Page 30 of My Ex’s Dad (Scandalous Billionaires #1)

Chapter fifteen

Warrick

A malphia starts at the beginning and reads for hours.

She’s got a digital copy of the book on her phone.

It might be extremely old-fashioned of me, but I’ve never read anything electronic.

She says she prefers the feel of real paper in her hands, the smell of old books, and the whole tangible experience, but paper copies are expensive, and the library doesn’t get stuff like this very often, if ever.

She reads for hours. It was already late when I got here. Dawn comes early in the summer, and by the time Amalphia reaches the end, there’s already the first grey-blue smudges of the early morning chasing away the purple-blackness of night.

After plugging her phone into the charger and setting it on the nightstand, Amalphia gives me a wide-eyed look. She’s on her side of the bed, and I’m on mine. Not that I have a side. I should say the area she moved over and made for me.

“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.” Her voice is like soft music, even when she’s frowning.

“I’m not sure there’s any way anyone could listen to that story and feel anything other than enchanted.”

She gapes at me. “Enchanted?” Her eyelashes sweep up and down and then pause momentarily as she finally gets it. “Oh, that kind of enchanted.”

I get a pang in my chest, but what’s going on in my cock is far worse.

I’m basically that dude who puts on grey sweats and a black T-shirt.

Except I legitimately went and worked out first. It wasn’t in my plans to come here after.

I just couldn’t stop thinking about Amalphia.

My mind should have been turning over and over the news that Reginald gave me.

I should have felt exonerated and maybe just a little bit vindicated.

Relief. Anger. Grief. Regret. Pain. Sadness. Any and all of those.

The only thing I could think about while I tried to run myself into the ground and then lift weights into a freaking coma was her.

She catches the way I’m looking at her, and it’s more than just with heavy-lidded desire, though I’m sure there’s plenty of that too. I just listened to her describe some pretty spicy shit in detail for the past few hours.

She’s in a green T-shirt with a cow facing backward and big red letters swirling over the front saying, Whooooo moooooo? The bottoms are fuzzy green, but I’m not sure it’s a matching set. All I know is that in it, she’s utterly adorable. And beautiful. She smells amazing too.

“I’m really glad you came here. That you…

that you could use this as a safe space.

That you’d want to be with me when you needed someone.

That says more than words ever could, and I’m truly honored.

I know there’s no way to prove to you that this is going to work.

That the regrets won’t outweigh the awesomeness.

There’s no physical way for me to prove to you that I’m in this for you, and not for any other reason either.

I guess it’s just trust that we have to go on,” she says.

I feel like I’m taking things from level one, where we’re still trying to decide if we can even make this work, to level ten, where I’m coming on way too strong, I’m obsessed to the point where I can’t think of anything other than you, and I’m worried that if I tell you, it’s going to make you run, but I’m pretty sure you already know because my face is doing all the telling that my words aren’t.

“You don’t have to worry about proving anything.

Everything you’ve done for me that is so far above and beyond a cleaning position, the way you smile at me, the hug you gave me, and your willingness to just look after me without expecting anything back …

that’s what tells me that you’re in this for me alone.

I know this might not work out. We have so much growing and changing to do together.

I’m not afraid of that. The only person I want to be next year, or five years from now, or ten, is a better man than I am now and doing something that makes me truly happy.

“I don’t want to make assumptions, but…” I know how stupid this is going to sound, but now that I’ve gone this far, I need to keep going, or I’m just going to wind up sounding like a selfish ass, “…but if you’d do me the absolute honor of sharing your life with me, caring about me, and standing by my side, I would love to be the kind of man who supports you in your own growth, helps you achieve your dreams, and cares for you like crazy. ”

Her eyes glaze over, and I feel like a total asshat.

I’ve said the wrong thing, gone way too far, and crossed every line.

She’s probably weighing the odds of this working against all the lessons life has taught her.

Then again, she was raised by her parents, who still seem to be completely in love with each other.

I saw them in a moment of crisis, and they were clinging to each other instead of trying to shove each other in front of the thug bus to try and save themselves.

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” She brushes at her eyes. “And I don’t mean romantically seductive. I mean romantically honest. Though I do find heartfelt words to be incredibly hot.”

Holy balls, her smile is lovely. “I’ve never enjoyed another person’s company the way I enjoy yours,” I tell her, grinning like the cow on her shirt. Except that giant backward goofy grin probably looks adorable on bovines but not so much on me.

“I’ve never connected on an emotional level with anyone the way I do with you. I don’t think time is a good indicator of how well people are going to mesh or if they’re going to succeed. I’m not worried about that.”

My chest gets tight. Time after time, I’ve been something with Amalphia that I’ve never been with anyone else. Vulnerable. Open. Honest. Human. Me .

“What are you worried about?” I grasp her lightweight comforter in both hands before I realize I’m doing it.

She shakes her head, and when she touches my face, curling her palm around my jaw, a volcano pretty much explodes in my chest. I’m lava-level hot all over, my pulse skyrocketing.

“Nothing,” she replies.

She drapes one leg over me and moves her hands to my shoulders.

Then, she swings herself onto my lap and straddles me in those fuzzy green pants.

Her hair falls forward to frame her face, her pupils are huge, and her cheeks are flushed.

She’s getting two major dicks up from me, which totally isn’t as strange as having carnal relations with one’s fridge, but the book was so convincing that, as the kids say, I ship them.

Cringe.

I’m cringing inwardly right now.

Worrying about embarrassing the shit out of myself.

Doing it exactly right.

And making it perfect.

I think she can sense how up in my head I am because she’s the one who kisses me.

It’s wicked hot, her lips are hungry, and a single second pulls me out of my body until I feel like I’m hovering around the room in a state of pure bliss.

She grasps my shirt hard but hauls herself in with it until her chest mashes up against mine.

She’s not wearing a bra under her T-shirt, a fact that my brain nearly checks out after computing, which means I can feel her tight, peaked nipples brushing up against me.

“I can’t say I’ve ever been a big fan of kissing until I kissed you,” she pants. “I like the way you do it.”

I slide my tongue along her lower lip, satisfied with the way she writhes in my lap. “I like the way you do it too.”

She lets me into her mouth, pants when I stroke her tongue with mine, and sits back hard against my dick. I don’t just see stars. My vision goes supernova.

She does it again, tossing her head back and sighing like I’ve just found her most secret spot. She arches her back, and before I can even register what’s happening, she pulls her T-shirt over her head and chucks it to the floor.

I’m…oh god, this is a different galaxy entirely. A whole sea of perfection. Creamy skin, lovely breasts, pert raspberry nipples.

I’m scared to move, to do something that will ruin the perfection of this moment, but Amalphia doesn’t have any such fears. She buries her fingers in my hair and tugs me forward, arching up so my lips land right on her breast.

“Do that thing with your tongue that you were just doing. Ahhh, yes. That’s it. That’s amazing. More. Please.”

I roll my tongue around her nipple, glorying in the sharp little puffs of air and even sharper cries she makes. She helps me, arching her back until I think it’s going to crack. It’s like she can’t get close enough.

She lifts my hand to her other breast and curls my finger around the heavy orb.

“I want you to eat my pussy like you’re my alien fridge, and I’m the snack that’s going to get tucked up inside you.”

The fact that this isn’t the most absurd thing I’ve heard tonight really proves how wildly I’ve been introduced to new ideas.

“Wait,” she amends, laughing. “I think I have that backward.”

I keep circling her nipple with my tongue and swirling the pad of my thumb around the other. “You’re not a fridge alien. You’ve always been the most beautiful soul. But as for uh…your request, I’d be happy to do that for you.”

She’s the one who yanks her pants down her thighs and tries to shimmy out of them.

Given that she’s still straddling my lap, I have to help her.

I don’t get my hands halfway up before she’s taking them and latching them onto her hips.

She runs my palms over the gentle curve of her bottom.

She stretches one leg out to the side, slips her pants off, and then shimmies out of the other pant leg with the grace of an acrobat. She’s now totally naked.

Totally. Naked.

My brain practically blows out the top of my skull at her smooth, creamy skin.