Page 66 of The Billionaire's Paradise

Cal lay back and pulled me against him, skin against skin, thighs rubbing together.

He wrapped his arms around me. I pressed kisses down his chest, over his ribs, along the soft trail of hair leading lower. He arched into me and whispered my name.

There was nothing clinical. Nothing awkward. Just the two of us, bare and open, stroking and gasping and letting it happen the way it always had—together.

When we were ready, he reached down first, wrapped his hand around my shaft with practiced ease, and I mirrored the motion. We moved in rhythm, slowly, mouths brushing, foreheads pressed together. I moaned into his kiss. He smiled against my lips, his breath catching. I felt him tremble, then his hips jerked and his beautiful body tensed—and he came, hard, spilling hot into his cup, his whole face radiant with release.

I wasn’t far behind.

He kissed me through it, holding me, stroking me, whispering filthy things in the gentlest voice. When I came, I came with myeyes locked on his, my body shaking, the pleasure crashing through me as I spilled into the cup in my hand, barely able to breathe, completely in love.

Afterward, we laughed softly as we wiped up, sealed the cups like sacred artifacts, and set them on the little tray like we were offering them to the gods.

Then we lay back together, tangled on the sofa, legs entwined, breath steadying in sync.

We didn’t say much.

We didn’t need to.

Because in that quiet room—somewhere between love and science and the possibility of new life—I knew we’d done something wonderful.

And I loved him more than ever.

CHAPTER 25

The flightback to Maui was quiet.

Not tense, just quiet, the way good books and long walks are quiet. The kind of quiet that lets you sit with something big before life comes rushing in again.

I sat by the window, Cal beside me, and Leilani across the aisle.

The sun was setting beyond the wing, streaking the sky with warm golds and soft pinks, as if Hawaii was trying to soothe us, to tell us everything was going to be okay.

I looked at my husband who had managed to doze off.

I couldn’t help but think how handsome he looked—even in coach.

Yes… coach.

It was the first time I’d ever seen Cal like this. No leg room. No champagne. Just a little foil packet of pretzels and a surprisingly well-behaved toddler trying to form the occasional nonsensical sentence for his mother in the row behind us.

And yet Cal looked perfectly comfortable.

He had been the one who’d insisted on keeping things low key.

“We’re not taking the jet,” he’d decided long before we madethe trip to Honolulu. “I don’t want to freak Leilani out.” She still didn’t know the full extent of his wealth, and while it wasn’t exactly a state secret, it also wasn’t a conversation we needed to rush. The longer she thought our lives were relatively normal, the better. There’d be plenty of time for sticker shock later.

So, there we were.

I watched him for a long moment and tried to imagine a world where none of the money existed. No penthouses. No private staff. No empire.

And I realized—he’d still be him.

The guy who smiles more with his eyes than his mouth. The guy who eats cereal straight from the box while wearing nothing but boxer shorts and mismatching socks. The guy who talks to the plants when he thinks I’m not listening. The guy who just kissed me in a beige-walled clinic like we were the only people on earth.

He would’ve been happy in any life.

And I would’ve loved him in all of them.