Page 28 of Don’t Fall for the Billionaire

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ashton

We never made it to dinner.

My fingertips traced her torso, feeling each goosebump that rose in their wake.

Her thighs tensed against my shoulders, fingers tangled through my hair, as I devoured her until she orgasmed.

When I finally thrust into her, our time narrowed to just this, her nails digging into my back, the meshing of our skin, and the way she whispered my name as if she was telling a secret.

I took her every which way I could—front, back, sideways, until I exploded inside her.

After, I collapsed beside her, my pulse pounding in my ears and my lungs struggling for air.

I turned my head and looked at her as she rolled on her side, staring at me with a smile that always brightened my days.

“Are you okay?” I smirked.

“I’m wonderful.” A smile crossed her lips as her fingers traced patterns across my chest.

Her touch was both comforting and terrifying. I placed my arm behind my head and stared up at the ceiling.

“You’re thinking too loud.” Her lips pressed against my shoulder.

“I’m just processing.”

She lifted her head and stared at me as if she were searching for my soul. “Processing what?”

Her question hung between us like a challenge. If only I could deflect, make a joke, or shut down completely like I’d done countless times before with numerous women. But Charlotte wasn’t like the others. That was the problem.

“Just work stuff. I have an important meeting on Monday to strike a multi-million-dollar deal.”

“You’ll pull it off.” She smiled.

“Maybe.” I sighed, hooking my arm around her.

This was supposed to be simple. Uncomplicated. But somewhere between our first kiss and this moment, all the lines had blurred, and I was afraid there was no coming back.

A nightmare had me in its grip. I was a child, around eight or nine years old, and my parents were arguing.

Glasses being thrown were the norm, and with each crash, I flinched.

The shouting, name-calling, and my mother’s cries.

I never wanted to relive those days, but here I was, trapped in this stupid nightmare, unable to wake up, no matter how hard I tried.

“Ashton. Ashton, wake up,” I heard Charlotte’s voice in the distance.

My eyes flew open as she hovered over me. “You were having a nightmare,” she said.

“I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

“But—”

“I said go back to sleep,” I commanded and rolled over.

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds.

The war inside me was stronger than ever since that nightmare last night.

Charlotte stirred beside me. As I stared at her, nothing existed but her warmth, her laughter, and the feeling when her skin touched mine.

But reality crashed in, like strangers crashing a party they didn’t belong at—the memories I couldn’t outrun.

I felt like I was that little boy again in a house that was once filled with love and that had rotted into pure hatred. I would not repeat their story.

I climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and went downstairs for a cup of coffee. I needed to think alone before she woke up. She entered the kitchen with a smile, her hair messy from sleeping.

“Good morning,” she said, walking over to the Nespresso machine.

“Morning,” I mumbled. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Don’t worry. It was the need to pee that woke me.”

I needed to get this over with. If I put it off, I might not have done it. But I needed to at least wait until she had some coffee in her.

“Do you want breakfast?” she asked.

“No. I’m not hungry,” I said, my tone cold and flat.

“Is something wrong?” She took her coffee and sat at the island.

I couldn’t look at her. I’d done this a million times with other women, and it was easy. But with her, it hurt.

“We can’t do this anymore, Charlotte. You and me, the sex. It has to end.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“Because it has to, Charlotte.”

“If this is because of your parents?—”

“It’s not! I woke up, Charlotte. You’re my nanny. I’m your employer. It’s wrong. I knew it but ignored it.”

“You’re not your father, Ashton!” she snapped. “Don’t lie to me and tell me this has nothing to do with them!”

Her words sliced through me. I wanted to believe her. God, I really did. But my fears were louder than my beliefs.

I shook my head and set my coffee cup on the island. “It doesn’t matter. This ends now. You’ll continue your job as Eloise’s nanny, and that’s it.” I walked out of the kitchen, and with every step I took, I felt like I was breaking apart.

Charlotte

The heaviness in my chest was unbearable as tears streamed down my face. Getting up, I went to my bedroom and took a shower. As the hot water streamed over me, my heart ached, and every breath I took was sharp and painful. But beneath the pain was something even sharper: anger.

He wanted to erase everything we shared as if it had never happened.

But I would never forget the way he’d kiss me like he needed it to stay alive.

The way he held me was like he was terrified to let go.

I cupped my face in my hands and cried as I sank to the shower floor.

The only thing Ashton Cross was proving was that he was too scared to admit he was in love with me.

Because he was. I knew it. He knew it. If he wanted to put an end to having sex because he couldn’t handle his feelings, fine.

I already knew this wasn’t about me. It was about him and his fears.

It wasn’t personal, and somehow, I knew that.

Standing up, I wiped my eyes, finished showering, and got dressed for the day.

A part of me wanted to pack my things and get the hell out of here, but I couldn’t do that.

Eloise already had my heart, and I wouldn’t do that to her.

I’d have to find a way to manage living in the same house as him and avoid him at all costs.

I grabbed my purse. Halfway down the stairs, Ashton’s voice cut through the silence in the house.

“Where are you going?”

“Since Eloise is with your mom, there’s no reason for me to stay here all day. So where I go, what I do, isn’t your business.”

“Come on, Charlotte. Don’t be like that.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Like what? Like a woman who was just told she isn’t worth the risk? Who was good enough for your bed but not your heart? Don’t you dare tell me how to feel.” I shook my head, for I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

He didn’t have a reply. He just stood there, staring at me. I held his gaze longer than I should have, continued down the stairs, and out the front door. If he wanted distance, I’d give it to him. But he was going to feel every inch of it.