Page 21 of Filthy Rich Daddies

She snorts as she laughs, and it’s precious. “Sorry. But I think it’s sweet that you like those movies. Favorite food?”

We linger, trading biography fragments. I confess I ran away to join a commune for exactly forty-eight hours at nineteen before Dad’s head of security retrieved me. She wheezes laughing. I promise to tell the full story tomorrow if she explains how she once rescued a hamster in her dorm bathtub—which prompts a horror-amazed retelling that makes me snort hot chocolate out my nose.

Where has this girl been my whole life?

Time warps. The moon arcs lower, and downtown traffic thins to random pulses. My phone buzzes—but I mute the notification, unwilling to let the outside world breach the bubble.

At some point Colin texted goodnight—server glitch resolved. Tic’s still out like a light. Responsibility tries to tug my collar, but I shrug it off.

“Cold?” I ask when she shivers.

“Just a little.”

I drape an arm around her, robe edges overlapping, sharing heat. She relaxes into me, and it’s…comforting. I imagine this moment replaying years from now—same balcony, but we’re discussing grocery lists. The image stings sweet and scary.

Not in the cards, Copeland. Don’t scrapbook futures.

The truth is, it won’t be her. But I want it to be someone. I want the domestic bliss thing, with a partner, babies, dogs, cats, the whole menagerie. Thirty-seven means I have to stop playing around about this. Eventually.

She tilts up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Listening. Not…pushing.” She draws an invisible shape between us—the topic of tub trauma avoided. “Tonight’s already more than I imagined. In the good way.”

I brush a knuckle down her cheek. “Pleasure, Thalassa. In every sense.”

Her answering gaze is open, trusting in a way I rarely earn. The temptation to promise more blooms fierce, but that’s reckless for both of us. We have a deal, and that deal does not include promises or a future. We both know it. So I kiss her again, softer, to let my actions convey what words shouldn’t.

She breaks the kiss, smiling. “I should soak up this view. I won’t see it ever again.”

“Then come here…” I rearrange us so she’s wrapped up in my robe entirely, her back against my chest as she leans forward to look down over the railing.

Which presses her magnificent ass against my cock. Firm muscles, silky skin, the crevice that sandwiches me, I can’t help the reaction she causes. Right now, I have no more blood in my head.

Her startled gasp catches in her throat. “Again?”

“Your ass begs for attention. Of course I’ll pay it.”

To my surprise, she rubs herself against me. “Don’t start something you’re too tired to finish.”

This girl is trouble.

“I’ll show you exactly how tired I am, if you fish into the pocket of my robe and grab what you find.”

She does so, producing a condom. “You boys put these things everywhere, didn’t you?”

“No sense in wasting time. There’s also some beneath all the pillows.” I apply the condom. “Are you sure you want more, pet?”

“Mm, I like it when you call me that.” She takes my hand and puts it between her legs. Slick and needy. “Don’t I feel like I want more?”

I’m game, but in case she worries, I should mention it. “We could get caught…”

“I know.” She says it like that’s a selling point.

I nuzzle against the shell of her ear, and keeping my voice low, I murmur, “Brace yourself on the railing.”

She grips the cold top as I pull her hips back to angle her for me. Tight. So damn tight and hot, and when I breach her entrance, she mewls for me.