Page 116 of How to Bang a Billionaire

“I’ve never worked in retail, but I’m moderately certain that you’re not supposed to consume the merchandise.”

I went to gnang him like I would have done with Nik…but stopped myself just in time. “You know what I mean. How do I spoil and cherish and adore you?”

“Flowers?” he suggested.

It was only the thought of my peacefully sleeping family that prevented me from screaming. “Oh my God, if you send me roses ever again, I will…make you eat them.”

His eyes widened. “I send you roses? And you don’t like them?”

“Every time we fuck. Don’t you remember?”

“I…” He hesitated.

“I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.

“You said to thank with you flowers so I had Bellerose set up a standing order with a florist.”

“Let me get this straight. You arranged to have your assistant send me post-buggery roses. As a token of gratitude.”

“I didn’t know they’d be roses.”

“That doesn’t help.” I pulled away. Curled up sulkily at the end of the bed. “Is that what happened with the tulips?”

“No. I chose those. They were so bright, they reminded me of you.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay. Pro tip: Don’t send me flowers for sleeping with you because…well…that’s one of those the-gift-is-in-the-giving situations. My reward for sleeping with you is getting to sleep with you. And if you do, for any other reason, want to send me flowers again, choose them your goddamn self.”

“I understand. I’m sorry.” He did look genuinely abashed. “I can see now it was perhaps…a little odd. But I really did enjoy our time together.”

“Good. Me too. Mostly. So you can see why not getting to touch you ever is a bit of a downer for me?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time.

Then all warily: “This is one of the ways my trying is supposed to manifest, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe? I mean, I wouldn’t want to make you do something you hated. That would be fucked up. But”—I pulled on my honesty socks—“at the same time, I don’t know if I’d cope being all Keep Off the Caspian.”

We were quiet again. And it was honestly pretty miserable. I desperately wanted for this not to be a big deal…but I’d agreed to things I wasn’t sure about the last time. And see how well that had worked out.

“You let me suck you off in Oxford,” I pointed out.

“More accurately I fucked your face.”

“That doesn’t alter the fact that my mouth was all over your dick. And a little bit on your balls.”

He hid a laugh behind his hand. “The point is, I felt in control.”

“You can always be in control.” I crawled back up the bed and knelt beside him.

“Arden…”

“My hands are yours.” I held them out, palms up, like a supplicant. “Tell me how to touch you.”

“I…I don’t know.”

A week ago, I would have assumed he was pushing me away but now that I knew to look for it, I caught the flash of panic in his eyes. “What about kissing, then. Can I kiss you?”

“All right. Just don’t put your weight on me, or I’ll hurt you.”