Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1)(83)

“I was just going to point out that your tushy then was nearly as cute as it is now.”

“Kline!” she snapped with a finger in my face.

I threw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold and slapped at said ass.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll pay special attention to it tonight. Especially if there’s lube.”

She shrieked and kicked as I ran up the rest and paused, throwing her to the hallway carpet at the top of the stairs and tickling her sensitive sides.

“Kline! Stop!” Her breath heaved. “Stooooop!”

When I removed my hands, she scurried up and out from underneath me, slapping at my shoulder lightly.

“What is it about being in a childhood home that makes a man act like a child?”

“Fun. Freedom.” I smiled. “Memories.”

“I just bet. Were you a bad boy in your youth, Kline?”

“Nope,” I answered honestly. “As a boy, I didn’t know enough to be bad.” I waggled my eyebrows. “I’m much more convincing now that I’m a man.”

She ran again at that, shrieking the whole way and trying to close her bedroom door between us. I played tug of war with the handle convincingly enough, reserving my full strength in an effort not to hurt her, before finally busting through and tackling her cackling form to the bed.

She turned her head to the left and sighed. “Ah. The condoms.”

I pulled her eyes to mine and touched our lips together softly before rubbing my nose along the line of hers. “We didn’t use one the night that we fought,” I whispered. I hadn’t even thought about it until now, too consumed by lies and love and the complicated mix of the two, but the box on the nightstand brought my oversight into stark relief.

She nodded.

“I’m okay with that in all the ways I can be. Are you?”

She nodded again, and a shiver ran through her body. I pulled her closer.

“I’m on the pill, and I trust you.”

“I’ll do every single thing I can to deserve that, baby,” I promised.

She looked back over to the nightstand.

“I feel like we have to use a condom tonight because my mom put them there.”

“Do you even know what you just said?”

“Kline!”

“Okay.” I laughed. “Just tell her we used our own because she failed to get magnum.”

Her body shook with laughter despite her stern face.

“Get cleaned up for dinner!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed with a wink, sliding my body all the way down hers and pushing my face to the front of her pants.

“Mmm.” I inhaled. “I think I should help you clean up here. I’ll lick up all of my mess,” I promised, pledging my truth with a hand at my chest.

She just shook her head and smiled, sliding a hand into my hair and yanking up on my head. “Go get changed and throw some cold water on your face, you bad man, you.”

I reached into my pants with a grin and adjusted my dick to a more comfortable position.

“I can’t help it, baby,” I teased. “It’s the house’s fault.”

She shook her head again, climbing to her knees and pushing her lips softly to mine. She spoke softly right there. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Keep me.”

“What am I gonna do with me?” she whispered. “So lost in you.”

I squeezed her tight and answered with a prayer.

“Stay there.” Forever.





“Let me show you one of my favorite places in the house,” my father instructed, leading Kline toward the garage. This was another one of his tests.

Hell, he’d been testing my boyfriend all weekend.

There had been the beer test. Dick had offered Miller Lite and Guinness. Kline had chosen Guinness, and my father had patted him on the shoulder, adding, “I’m happy Georgie didn’t bring a light-beer, piss-drinking * into my home.”

There had been the liquor test. Dick had offered him a martini. Kline had politely declined and asked if there was any bourbon or whiskey in the house. Dick’s response: another pat on the back.

There had also been the pizza test. Last night, my mother hadn’t felt like cooking, so Dick had handed Kline a menu from Pappadoro’s—a mom and pop pizza shop up the street—and told him to order a bunch of pies for everyone. Kline had gotten another pat on the back when he ordered three large meat lover’s supremes and cheesy garlic bread.

Sports. Cars. Politics. You name it, and Dick tested. Surprisingly enough, Kline had passed every one with flying colors. How’d I know this? The pat on the back, of course.

We stepped out into the three-car garage, and Kline immediately removed his arm from my shoulder, walking over toward one of my dad’s cars.

“A 428 Cobra Jet Mustang. Wow.” He let out a low whistle, eyeing my father’s car with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. “She’s a beaut.”

“Probably my favorite person in the house.” My father patted him on the back, chuckling.

“Bought her in sixty-eight. She’s in prime condition. Engine was restored a few years ago.”

“Tell me you kept the Low Riser cylinder heads,” Kline added, moving around the car with his hands on his hips, his eyes plastered to the red paint of my father’s most prized possession.