Page 27 of My Ex’s Dad (Scandalous Billionaires #1)

Somehow, it fits that, if anything, Amalphia would collect something like that. Also, she’d genuinely take the attitude that even though they meant something to her, they could be replaced, and she could forgive and most past it.

It’s another stark reminder that despite being raised in wealth and surrounded by more money than I could comprehend, my parents weren’t able to raise me to be someone like this woman.

They’re certainly nothing like her parents.

They haven’t fallen more in love each year.

I doubt they were ever in love to begin with.

It’s a terrible thought, and I’m not trying to judge them, but I feel their marriage couldn’t have been more than just another business transaction.

“We can…we can go slow. Or…I…I just know I like being here with you. You make my heart do fluttery things that it never has with anyone else. And don’t get me started about the hormonal onslaught.

I didn’t even know it was possible to be this attracted to someone without it killing you.

” She withdraws her hands gently, and I drop mine.

“I’ll be fine, though. My ovaries are all good.

I…there’s no pressure here. Goodness.” She looks up and groans.

“I’m just going to stop now. Let’s watch the stars. Lovely, computer-generated stars.”

“Thank you for all of this. I’ve never done anything like this in my entire life.

It’s a one-of-a-kind experience.” Now isn’t the time to get shy.

“I’d like to have more days like this one.

Or just boring days. Days that are just ours, for us.

I have to warn you, though, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.

A lot of soul searching. I’m going to do some things that are going to make a lot of people angry with me.

They’ll question my sanity. They’ll think I’m having a midlife crisis.

They might say horrible things about you, but I’ll do my best to shelter you.

I just want you to have a realistic picture of what you might be getting into. ”

“Oh, so it’s worse than the fact that you’re my ex-boyfriend’s dad, and you’re a decade and some older than me?” Her eyes sparkle. It’s amazing that we’ve gotten to the point where we can joke about this.

“I’m going to quit my job.”

She looks poised to laugh before she studies me at a level that’s nearly hairy eyeball official. “Holy poopers. You’re not joking.”

“No, I’m not. I want to leave the company and do my own thing.

I don’t know what that is yet, but I’d like to just be able to breathe.

I’d like to do something that makes me feel like I do right now.

Just purely happy. I don’t want to say that I’d like to take a chance on us working because taking a chance sounds so wrong.

It implies that it would be a mess or there wouldn’t be trust or effort put into it. It sounds lazy and haphazard.”

This is as vulnerable, walls down, and heart open as I have ever been with anyone, ever.

I know it’s not some grand, romantic gesture, but judging by the expression on Amalphia’s face, she reads it for exactly what it is.

She doesn’t tell me that I’m crazy. That I should reconsider.

She believed me about the worst of all this right from the start, which is more than my own parents ever did.

There’s been a string pulling us together right from the start, and I feel it now. It makes my heart hammer, and it makes me believe that the dumbest things I could ever hope for or even dare to say might not be dumb at all.

I’ve made a life out of refusing to be emotional because emotions just lead you straight into stupidity, and that leads you straight off a cliff edge of trouble that will haunt you for the rest of your days.

“Do you…” I have to pause to catch my breath. “Do you think that’s dumb?”

Amalphia is silent, her eyes huge, but she shakes her head quickly.

“No.” Her hand hovers in the air for a second before she gets brave enough to brush a strand of hair from my forehead.

She strokes my cheek and runs her fingers through my beard, sighing as if she’s one of those very rare women who actually adores facial hair.

“No, I don’t think that’s dumb at all.” Her eyes mist over.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m not very good at this.

” She bites down on her bottom lip, her nostrils flaring adorably. “Maybe we should watch the stars?”

She slips her hand down, trailing her fingers gently over my shoulder and letting them fall to my wrist. Before she slips her hand into mine, she plays with my fingers, stroking them in a way that shouldn’t have me breathing heavily, but it does.

She spreads out on the floor, looking up.

I mirror her pose.

We’re shoulder to shoulder, and it takes everything in my power not to just lean over and kiss her.

Her face is so close. I could slip my nose into the crook of her neck and inhale her scent.

I could wrap my hands around her waist and lift her right onto me so she’d straddle my waist. Would she lean forward and kiss me, grinding down on my cock at the same time?

Fuck. The stars. Right.

They’re lovely stars and all, but I can’t stay focused.

After a few seconds, my eyes glance over, caressing Amalphia’s side profile.

The lights are even prettier as they reflect off her face, highlighting the curve of her cheekbone, the soft slant of her nose, her thick fringe of lashes, and her luminous eyes.

I’ve been all over the world, but have I ever stopped for just a few seconds to look up and appreciate the stars and the infinite nothing and everything that is out there?

I’ve sometimes felt that Amalphia has been able to see straight into my brain and know what I’m thinking. She does it now, sweeping her arm up and over as she curls into my side. She lays her cheek on my shoulder and side hugs me. I need that. So very much. Her warm breath fogs against my throat.

It’s official. This box fort is going to be my final resting place because I’m dead.

I’m dead, and so is my self-control.

I angle my face down and find her looking up at me, her lips parted.

I pull her into my arms as I roll onto my side.

I capture her mouth, and her hands grasp my shirt, instinctively curling up in the soft fabric to pull me closer.

Her lips part automatically, and I sweep my tongue inside her mouth, tasting her as she moans and writhes against me.

All that action traps my cock in my pants, and I have to reach down to adjust myself, which means accidentally kicking out.

Unfortunately, I’m at the perfect angle to smash my foot straight into one of the walls.

I’m so into the kiss, as in I’m throwing my whole body and soul into it, that I miss the woosh of the wall as it falls in.

The next thing I know, the whole fort is tumbling down around us. One wall caving in after another, the domino effect. We’re buried under a mountain of cardboard, but Amalphia doesn’t pull away. She’s still kissing me when she laughs.

“Oh my god.” Her voice tickles my lips.

“Hold on. I’ll fight our way out.”

She grasps my face and kisses me again. “Don’t you dare. Not yet. I’m not done with you.”

She shuffles and wriggles, clearing some of the cardboard to the side, but we’re not unburied yet.

She laughs and kisses me hard enough to drive my head to the floor.

That little bit of aggression is so delicious that my cock kicks against my zipper hard enough to bruise, even with the cushion of my boxers in between.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rings.

Amalphia doesn’t stop. The kiss is delicious, heat claiming every bit of my body.

I don’t mind one bit that we’re totally covered in the detritus of the box fort.

All my cock cares about is getting closer to her, and she has the same idea.

She grinds down on top of me until stars dance behind my eyes, ones I don’t think are from the projector because it’s buried too.

The doorbell rings again. And again. Then, once more. Nope, again. And another time.

“My goodness sake!” Amalphia tears away and throws her arms up, causing a cardboard explosion.

She pulls cardboard off of me, freeing me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just need…” I sit up and adjust myself, then thrust my hands over my lap when it’s clear there’s no adjusting anything. “A minute.”

She nods. “I guess I’m going to have to get that, but I’ll stall. And stall.”

She peeks through the peephole at the front door as the bell keeps chiming away. Whoever is out there isn’t taking we’re pretending not to be home for an answer.

“For the love of cardboard! It’s Reg. He does seem to have impeccable timing, doesn’t he? Do you want me to tell him you’re not here?”

“No,” I say with a sigh. By the time I stand up, my dick has pretty much deflated. “It’s alright.”

“I’m not going to let him say things about you that—”

I set my hand on the small of her back, reassuring her. It’s sweet that she wants to protect me, but I can do that for myself. I can do that for both of us. “I’m not going to let him say terrible things about either of us. I made myself clear the last time that it won’t be tolerated.”

Amalphia’s eyes practically cross, but she steps back and lets me open the door.

Reginald looks frazzled. He’s wide-eyed and sweating so obviously that his face is glistening, and his T-shirt is stuck to his body. He shoves his hands into his baggy jeans as soon as I pull open the door since he no longer needs them to harass my doorbell.

“You’re not my dad,” he bursts out.

Amalphia steps out from behind me, crossing her arms. She tries to keep a straight face but shoots me a side look that is full of worry.

“Reginald,” I start, his name coming out firm, so at least there’s that, even if I have no idea where to go with it.

His next words cut me off and nearly lay me out cold. “I heard Candice talking to one of her friends. She didn’t know I was home. She was bragging to her friend about how she’s made you pay all this money all these years, and the kicker is that I’m not even your kid.”

There’s a terrible pause that goes on and on and on until, finally, Amalphia sets her hand on my arm, right there for Reginald to see. She opens the door fully. There’s no way we’re not doing this, even if I never wanted Reg to find out, and certainly not this way.

Amalphia is full of soft compassion. “I think you had better come in.”

Reginald raises a brow at me, asking for permission. All I can do is nod and try not to fall right the fuck over.