Her Billionaires(50)

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. See why I ran? Why I blocked you? I just— we’re so different, and I assumed you just wanted a one-night stand. So I gave you one.”

Now, Dylan. Now. Two more steps and he was there. A hand was all he needed. A hand was all she could handle right now. The soft whisper of his skin against the tightly-woven wool of her jacket’s arm sounded like a Greek chorus of chiding. It was good enough, though.

She glanced at his hand but didn’t shake him off, didn’t step away. Instead, she sighed, a tiny smile on her lips.

“Laura, it’s not like that.”

“And when you pursued me! Wouldn’t stop messaging me and texting me and calling and—Jesus, Dylan, you are persistent!” Her throaty laughter made him harden, his entire body seizing, breath hitching. If he wasn’t careful he’d groan, and the sound might scare her off. Oh, how he ached for her.

Easy, boy. Don’t overplay this.

Using every ounce of restraint he possessed, he leaned in toward her, his hand now stroking her forearm. “You’re worth pursuing.”

Indecision flickered in her eyes. Or was it disbelief? Had it really only been a handful of days since their date? And in the meantime, she’d started dating Mike, had slept with Mike, and now here he was chasing after her. She wouldn’t say a word about Mike; he knew that. And she didn’t have to, because what was he to her right now? Some guy she’d ditched in his bed because she thought he was screwing with her (literally and figuratively) and she left to protect whatever vestige of integrity and self-respect she had deep inside.

Walking out of his apartment in the middle of the night was an act of courage for Laura; he could see that now. It was her way of stepping back from the last bastard who had dallied with her. Dating Mike was an even bigger step, and he felt a rush of mixed emotions overpower him, filling his mind and veins and heart. That she liked Mike gave him tremendous hope. That she was willing to talk to him right now gave him more.

Getting her to accept them both and their unconventional relationship would take something greater, though. Something bold. Something that could cut to her core and transmit a very clear, very safe message that she was amazing and adorable and lovely and—everything they wanted.

Never one to back down from a challenge, and often the guy who took stupid risks, he felt one well up within him right now. Without thinking, he stepped back and put his hands on his hips. “I’m really angry right now.”

She blinked, her face shifting to confusion. “What?” Then the wall came down hard. “At me?”

“No. At all the assholes over the years who have mindfucked you and convinced you that you’re somehow less than amazing.”



Breathe, Laura. Breathe. When Dylan had walked into her office with a batch of flowers she had nearly died on the spot. Died dead. The last person she ever expected to grace the halls of the thirty-second floor at the Stohlman Industries building, Dylan had sauntered in like he owned the place. That was him, though—he walked with such confidence, a natural fluidity and power that said I’m here.

He really was here right now.

Here. In front of her.

Oh, God. Mike.

How could she want both Dylan and Mike? In her dreams she wanted them both, alright—at the same time. Threesome fantasies had become all-pervasive, filling her mind during quarterly accounting meetings, code reviews, train rides and coffee runs and hell—even when she clipped her nails. She couldn’t get these two out of her mind and had found herself not only enjoying Mike more and more, but pining away for Dylan.

Who she had written off as a two-timing douche.

Boy, had she been wrong. Egg on her face and all that. A dead girlfriend? Could she have made a worse call? The light pressure from his hand on her arm felt like a branding burn, his heat so strong it emanated, rays of warmth and fire pouring through the cloth and onto her eager skin. How could his touch—a simple gesture of compassion—fuel so much arousal and deep yearning within her?

Mike.

And what about Mike? They weren’t exclusive, so she didn’t have to feel guilty about these reactions to Dylan, yet she did feel tremendously conflicted, because it was Mike. Nice, amazing, contemplative, easygoing Mike. Sex with him had been mindblowing, too. She couldn’t compare.

Why on earth was she thinking any of this in flashes of a second as Dylan’s eyes undressed her right here, in this drab office, her body moistening and pooling into a heap of hormones and cravings under his soulful eye? That familiar itch between her legs made her nearly groan aloud, for she knew what it meant.