Her Billionaires(71)

“No. But they are—hey! One of them is coming over. Thor,” she drooled.

“Not funny.”

“It is when I’m not you, hon.” She nodded behind Laura. Shit. Mike really was walking over here. Covered in food splotches from haphazardly digging into the delights, she wondered if the rest of her was as disheveled. Barely able to look, she forced herself to anyhow. The ratty old sweats that seemed like a good comfort choice at home made her look like Tori Spelling after giving birth. Her hair was shoved into a knotted mess and makeup— what makeup? It had been smeared off long ago. Hell, some of it was probably still on Mike’s torso.

Her mouth watered. And not from the food.

“Hey.” Why did his voice have to have this reaction on her, like a warm breeze on wet skin, her every pore attending to his presence before she even looked back? Why did his tone make her body inhale sharply, every part of her lungs ready to sigh with pleasure at the very thought of his presence?

And why, for the love of all that is holy, was Josie goggling at them both like this was some sort of side show at a carnival?

Oh. Because it was.

“Grab his balls!” Josie’s words made Laura glare, wide-eyed and wild.

“What?” she hissed.

Jumping up, Josie skittered around Mike as if he were a pillar holding up the restaurant. “Hey! Grab his balls!” She ran over to the cardboard cutout and began chatting up Dylan. All Laura heard was a handful of words from Dylan’s sweet mouth:

“...I know, I...”

“...no, the balls weren’t my...”

“...four? No, we never considered...”

and Josie’s rat-a-tat-tat machine-gun fire conversation. Don’t look at him, she told herself, though she could feel him, inches away, the hair on her skin like hundreds of thousands of little clitoral hoods, all aching for him, for release, for this yearning to go away, no matter what.

But especially via his touch. As if on command, his hand touched her shoulder. Involuntarily, she flinched. He pulled back. This dance? Really?

It sucked.

“Hi, Mike,” she said reluctantly. Couldn’t ignore him.

Fluid grace poured into his limbs as he deftly slid into Josie’s space, his movements belying his size. How could he— oh, she knew. Hands eager for connection, she pulled them into her lap, then sat on them, her ass pinning errant fingers in place, knowing damn well what she’d do if she didn’t.

Wait. No. She was supposed to be angry with him. Them.

Everyone.

“Hi.” The shy act wasn’t going to cut it tonight. She went for the throat.

“Stalking me? Isn’t that Dylan’s specialty?” He flinched and winced, then arched one eyebrow and took a deep breath. Target hit. So why didn’t she feel victorious? Instead, her stomach roiled and nausea crept in. Why did he and Dylan have to ruin this? Her one refuge—food and Josie, together—and now what had been the beginning of sorting through threads entangled between the three of them had turned into even more enmeshment, confusion, and hurt.

“No—we—uh—” He gave up, not making eye contact. Eyelids fluttered shut and he splayed his palms on the grooved table top, his right index finger worrying someone’s carved name. Jane. Who had Jane been? Could have been Madge’s mother, for all they knew.

Or one of Mike and Dylan’s lovers.

Using his arms as leverage, he slowly stood, back curling and shoulders flaring, leaning in toward her. When his face tipped up his eyes locked with hers.

“Whatever you think right now, you’re wrong. And when you’re ready to talk, we’ll be there.” One hand reached for her, steady and firm, the touch like tissue paper against a rose petal. An apologetic smile twitched in his lips and the skin beneath his eyes softened.

“We won’t come after you, Laura.” He glanced over at Dylan, who was laughing at Josie, who had removed the warlock waitress’s balls and was teabagging in front of an audience of golfers and hungover college boys. Mike rolled his eyes. “OK, I won’t. Can’t guarantee what Dylan will do.”

“He and Josie seem to have hit it off.”

“Is she twelve inside?”

That made Laura laugh. Bingo. His thumb stroked the underside of her cheekbone and she went liquid, all muscles melting and everything warm became wet. Mike leaned in and softly kissed her temple.

“When you’re ready.”



Was Mike seriously kissing Laura right now? Right now, as Dylan was stuck with her friend, who was mouthing the very balls thousands of people had manhandled for the past decade? The very balls Jill had grabbed and stuck on the warlock in what now felt like another life?