The Billionaire and the Virgin (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #1)(39)

“This is crazy,” Violet said, “But have you tried actually telling this man that you like him and want to take things a step further? Because I find that grabbing a guy by the collar and telling him how you feel works wonders.”

“‘You will never do anything in this world without courage,’” Bront? chimed in. “Aristotle.”

“I knew she had one of those in her,” Gretchen said.

“She always does,” Audrey said fondly.

This was as bad as asking Edna and Agnes for advice. “Thanks, ladies,” Marjorie said politely. “You’ve given me a lot to think on.”

Maylee beamed at her from the far end of the table. “When in doubt, blow jobs.”

A chorus of snickers and giggles arose from the table, and Marjorie felt like the only one not in on the joke. She wasn’t going to just grab Rob and give him a blow job . . .

Was she? That seemed awfully like fourth base. Maybe three point five. She just wanted to see what two was like.

Maybe three.

Okay, she probably wanted to see three first.





Chapter Sixteen



Things were going pretty f*cking good with Marjorie, Rob thought as he gazed at her from across the dinner table. She was animated as she told him another tale about another dress fitting and how she’d gotten her dress and it was almost half a foot too short. The bride had panicked and burst into tears, another bridesmaid had yelled at the seamstress, and someone else had gained weight and burst through her dress. Marjorie’s expression was a mixture of amusement and sympathy for the stressed bride, but he had to admit that he wasn’t listening to the story half as much as he was watching her movements. The way that she brushed her hair off her shoulders when she got animated. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about her friends. The graceful curve of her neck. Hell, he was even fascinated with the way her throat moved when she swallowed her drink.

He’d never been this bad over a woman before. Never.

What was f*cking ironic was that he was okay with her being a virgin. He knew it going in, and he’d figured that he’d wine and dine her, seduce her into giving up her V-card, and then forget all about her. But the more time he spent with Marjorie . . . the more it didn’t matter. Having her comfortable with him, seeing her laugh and her animated smiles was worth so much more than pushing her to have sex just so he could get his rocks off.

Not that his rocks didn’t want to get off. They did. It was just that . . . Marjorie was more important. He could wait a month or two, or three. However long it took for her to be ready.

Marjorie was his. He knew her time here at the resort was growing limited, and he was working on a plan to see her again after the resort.

He just had to figure out a way to bring up who he was and what he did for a living.

It still amazed Rob that they’d known each other for a week and she hadn’t once googled him to find information out about him. She . . . trusted him. And that was both humbling and terrifying.

And it made him even more determined not to f*ck things up by being his usual self.

“Rob? Are you listening?” Her brilliant smile faltered slightly.

“I am,” he lied, and then took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “I was just a bit distracted watching you.”

Her cheeks pinked in that adorable way. “Watching me?”

“It’s my favorite pastime. I f*cking love watching you.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she smiled.

“So . . . when is the wedding?” he asked. “Has to be soon, right?” After all, his crew had already filmed two episodes’ worth of footage for Tits or GTFO in this week, and it hadn’t flushed Logan Hawkings out of hiding just yet. Rob was running out of opportunities.

Strange how thinking of his original motive for coming to Seaturtle Cay made him feel guilty. Marjorie would hate him if she knew the truth. He shouldn’t have hidden who he was, but he felt cornered; he didn’t have a choice. If she knew the truth, she’d loathe him. So he kept his mouth shut and pretended to simply be a run-of-the-mill business guy on a business trip.

And Marjorie was so trusting that she believed every word of it.

“The wedding?” Her expression dimmed a little. “It’s in three days.”

He rubbed his thumb over her hand, enjoying the simple act of touching her. “You don’t seem thrilled.”

“It’s not that. I’m ready to go to New York and start my new life. And I’m excited for Bront? and Logan.” Her smile returned, but it didn’t have the spark he was used to. “I just, well. I’m not ready for this week to be over yet.”

“I know the feeling.” Christ. Her upcoming job in New York was going to be another kink in his plans. Bad enough that he lived in California and only flew in to New York for business. How could he date Marjorie when she spent every minute with Bront?, as her assistant? She was sure to get her ears filled with tales of how awful he was.

Briefly, he contemplated somehow sabotaging the job offer that Bront? had extended . . . but then discarded the thought. Even he wasn’t that big of a dick. It’d be selfish to ruin Marjorie’s life just because he wanted her all to himself for a bit longer.

A mischievous look crossed her face and she got up from her chair. “Come on.”