The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(23)

“Dimples, whatever you’re offering to stroke, I’m in.”

The quip should have earned him a slap, or at least a heel-pivot and a march straight for the door. She should be hoisting her middle finger in the air and leaving. But instead she laughed. Again.

“Don’t look offended,” he said around an impermeable grin. “I was talking about my hair.”

“Yeah, right.” She crossed her arms protectively. She’d die before she admitted it, but the thought had crossed her mind. “Because alllll I want is to run my fingers through your luxurious manly mane of hair.”

Arguing with him was her only defense at this point. He emitted testosterone like a mind-altering drug.

He didn’t look the least bit insulted as he prowled—yes, prowled—to her. She cleared her throat. Backed up one step, then another.

“I’m not into players. An-and I know that’s what you are.” Another step back and her ass collided with the back of the sofa. She reached behind her to grasp the edge.

Tag stood no farther than a foot away, his expression animal, his body making her forget her own name. All that bared skin…

He kept coming, dipping his head to take some of the inches off his height.

“You’re into me,” he stated.

“Am not,” she choked out. Barely.

“Touch me,” he said. A simple request.

“What?” Her heart hammered against her ribs, reminding her how she wasn’t ready for this moment. Maybe in the future with some harmless, neutral guy who made her feel attraction instead of chest-exploding anxiety.

“I want you to touch me. You’ve been eating me alive with your eyes since I opened my door. You look at me like you’re shopping for something you can’t afford.”

“I can’t afford you.” Her confession was a whisper. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It was too honest. Too revealing. Wasn’t she supposed to be protecting herself after she’d been thoroughly let down? She hadn’t meant to stand frozen while he made demands. Inappropriate demands. Then she remembered Bree’s advice from yesterday.

Why not let yourself have some fun, Rach? He looks fun.

Her eyes danced over his rounded shoulders and pecs, rock-hard abs and narrow hips. He did look fun. He looked like a damn carnival ride.

“You’re doing it again,” he accused, and this time she didn’t argue, because she was busted. “Touch me.”

She should say no but heard herself whisper, “Where?”

He shrugged one round shoulder. “Anywhere you want.”

She licked her lips, swallowing thickly and watching as if an observing outsider as her fingers breached the gap between their bodies. Then she did what she’d imagined a few seconds ago and touched his ab muscles with the tips of her first three fingers where his smooth, slick flesh was stretched over hard muscle. Slowly, she brushed along the second bump, then the third. Ran her index finger around his belly button and the wiry hair surrounding it, then dragged her blunt nails the opposite direction up his right side.

When she’d reached the end of her exploration, she hesitantly lifted her face to his chest and saw it expand with one huge breath. Despite the fact she was terrified to look, she met his eyes next and was nearly floored by the responding heat she found there.

Snow fell rapidly outside Tag’s windows, but between them it was Florida in July. An active volcano. The buzz in the air between them shook her bones. Jetting from her spine to her breasts and lingering in the space between her legs.

She wondered about the space between Tag’s legs, and with a great amount of effort avoided checking the front of his sweatpants for signs she wasn’t alone in her attraction.

But she wasn’t alone.

She could see it in his expression. Sense it in his barely controlled posture.

“Have your fill?” he asked, his voice a thick, lust-filled growl.

Not even close.

“Yes. Sorry. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She slipped away, half surprised Tag didn’t grab her arm, pull her back, and kiss her. Or maybe press her against the door and kiss her. Or throw her on the couch and kiss her.

Wow. She’d take all three.

“Dimples,” he called as she jerked the door open.

“Yes?” she asked without turning, her eyes on the patterned carpet leading to the elevator. To freedom.

“I was serious about needing your help.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t turn. She simply nodded, then shut the door behind her, slamming a palm into the elevator button and praying to God Tag didn’t come out to wait with her. At this point, she didn’t trust herself not to lunge at him and have some of the fun she’d been imagining.

When the elevator took its time, she opted for the stairwell. She jogged down to the next floor, working off some of the unfulfilled desire hammering her bloodstream and arriving at her safe haven to a Great Dane with pale gray eyes.

That was a close one.

Too close.





Chapter 7



It was an early night for Rachel, and she was relieved to be home before two in the morning. She hadn’t been home before ten in a while.

In the swanky lobby of Crane Tower, she inhaled the fresh, floral smell that likely came from the vases of real flowers dotting the room. She hadn’t spent much time down here but had noticed as she passed through how residents often loitered in the swanky space. Especially in the evenings.