Tapping Her (Bad Boy Billionaires #1.5)(24)
“Kline—”
“They break my fucking heart, Benny. I can’t think of a scenario where I like to see you cry, but I fucking loathe it when I’m the cause.”
She did her best to stop, as I moved on. The important point wasn’t that she actually stop crying; it was that she knew I wanted her to.
“How often am I right while you’re wrong?” I asked, catching her off guard. I could see at first that she wasn’t sure how to answer, but I prompted her to be honest with gentle eyes and a soft smile.
“Not often.”
Bingo.
“So not often,” I admitted. “I’m completely prepared for the inevitable. With me being the man and you the woman, the rightness ratio in this relationship will always heavily favor you. It’s been the way of the world for centuries, but most guys are too fucking insecure to admit it.” She coughed a surprised giggle. “I’m not. When it comes to you and us, I’m gonna fuck up more often than I’d like.”
She started to shake her head, but I held up a hand to stop her.
“It’s because you make me irrational.”
Her chin jerked back, and her tears were completely gone. I was halfway there. “You’re one of the most clever-minded, rational people I know.”
“In business,” I agreed. “With you, I lose all sense of everything but us.”
She tilted her head, but I pushed on. “Look at my track record. You know it’s true.”
“Kline.” She reached for me, but I started to pace just outside of her range, before turning to face her again and kneeling on the wood floor in front of her feet.
Her hands reached desperately for mine, and this time I didn’t deny them.
“I don’t want to hold you back.”
“I know you don’t,” she cut in.
“You’re brilliant, and you deserve every facet of success you can get your hands on.”
“Baby,” she whispered.
I smiled and reached out to brush some stray hair from her face, pulling her other hand flat to the pounding beat in my chest. My voice dropped to an intimate whisper as I admitted, “But I thought I was going to be along for the ride. I thought your success would flourish with me. At my company.” I shrugged and finished with the part that bothered me most. “That I’d get to watch.”
“Oh, Kline.” She pulled my palm to her lips and kissed it.
“I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re not where you are out of luck or chance. You’re there because you deserve it. You’re tenacious and smart, and God, I’d gotten used to sitting in on shit just so I could see it.”
“I’ve been gone for months now, though,” she pointed out gently. “If that’s really it, why is it just bothering you now?”
I shrugged. “We’re on our honeymoon. Thousands of miles away, just you and me. I know the traveling is coming, and baby, I’m going to miss you, but I’m prepared for it. Really.”
Her brow creased in confusion.
“But I was fully expecting this to be our time. The calm before the storm. You, me, and absolutely nothing else. But it hasn’t been that way. It’s been you, me, and Wes, and I don’t find him nearly as fucking pretty.”
She laughed a little, a barely there smile of realization lifting the unbearable weight from her tiny shoulders.
“I feel a little like your aging wife, and your new job feels like your mistress. Unfortunately, it turns out I’m not above showing up naked in a trench coat in an effort to restore your interest.”
“You’re no aging wife. You run your own multibillion-dollar corporation, for God’s sake.”
“Not here, I don’t. Here, I am nothing but your new husband. And I’ve selfishly been wishing you were here as only my wife.”
“Couldn’t this just be an opportunity to watch me?” she ventured, and I smiled.
“Ben.”
“Ack. Okay. So you’re right. I probably shouldn’t be doing anything while I’m here.”
“Me,” I corrected playfully. “You should be doing nothing but me.”
“Right, right. Don’t worry, I’ve got you marked down on my to-do list.”
“Thank God,” I said with a wink.
“I’ll call Wes and see if he can spare me for the rest of our time here,” she offered.
“Oh, please, let me do it,” I said a little too gleefully.
“No. Come on. He’s your friend, but he’s my boss. At least let me maintain a modicum of professionalism.”
“I think that ship sailed, sweetheart. Back around Sexually-Influenced-Email-Island,” I teased.