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At hearing his human’s voice, the cat lifts his head and raises his chin in an “I grant you permission to cuddle” stance.
Gabriel sits on the bed and patiently scratches him under the chin.
“How is he with strangers? Can I pet him?”
Gabriel shrugs. “Worst that happens, he claws your hand off.”
Ignoring the man, I sit on the other side of the bed and talk to the cat. “Hello, beautiful, I’m Blake. Nice to meet you.” I offer him my hand to smell and when he doesn’t bite it off, I pet him. Soon, he starts to purr and goes as far as strolling over into my lap and bumping his head against my chin.
“Traitor,” Gabriel hisses from his corner.
“He clearly has a refined taste in humans.”
Gabriel stands up and takes the cat from me. “Same as his owner.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll feed him a treat so that he’ll give us some privacy.”
“He wouldn’t otherwise?”
“No.” Gabriel cuddles Latte in his arms as if he were holding a baby. In response, my heart jump-starts, my ovaries explode, and my thighs clench. “He thinks of this as his room.”
Indeed.
That night I fall asleep with 200 pounds of muscular naked billionaire half-rolled on top of me and 15 pounds of billionaire’s cat solidly planted on my feet. I’ve never been more uncomfortable and happy in my entire life.
43
GABRIEL
“Where are you going?”
I try to keep Blake from rolling out of bed, but she’s quicker than a cheetah as she hops out from under the covers. Her alarm clock went off five seconds ago—at whatever unholy hour it is. I barely know my name, and there she is, collecting her clothes from the bedroom floor and treating me to a sexy reverse striptease.
“I need to go home before I get to the office.”
After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I can finally see the hands on my watch. “It’s five in the morning,” I protest.
Hopping into her leggings, she counters, “I have a 6.30a.m. class; I need to go home, shower, change, and possibly squeeze in some breakfast.”
“You can shower here.”
She pauses her bunny hopping and cups my face. “I’d love to, but I still need to grab a change of clothes at home.”
I steal a kiss, grab her hand, and drag Blake to the “hers” side of my closet I’ve never used.
Blake stares at the clothes with a slacked jaw. “What is all this?”
I smirk. “Call it the billionaire equivalent of giving you a drawer.”
“You mean you had all this stuff procured for me?”
“Yep.”
She shuffles through the sporty section and turns a few labels inside out. “How do you even know my size?”
I don’t even try to take credit. “Mila has a good eye.”
“And how does she know what bras I wear?”
“An educated guess and perhaps a bit of Instagram stalking.” I hold out a pair of socks to her. “You can freak out about it later. In the meantime…”
