Page 77 of Contract of a Billionaire

“No riding anything under the influence,” I muttered under my breath. “Especially not Alessandro Russo.”

“Too bad.” The deep, smooth timbre of his voice sent a warm shiver down my spine. “I think we’d both enjoy that.”

My fists tightened and I forced myself to loosen my fingers in tandem with my exhale. The things this man did to me.

Just as before, I slowly shifted, aware of his heat against my back. Meeting his gaze was always a shock to my system. It sent adrenaline rushing through my veins along with this constant craving that never eased.

Except when I was around him.

“Has your son never spent the night away from you?” His question came out of left field and for a moment, I stood confused, staring at him.

Your son,he said.Our son,my mind screamed. He was our son. I thought of him as our son. But for the second time this evening, I couldn’t get the admission to leave my lips.

“He has,” I said softly. “He’s spent the night with Branka and my parents. That’s it.” My chest warmed, just as it always did when I thought about Kol. “Kol is quite demanding. Kind of like his father.”

It was the closest to the truth I dared to go. Two heartbeats and Alessio nodded, understanding in his eyes.

“Let’s go to my car,” he finally said, putting his hand on the small of my back and guiding me out the door.

A car already waited for us. Different from his fancy sports car.

“What happened to the other car?” I asked him.

“There’s more room in this car.”

I wondered for what but I didn’t bother asking him. It didn’t really matter.

* * *

The secondI sank into the expensive leather seats, the car door shut and Alessio came around the car. He slid into the driver’s seat with that lethal grace that I used to swoon over.

Not anymore. Yeah, totally not anymore.

The car smelled like him. The spicy cologne and that woodsy smell that I came to associate with only Alessio Russo.

Without a word, Alessio shifted the car into drive and navigated through his lavish driveway, leading him off his property.

He drove steady and controlled. Just as he breathed, talked, and fucked. Yeah, the latter I didn’t really need to remember. I took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled, then cursed myself for being so stupid as to let him drive me home.

That stupid scotch had more alcohol than I anticipated. It didn’t help that I had two glasses of it. Or was it three? At one point, I started dumping the contents of my glass over the rail. Branka was past the stage of noticing.

The urge to touch him was so strong, I had to force myself to keep my hands planted in my lap. I watched his fingers curl around the steering wheel, and my memory latched on to the images of the two of us the last time I felt them on me.

Cambodia. Right before Abu Dhabi.

“We’re going where on that thing?” I asked Alessio, staring at the small motorbike.

“We’re going to see the countryside of Cambodia. In all of its colorful glory,” he answered. He behaved like a country trip through Cambodia was an everyday occurrence. “You said you needed a photo for your blog and you haven’t been able to find it.”

I planted my hands on my hips and leveled Alessio with a glare. “But what about sex? It’s been a whole week.”

His mouth twitched. “We’ll have time for sex.”

I watched him suspiciously. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart and all that.” He roared the Honda to life and grinned wide. My gaze traveled over him. Plain black polo shirt. Jeans. God, he looked good in jeans. And combat boots. “Ready?”

He extended his hand and I laid my fingers into his palm. “I can never resist you in jeans,” I muttered. “That’s the only reason you wore them, isn’t it?”