Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1)(80)

“I’m so tired, Georgie,” she whined. “Why won’t you let me sleep?”

“Because I need you to promise you’ll take over my TapNext account.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you love me.”

“Just unsubscribe from the damn thing,” she muttered.

“I don’t want to be a complete * to Ruck. And I felt like you guys hit if off last night.”

“You’re talking about Thatch, right?”

“Yes, Thatch. Your face is the one on my profile anyway. And you can just take over and act like it was you the whole time.”

“This is a little weird, G.”

“I know, but I don’t really know what else to do.”

She was right. It was bordering on insane to have her take over the conversations, but it felt like the best option. That way, Ruck wasn’t left in the dust, and hell, maybe Thatch and Cass would be an interesting little matchup.

I’d just wait to mention all of the random jokes and personal shit I had divulged to Ruck at a later time. Like never. I had a feeling once he started chatting more with my crazy, beautiful, and smart best friend, she’d eventually just be Rose to him, without him knowing there was ever a difference.

It had to work, right?

She was still quiet and I wasn’t sure if she actually fell back asleep or was mulling over her options.

“Cass?”

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed. “Send me your login shit. I’ll message him.”

“Really? Oh my God! You’re the best!” I squealed.

“I’m not doing this for you, Wheorgie. When I said I’d Thatch that, I meant it. I have a feeling that man is a beast in bed.”

“Seriously—” I started to say, but the line clicked in my ear.

A word to the wise: never call Cassie before noon. I was lucky I’d managed to keep her on the phone as long as I had.

I don’t know how long I stood out on Kline’s terrace, elbows resting on the banister, eyes staring off into the distance. I watched the clouds move in, covering the sun and filling the sky with an impending sense of doom. Lightning flashed in the distance.

But the city, it still moved below me, still hustled and bustled and never quit showing off its boisterous personality.

“I missed you in my bed.” Warm arms wrapped around my waist. The smell of his soap and clean laundry and Kline assaulted my senses.

I sighed in contentment, resting my head on his shoulder.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I had to call Cassie,” I admitted, omitting the details about the actual conversation. Even though I still felt guilty about the whole Ruck thing, I decided it was best to leave it in the past. No good would’ve come from me rehashing it with Kline. Because at the end of the day, he was who I wanted. The only man I wanted.

“And now you’re just standing out here, watching the storm roll in?”

“Something like that.”

“God, you smell so good.” His nose was buried in my neck, inhaling for a brief moment, until he rested his chin on my shoulder.

I turned in his arms, interlocking my hands high, around his strong neck.

Playful blue eyes stared back at me. He swept my hair off my shoulder, moving his lips to my neck, and then my ear, cheek, before he leaned back, taking in my attire…or lack thereof. A rogue hand slipped down my side, gripping my thigh. “And you’re standing out here in nothing but my t-shirt. I think you need to come inside, baby.”

My lips found his, placing sweet kisses against his smiling mouth. “Are you trying to have your wicked way with me?”

He slid his fingers up my thigh and brushed across the one place I ached for him. “I’d say I’m not the only one trying in this scenario.” He bit my bottom lip, tugging on it until I moaned. His hands moved to my ass, lifting me up and urging my legs to wrap around his waist. Kline was hard beneath his boxer briefs, and the second he was firmly pressed against me, I whimpered against his mouth. And then, he was kissing me deeper, coaxing my lips open and tangling his tongue with mine.

Candles melted when you lit them.

I melted when Kline Brooks kissed me.

Into. A. Puddle. Of. Pliant. Swoony. Mush.

His mouth was my own personal brand of perfection. Every soft caress of his lips against mine only made me crave him more. I doubted I’d ever get tired of this. Him. Us.

My breathing sped up, his touch sparking every tiny nerve ending inside of me. His hands, God, whenever they were touching me, I was losing my mind.

I shuddered against him.

He felt it, smiling as he kissed me.

Thunder filled the air as the sky opened up and started to pour over the city. The wind caused drops of rain to slide into the terrace and onto us.

He didn’t break our kiss, whispering against my mouth all of the dirty things he wanted to do to me as he did. My hair was wet and his t-shirt stuck to me like a second skin, but I barely noticed, too consumed by him. My hips moved of their own accord, desperate for the hardness he was so graciously offering against me.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled. Yes, he actually growled. I always thought the growl was bullshit, a mythical unicorn put into romance novels, but the guttural noise that came from his lungs proved me wrong.