Page 66
Story: Resisting the Billionaire
He shrugs, taking a seat on the couch. “It’s fine.”
Fine? I would kill for somewhere like this. Along with every other New Yorker.
He laughs at whatever expression must be on my face. “What do I need with all this space?” he asks, holding his arms out wide. “The whole thing is extravagant.”
“I thought you wanted to keep your father’s money.”
“I do, but-”
I wait a moment for him to finish, but he doesn’t. “But what?”
“It just… doesn’t seem as important as it did when I first agreed to all this.”
I feel like he’s trying to communicate something with his eyes to me, but I’m not quite sure what it is. “But your family still is, right? Your younger brother?”
“Right,” he nods slowly. “I wouldn’t want to put him in a weird position. Or Archer, even.”
I fiddle with the tie of my dress. “What are we watching tonight?”
“Ladies choice,” he smiles, grabbing the remote off the coffee table to turn on the TV, the mood shifting to something more light-hearted.
I pick pretty much the first thing that pops up on Netflix, not caring what it is, and as the opening credits begin, I’m barely able to pay attention.
Are we really only watching a movie? Not that I’m planning on sleeping with him, that’s a firm line I won’t cross. But what is he thinking?
I glance over at him from the corner of my eye, his gaze trained on the television. I guess we really are watching it.
No, that’s good. That’s what we should be doing. I relax into the cushions, finally focusing on what I picked. A romantic drama. Great.
Two hours and a bowl of popcorn later, I’m somehow snuggled into his side, his arm around my shoulder. I swear I don’t even remember getting in this position. It just kind of… happened. But there’s something so comfortable, so right about it, it hardly seems a big deal at all.
As the movie ends, he picks up the remote and shuts off the TV, moonlight filtering in through the windows to cast a dim light upon us, enough to see him with, shadowed and serious.
The hand on my shoulder moves, Gabriel silent as he plays with the tips of my hair, working his fingers through the loose curls till he strokes my scalp, sending shivers through me. I let him massage the nape of my neck, enjoying his touch even as the rational part of my brain screams this isn’t a good idea.
“Don’t think about it,” he whispers, like he knows the direction my thoughts are taking. “I’m not touching you anywhere wrong.”
His hand continues that way for a few more moments before it drifts softly across my upper back and down my other arm, our fingers briefly intertwining.
“Holding hands isn’t wrong?” I whisper back.
“It’s innocent.” He moves down further. “Your arm, your hand, your lower leg.” His hand trails south to my ankle, slowly skimming up to my knee, flirting with the hem of my dress. “Those are all places a friend would touch. Perfectly respectable.”
His hand lingers on my knee, fiddling with the hem, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do.
I should stop him. We both know there’s nothing friendly about his touch. He radiates desirous intent, even if he’s not acting on it. But as my stomach dips low in anticipation, any kind of protest dies in my throat. I can’t deny I didn’t suspect something like this would happen tonight. It’s only a matter of how far we’re willing to take it.
“Do you have any idea how bad I want to continue up?” he pants lightly, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “To find out what heaven feels like right under that dress?”
I swallow, my panties dampening, picturing him doing just that. I squeeze my inner thighs together tightly to contain the lust running rampant through me, my heart picking up in speed.
“But you’re a good girl. You’d never do something that bad.” He removes his hand, the loss of him turning me cold, still filled with arousal. The inner voice screaming earlier this isn’t a good idea is now screaming for more of him.
He’s right, though. He can’t touch me like that.
But that doesn’t mean… I can’t touch me.
My fingers tremble as they drift down to the same spot on my knee, and slowly draw the bottom of my dress up, revealing my thighs.
Fine? I would kill for somewhere like this. Along with every other New Yorker.
He laughs at whatever expression must be on my face. “What do I need with all this space?” he asks, holding his arms out wide. “The whole thing is extravagant.”
“I thought you wanted to keep your father’s money.”
“I do, but-”
I wait a moment for him to finish, but he doesn’t. “But what?”
“It just… doesn’t seem as important as it did when I first agreed to all this.”
I feel like he’s trying to communicate something with his eyes to me, but I’m not quite sure what it is. “But your family still is, right? Your younger brother?”
“Right,” he nods slowly. “I wouldn’t want to put him in a weird position. Or Archer, even.”
I fiddle with the tie of my dress. “What are we watching tonight?”
“Ladies choice,” he smiles, grabbing the remote off the coffee table to turn on the TV, the mood shifting to something more light-hearted.
I pick pretty much the first thing that pops up on Netflix, not caring what it is, and as the opening credits begin, I’m barely able to pay attention.
Are we really only watching a movie? Not that I’m planning on sleeping with him, that’s a firm line I won’t cross. But what is he thinking?
I glance over at him from the corner of my eye, his gaze trained on the television. I guess we really are watching it.
No, that’s good. That’s what we should be doing. I relax into the cushions, finally focusing on what I picked. A romantic drama. Great.
Two hours and a bowl of popcorn later, I’m somehow snuggled into his side, his arm around my shoulder. I swear I don’t even remember getting in this position. It just kind of… happened. But there’s something so comfortable, so right about it, it hardly seems a big deal at all.
As the movie ends, he picks up the remote and shuts off the TV, moonlight filtering in through the windows to cast a dim light upon us, enough to see him with, shadowed and serious.
The hand on my shoulder moves, Gabriel silent as he plays with the tips of my hair, working his fingers through the loose curls till he strokes my scalp, sending shivers through me. I let him massage the nape of my neck, enjoying his touch even as the rational part of my brain screams this isn’t a good idea.
“Don’t think about it,” he whispers, like he knows the direction my thoughts are taking. “I’m not touching you anywhere wrong.”
His hand continues that way for a few more moments before it drifts softly across my upper back and down my other arm, our fingers briefly intertwining.
“Holding hands isn’t wrong?” I whisper back.
“It’s innocent.” He moves down further. “Your arm, your hand, your lower leg.” His hand trails south to my ankle, slowly skimming up to my knee, flirting with the hem of my dress. “Those are all places a friend would touch. Perfectly respectable.”
His hand lingers on my knee, fiddling with the hem, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do.
I should stop him. We both know there’s nothing friendly about his touch. He radiates desirous intent, even if he’s not acting on it. But as my stomach dips low in anticipation, any kind of protest dies in my throat. I can’t deny I didn’t suspect something like this would happen tonight. It’s only a matter of how far we’re willing to take it.
“Do you have any idea how bad I want to continue up?” he pants lightly, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “To find out what heaven feels like right under that dress?”
I swallow, my panties dampening, picturing him doing just that. I squeeze my inner thighs together tightly to contain the lust running rampant through me, my heart picking up in speed.
“But you’re a good girl. You’d never do something that bad.” He removes his hand, the loss of him turning me cold, still filled with arousal. The inner voice screaming earlier this isn’t a good idea is now screaming for more of him.
He’s right, though. He can’t touch me like that.
But that doesn’t mean… I can’t touch me.
My fingers tremble as they drift down to the same spot on my knee, and slowly draw the bottom of my dress up, revealing my thighs.
Table of Contents
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