Page 221 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set

It’s early, just after six. The sun’s up, but low in the sky. It’s going to be a warm day. A pretty one. I don’t give a shit about any of it except talking to Avery about this letter.

Fortunately, because Bayfield is small, I know the motel owner and have the room number out of her in thirty seconds. The woman’s old enough to remember Avery and I were a thing in high school and that she hasn’t been back since. Maybe she hopes for a reconciliation as much as I do.

Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

I knock on room 102. Again.

The door slides open, the chain barring my entry to a sleepy and rumpled Avery.

“Let me in.” While I have zero patience left at this point, I keep my voice soft. Gentle. The last thing I want to do is scare her or kick the door in. I don’t want to hurt my chances of getting to the woman who has been mine since we were kids.

“What… What are you doing here?” She clears her throat.

Good. She can’t escape the conversation we’re going to have.

“Let me in, kitten.”

Her eyes flare. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I want to know about the letter, and I’m not doing it through a door.”

She looks down and I finally do as well. She’s in a sleep shirt and nothing else. While the hem of it comes to mid-thigh, longer than some dresses women wear these days, the look makes my dick twitch. She’s got to be warm and soft from sleep and I wonder if she’s wearing panties because she sure as hell isn’t wearing a bra. Those little nipples I used to love to suck are hard and pointy beneath the thin cotton.

She glances around, as if she can see around me to the rest of the parking lot, and then sighs and closes the door enough to undo the chain.

She opens the door and steps back. I enter, and pitch black engulfs us when she closes the door behind me. I know we’re closed in together. Her scent is heavy in the small room and one small whiff brings back every memory I have of us.

With a snick, the bedside lamp comes on. I turn to Avery, and her hand is on the switch on the wall.

I want to go to her, grab her, kiss her. Fuck the answers I want from her. But I don’t. I may have gotten away with my mouth on hers the night before, but not now. Not the way she’s glaring.

“The letter, kitten.”

She curls her hands into fists. “For God’s sake, Chance, I’m no longer your kitten. I’m not sure I ever was.”

“You were. Are. But I’ll play your game. The letter…Avery.”

“Game? You seriously think I’m playing some kind of game?” She shakes her head. “Get out.”

I stand my ground. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have used that word. But I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me about this supposed letter.”

Her eyes turn to fire. “Supposed letter? You’re something else.”

“I want to know about it.”

She looks up at the ceiling, crosses her arms over her chest. While the action covers her perfect tits, it slides the hem of her shirt up a few inches.

“You wrote it,” she snaps.

I never wrote a letter, but as I look at Avery, I see no evidence of deceit in her countenance. Still, I could be misreading her. It’s been a long time.

I draw in a breath. “You obviously don’t like what it said.”

“Get out, Chance.” Her voice is soft.

And with that, I know. I know I’m not misreading her. There’s a letter involved, and she thinks I wrote it.

And whatever was in this mystery letter is bad. Fuck.