Page 41 of Her Filthy Cold Billionaire Boss

“Sure,” I said, hoping he couldn’t see the aftersex flush on my face.

He sat next to me, close but not touching. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I kept my eyes on the path.

He shrugged. “You just look…different today.”

I nearly choked. “Hungover, probably.”

He watched me, silent, and I knew what he was thinking. I knew, because I’d seen it on his face before; curiosity, frustration, a little bit of hurt. That annoyed and disgusted me.

“I just wanted to say,” he started, then stopped, rubbing his jaw. Then he stopped.

I waited.

“I saw how he looked at you last night, after dinner. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at anyone like that.”

I bit my lip, afraid I might smile. “He’s hard to read.”

“Not really,” Leo said. “Not if you know what to look for.”

“Or maybe he’s worried I’ll spill some state secrets or something.”

He shook his head, then got up. “See you at lunch,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, but he was already gone.

I watched him go, chest tight. Then I checked my phone, reread my friend’s message, and let myself smile.

I was in trouble. Serious, irreversible trouble. The kind that didn’t end well, the kind that left scars.

But for the first time in years, I felt like I was right where I belonged.

And I couldn’t wait for what happened next.

Chapter Ten

Gareth

I tried to act normal, to feel normal. I sat at the table, knowing it was 9:01 a.m. and she was late to breakfast.

Meanwhile, I was staring at the seam where the ceiling met the wall, and trying not to think about the taste of her, the clutch of her thighs, the tremble that ran up her spine just before she broke.

My jaw ached from grinding my teeth. My cock ached from everything else. I’d slept beside her, briefly, and gave up on getting sleep at 5:00 a.m. I gave up any pretense of rest. Beside her, though, I wanted to touch. I memorized her face, took in every inch of her creamy skin, watched the way her eyes moved under her lids and the slight smile that kept twitching at the corners of her mouth as she dreamed.

I wanted to know if she was dreaming of me, of our time together, because I knew it wasn’t leaving my mind any time soon. And I’d had to get up, or I knew I’d wake her with the same needs we’d fallen asleep in the aftermath of last night.

So I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her, I showered, scalding hot, but her scent still lingered. I put on a suit, charcoal, crisp, clean, and glared at my own reflection. The man staring back was pale, hollow-eyed, and looked like he’d spent the night wrestling with wants and needs without resolution.

And I knew why, not that I wanted to admit it one bit. I wanted her until I could get her out of my system. It was a dangerous line of thinking, but it was the truth. I left her a note to join me for breakfast.

At 7:00, I sat down with coffee. The breakfast nook was an architectural afterthought, one narrow floor to ceiling window, two chairs, a marble bistro table, and a built-in bench just wide enough for a cushion.

Most mornings I ate in my office, but today I wanted company. Hers. I wished I’d asked her to come early, but I wanted her to get good rest after our nocturnal activities. No Maribel, no staff, no gossip. Just black coffee for now. When she joined me, I’d have a hard-boiled egg, and a hangover that had nothing to do with drinking. No, it was all because of her.

I glanced at the time. 9:04.

And she came in, a soft smile on her face, fresh clothing in place, hair giving an illusion of being tamed.