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But a billionaire?
Hard no.
“And that’s why you’re leaving in a few months,” I whispered, putting the last piece together. “It’s when the build-out will be done.”
“Yes.” He pulled his hand down until it was cupping my cheek.
“You’re Macon Spade.” The second the words left my lips, a mouth he’d just stroked with his thumb, I wished I’d stayed silent.
I didn’t need the validation; I believed him. But when he gave it to me by nodding, he sealed everything I’d suspected.
We weren’t meant for each other.
Not even by a small percentage.
I pushed myself up, leaning my back into the headboard, bringing the blanket with me so it covered my whole chest. I wasn’t going to act affected. I was going to let this morning play out, and then hopefully, I would never run into Macon again.
Despite how much I loved the escape he’d given me … as much as I obsessed over his tongue …
I couldn’t have it again.
“I hear it’s going to be a beautiful resort. At least from what I’ve seen so far it is.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I drive by it on my way home almost every day.”
He bent his elbow, resting his face on his palm. “Would you like a tour? Since I might know someone who could make that happen.” His free hand slithered down my stomach.
Why did his caresses feel so good?
Why did he immediately make me wet?
Ugh.
“Maybe,” I replied.
“We can stop there after breakfast.”
“About breakfast—” I started, realizing I’d spoken without thinking and I had no idea what excuse I was going to give. Except all I had been doing was thinking. My mind was on fast-forward—a speed that was so jarring that I wanted to rewind to an hour ago when I hadn’t known he was a Spade or how many bags of money he had. “I”—I cleared my throat—“unfortunately, have a paper due by noon.” And just as my mouth closed, I remembered I’d told him I was going to the beach.Shit.“Which I plan to write at the beach.” It wasn’t a lie. I did have a paper and a project to finish. I was just going to do them after I spent a little time on the sand. “I need every second I can get, you know? And if you come to the beach with me”—something he hadn’t suggested, but I needed to cover all the bases—“we both know I won’t get a single word written.”
His finger rose over the blanket, sliding the covering down so he could paint a thin line under my breast.
My nipple hardened.
He noticed … he was watching.
His expression told me he’d expected this reaction, along with the one that was happening between my legs. He had this wild, uncanny ability to know what was going on inside my body without even touching me.
Maybe that was because, like the first time we’d been together, I wasn’t able to hide how I was feeling.
My breathing had sped up, the same way it was doing now.
My chest rising as fast as it was falling.
My back arched, urging him down, down, down.
No.
This needed to stop. My thoughts, his actions—all of it.
I set my hand on top of his. “We need to get going.” When his eyes changed, I added, “To the club,I mean, so I can get my car and a spot at the beach before it gets too crowded.”
