Page 6 of The Billionaire's Secret Heart

That was one of the things I liked about Josephine. It was clear she had no idea who I was. She was an innocent, her blue eyes wide as she'd walked into Mana with her dip-shit date. She'd caught my attention the second she crossed the threshold, and not just because I'd been bored and annoyed with Tate's date for the night.

Josephine had easily been the most beautiful woman there. That body. Fuck. Her dress had been elegant and sexy, but not blatant. On a different woman, the dress might have even been subdued. Not on Josephine. Her body was all curves, from her shapely legs to her round ass to her luscious tits. I could have spent all day worshipping those tits. She had pale skin for a blonde. When she'd been naked, spread out on the marble of my kitchen island, she'd been a lush work of art, straight out of the Renaissance.

Fucking gorgeous. I'd wanted to smack her date when he'd made a comment about her weight. Calling him a moron was an insult to morons. How he could look at a body like Josephine's and think she needed to change a God dammed thing was beyond me. Everything about her was perfect.

And her pussy. At the thought of her pussy, my mouth watered and my cock came to full attention. God damn, she'd had the tightest, sweetest pussy I'd fucked in as long as I could remember. The way she came for me, so easily, her cunt scalding hot and clenching down on my cock as she'd screamed.

Fuck.

It started to hit me that she was really gone. I'd never wanted to see a hookup the next day. I was usually the one sneaking out. I would have thought I'd be grateful the girl I'd picked up had taken off. If it had been any other girl, I would have been. But I'd fallen asleep with the taste of Josephine in my mouth, and waking up alone sucked. I didn't even know her last name.

Irritation flooded through me, and I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the shower, half-hoping I'd turn out to be wrong and she'd still be around somewhere. When I emerged from the shower to the scent of freshly brewed coffee, I was a little embarrassed at the surge of eagerness in my chest. Maybe I'd been wrong, and she was still here.

The look on my face when I saw Tate sitting at my kitchen island must have been amusing, because he laughed and said, "What, expecting someone else?"

I pulled up a stool and sat at the island, hunched over my elbows, suddenly cranky, hungry, and wishing I were alone.

"Fuck you," I said without heat. "How is it that you constantly lose your keys, but you always manage to unlockmydoor?"

A full, steaming mug of coffee slid under my nose. I picked it up and took a sip, the taste of fresh coffee chasing away some of the cobwebs.

"So," Tate said, waiting until I'd finished most of my first cup. "Spill. Where's the girl? Don't tell me you didn't break your rule and bring her back here. I saw that kiss. If you weren't a legend with the staff before, you are now."

"Fuck you," I repeated, knowing I'd end up telling Tate everything. Not quite everything. He didn't need to know the details of how amazing Josephine was. If I ever managed to track her down, I didn't want competition from my cousin. Not that he would do that to me. Shit, I was in a bad mood.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me everything," he said. I let out a sigh and finished my coffee.

"Tell me you brought food," I grumbled, getting up to refill my mug from the vacuum carafe on the counter.

"In the oven," Tate said, sliding his mug toward me. I poured his coffee and opened the oven door. The scents of bread, cheese, and bacon wafted out, and my stomach growled. The coffee house downstairs not only had fantastic coffee, but they made amazing breakfast sandwiches. Since we lived on the tenth floor and had our offices on the fourth, Tate and I ate there a lot. I grabbed an oven mitt and retrieved our breakfast. Ignoring Tate, I sat back on my stool and dug in. He did the same.

"At least tell me you broke your rule and brought her home," Tate said when he was done. I swallowed the last bite of my sandwich and brushed my hands off on my jeans, finally feeling awake.

"I did," I admitted. Tate let out a shout of glee.

"I knew it. How was she?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "She looked wound tight, but sometimes, those are the best when you get them naked."

I stayed silent. Tate wasn't trying to be an asshole. We didn't go into extreme detail about the women we fucked, but we were tight, and we had more than our share of hookups. Normally, I'd say something like,she was fuckin' amazing, he'd say,right on, and we'd change the subject.

I opened my mouth to play the game and found the words stuck in my throat. For the first time in my life, I understood whatfucking amazingtruly meant. Josephine had been the best fuck of my life because it was more than a fuck. I don't know how, since I barely knew her, but last night had been more than just sex. I dropped my head to stare at the marble countertop. Fuck.

"What?" Tate asked. "Don't tell me it was bad. I saw that kiss. Half the girls in the room were wet by the time you left. She was hot as fuck."

Yeah, she was. I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it. Finally, I said, "She was perfect, and when I woke up this morning, she was gone."

Tate stared at me, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. After a pause, he recovered from his shock and said carefully, "And this is a problem?"

"Yes," I said, my voice tight, eyes still on the counter. "This is a problem. She snuck out in the middle of the night. I don't have her last name, her number, anything."

Tate shrugged. "Does it matter? It was just a hook-up, right? I can't imagine you had that much time to talk."

"We didn't do a lot of talking," I admitted. We hadn't. So why did I care that she'd taken off? Because the sex was that good? It had been, but was that enough of a reason to go chasing after some girl? "I still want to find her," I said.

"You sure?" Tate asked. "We'll track her down if you want to, but think about it first. Do you really want to get yourself tied up in knots over some girl? What are the chances this is going to be anything other than just sex?"

I pushed off my stool and paced the kitchen, letting Tate's words run through my head. I knew what he was getting at. Winters men did not have good luck with relationships. Only one of us, my oldest brother, Aiden, had been married, and he was two years divorced at thirty-two. We were notorious: wealthy, powerful, and cursed. Love was a complication every one of us had avoided. Even Aiden had married more for practicality than any emotion.

My night with Josephine had been spectacular, but let's be honest. I could get sex—amazing sex—any time I wanted it. What was so special abouther? I barely knew her. I definitely didn't know her well enough to risk opening myself up to the pain of a relationship. All of us had been through too much loss too young. We played things loose as adults. Winters men worked hard, had fun, and were loyal only to each other. It kept us safe and whole. If I were smart, I'd forget about Josephine, chalk the night up to a great memory, and move on.