that, as you’ve so brilliantly illustrated.”

She slips her hand in mine. The movement is effortless, like we’ve done it before, her skin warm against mine. “Lead the way.”

I pull her through the dining room, heading to the living room and the large central fireplace. “Keep all hands and feet inside the ride at all times,” I say. “And no distracting the driver.”

She tugs at my hand, pulling me to a stop in front of a framed picture on the wall. It’s my mom, sister and me at Blair’s graduation. I’m wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and a suit, looking, as Blair so lovingly put it, “Like a complete jackass.”

“This is your family?”

I rub my neck. “Yeah.”

“Your sister is gorgeous.”

What’s the appropriate response to that? Thanks? “Uh-huh,” I say, wondering if she’ll comment on anything else. This is… well, it’s the kind of conversation that’s decidedly not part of a casual sexual relationship.

But she just gives me a wide smile. “Come on, tour operator. I want to see the bedroom.”

“Wow. All right, but that’s kind of forward, Holland.”

Her eyes widen. “But-”

“No, no, what the lady wants, the lady gets. Even if you’re making me feel cheap.” I pull her forward, her laughter trailing behind us.

“Not my intention!”

“Deny it all you want.”

She steps past me to the bedroom, laughter dying on her lips when she spots the giant bed. Another feature that was already here when I bought it, but not one I’ve complained about.

Her hand slips out of mine as she walks around to the nightstand, finding the book on top of the small pile of reading material. Her hair falls forward, obscuring her face from view. My hand aches to feel it through my fingers.

“Of course you want to see what I’m reading.”

She smiles absentmindedly, turning it over to read the back. “The History of Aviation?”

“Yes.” I reach up to undo my tie, tossing it aside. “You’re stalling again.”

“Maybe I’m just evaluating you. Just because I’m a booty call doesn’t mean I’m a done deal, you know.”

“Evaluating me based on my reading habits?”

She nods, looking through the rest of the pile. I run a hand through my hair and watch in agonized silence as she bites her lip. “Oh,” she says, the sound a soft exhale. “This book is excellent.”

I tug at the collar of my shirt. “This is excruciating.”

“You’re not used to being judged.” Her voice is silky, the same tone she used at the hotel all those weeks ago. Confident and seductive. And seeing her stand so close to my bed…

“Not in the bedroom, no.”

Her lips quirk into a smile. “Poor little developer.”

“You got one word right, there. The last one.”

She puts the books down and turns to me fully. Eyes blazing, she reaches up to the top button in her summer dress. Her quick fingers undo the first one.

“So?” I say, mouth dry. “Did I pass?”

Two more buttons come undone. The white lace of her bra peeks through, the smooth curve of her breasts visible. And her fingers don’t stop, either-soon her flat stomach is revealed. I stay rooted, afraid a sudden movement will make her stop.

“You did,” Skye says, shrugging the dress off. It pools at her feet. “I love it when you look at me like that.”

I drag my gaze up to hers, a Herculean effort. “Oh?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice containing bravery and shyness and want in a heady mixture.

“Then take off that bra, too.”

She bites her lip but obliges, her eyes still on mine. It slides off her arms and then she’s standing in front of me clad in only her panties and her long hair. Delicately curved collarbones. Flared hips. Soft thighs. Freckled breasts with nipples that are already hard.

“Fucking hell.”

Her smile is warm. “Yeah, that’s the look.”

“You know what I like so well already, do you?”

“You’re easy to read.” Skye slides up the bed, her eyes locked on mine-yes, don’t look away-as I reach to unbuckle my belt. Her breath makes a hissing sound as I push my pants and boxers down. It’s difficult, being so painfully hard.

“See?” I say, stroking myself. “All because of you.”

Her beautiful skin flushes, and it races up her cheeks, her neck, down across her chest. It’s one of the first things I’d noticed at the hotel bar. She’d mouthed off to me, but she’d blushed while doing it.

“Come here.” I grip her ankles and pull her roughly to the edge of the bed. She gasps when I grab a hold of her panties and tug them off, down long legs and off one ankle.

Beautiful.