Billionaires Dollar Series

“If things were different-if I wasn’t me, and you weren’t you-you wouldn’t want to sleep with me again?”

He’s asking the impossible. I push away from the finished bookheart and stand. Waves of power and raw eroticism are wafting off him, and I don’t know if I want to punch him or pull him close.

“That’s a hypothetical,” I say.

“Yes. It is.”

“So it doesn’t matter what the answer is.”

He smiles, like I’ve just confirmed something, and I shake my head at him. “Look, it doesn’t matter. It’s impossible. We’re enemies. Rivals. You’re my nemesis, my least favorite person on earth.”Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Cole runs a hand along his jaw, the playful look in his eyes back. “Huh. I can see how that might be a problem, yes.”

“A small one. It’s not personal.”

“Right, of course not.” He looks like a million bucks, even in the dim lighting of our bookstore reading room. In a different universe he would be the commander of armies, or crowned an Olympic athlete. His smile turns crooked. “Well,” he says. “Have I made you speechless? That must be a first, for you.”

“I’m not.” I unplug the glue gun and roll up the cord with brisk movements. “I was just thinking of how to proceed. I think I might install the heart tomorrow. I’ll need some nails, and a hammer.”

Cole opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a finger and cut him off. “And I don’t need any help. No deliveries. Thanks.”

“So independent.” He runs a hand along his jaw, looking so arrogant that I can’t help pushing the boundaries.

“This must be a new experience for you, huh?”

“Glue-gunning? Yes.”

“Women saying no to you,” I clarify, sitting on the table next to him. Playing with fire again.

“Hmm. You mean that as an insult, but I hear it for the compliment it is.”

Infuriating man. “Tell me, in the spirit of getting to know one another better, is destroying innocent businesses a hobby for you or more of a regular pastime?”

Cole pushes back his chair and stands, forcing me to tilt my head back to see him. “It’s usually just business,” he says. “But in this case, it’s definitely more of a hobby. I made an exception for you.”

I grit my teeth. “Destruction is such a cliché, though, for men. You don’t have some weird Napoleon complex, do you?”

“Hmm. If I remember correctly, that would only work if I was either short, or more crudely, below averagely sized.” He leans in, the scent of linen and man washing over me. “You know that’s false on both accounts.”

“Why are you really here?”

His eyes narrow. “You’ve already figured that out, Skye.”

“So it was that good for you too, huh,” I conclude softly. “You could have any woman you want, and you’re trying to get another night with a lowly bookstore clerk.”

His eyes flit down to my lips. “It was average.”

I scoot closer and watch in triumph as his eyes drift lower, to my body, to where my legs are splayed for him to fit between them. “Average, Porter? You wouldn’t be here if you thought it was anything less than fantastic.”

His hand races up my arm, along my jaw, strong fingers tipping my head back. His eyes look nearly black. “I’ll admit it if you do,” he says.

My knees lock on either side of his waist. “Never.”

He bends to kiss me, but I race to kiss him first, and we collide with a fury. It’s lips and mouths and then, as he slides his tongue against mine, all heat.

My hands on his neck. His around my waist, pulling me closer.

I melt against the hard lengths of his body. Images of him in bed rise up, unbidden, behind my eyelids. How his mouth feels on my skin. How his body moves above mine.

I shiver as he traces his lips down my jaw. A strong hand grips my hair and tilts my head back to give him better access. My neck is my weak spot. Always has been, and Cole seems to remember.

I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on as his lips are followed by the soft scratch of his five-o’clock shadow.

“Damn it,” I growl and pull him back up to my lips. He groans into my mouth, his hands dropping to grip my hips.

I want to get his suit off him. I want to hit him. I want to tear him limb from limb. I want to cry and ask why did it have to be you?

My hands hover above the buttons on his shirt, undecided. He breaks apart long enough to growl a rough taunt against my lips. “Coward.”

I tug at his hair. “Asshole.”

“Since before I met you.”

His hands grip my thighs and I’m pulled closer, until I feel the hardness of him against me.

“Fuck.” His bruising kiss takes my breath away. It’s not like it was the night we slept together at his hotel. That had been a game, step by step, both of us learning and indulging in our shared passion.

This is a wildfire. There’s no finesse to my hands on his neck, or his lips on mine. It’s a fight and we’re both aiming for victory.

I scoot back and flinch as I knock over a pile of books. Cole ignores it, switching his attention to my collarbone.

Books.

Bookstore.

Between the Pages.

I push at his shoulders. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t stop kissing my neck, and my eyes drift half-closed in response. “We’ve done it before.”

“Not when I knew who you were.”

He pulls back, eyes dark and voice darker still. “You wound me.”

“Hah.” I slide off the table, taking a few unstable steps away from him. Fire is still racing in my veins.

He narrows his eyes, and then casually, like nothing has happened, he reaches up to fix the collar of his shirt. “Always a pleasure, Skye.”