Page 46 of The Billionaire's Ride

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll have another drink, play your drunk song, then ‘Copacabana.’”

She sticks out her hand. “Deal!”

I take her hand, then pull her in for a kiss. “I’ll get the drinks.”

“You know, Drew, I’m really itching to see your inebriated performance, so why don’t we skip the Vermouth and take a shot.”

“A shot?” I give her an incredulous look. Turns out my innocent little Kate is just a wild one in disguise.

“Yes!”

I laugh and head to the bar, returning with two filled shot glasses with lime wedges on the rim. I raise one of them in the air. I stare into her olive eyes once more. “A toast, to lacy knickers.”

She grins, giggles, and clinks her glass to mine. “To lacy knickers.”

We suck down the potent liquid, and she quickly chases it with her lime wedge.

“Oh, yeah,” Kate says with pink cheeks. “I’m ready.” She swings her arms and jogs in place like she’s warming up for a marathon. And who are we kidding—her drunk songisa marathon.

I return to the vinyl cabinet and put on her request. “We Didn’t Start The Fire.” Right away, the synthesizer beat begins. She lets out an excited yip-scream and covers her mouth snickering. “What?” I ask.

“When I was a kid, I would lie on my bed with the cassette tape playing, reading the lyrics until I had it memorized.” She lets out a big belly laugh, adorably amusing herself.

“You did?” I ask, laughing and turning up the volume. “I’ll see if I can keep up.” I know the song well(ish). The lyrics take off like a freight train, and we struggle to catch up.

“ . . .Joe DiMaggio!”

We’re doing pretty damn good until she trips up onProkofiev,and I trip up onKhrushchev.She dances in a sixties mod style during the instrumental breaks, and I join in. Half-dressed, laughing, singing, and dancing in the middle of my living room is almost as fun as the sex, but in a different sort of way. A way I haven’t felt before. I’m too lost in the moment to second guess it. Maybe Kate isn’t the only one breaking rules around here.

After four glorious minutes, the song ends.

She collapses on the floor, laughing hysterically. “Oh, my God. This is the best night ever!”

I sit beside her, trying to catch my breath and holding my stomach from laughing so hard. “Yeah, it’s pretty brilliant.”

Kate lies back on the rug, her eyes heavy as Billy Joel croons “She’s Got A Way” through the speakers. I gaze over her glowing skin in the light, the way the edge of her bum-cheek peeks out of my shirt.

She finds my hand and pulls me down next to her. “Lie with me.” I curl her up into the crook of my arm, stroking her hair as she breathes on my chest until she falls asleep in my arms. Her words echo in my mind because I feel the same way. This is the best night ever.

Whatever’s happening between us seems like uncharted territory. Hopefully, rules are the only thing we break.

I scoop her off the floor, tuck her into my bed, and crawl quietly beside her. Thank God she didn’t make me sing “Copacabana.”

Chapter Twenty

KATE

The brilliant morningsun nudges me awake. But it’s the pounding in my head that jolts me to consciousness. I squint in the light. Where am I?

The chorus from “We Didn’t Start The Fire” plays on repeat in my mind. Oh, yeah . . . I look over. Drew’s fast asleep on his back, his broad chest rising and falling steadily. What time is it?

I sit up slowly, looking for a clue. There’s no clock on the nightstand. Where’s my phone? My purse? My panties? The memory from last night flashes in my mind. The scorching hot ecstasy. I can practically taste Drew’s lips, feel his tongue on my . . . A shiver runs up my spine, and I glance back at a sleeping Drew, so sweet and peaceful. By looking at him now, you’d never know that he’s an animal in the sack.

I don’t want to wake him, but I need a glass of water and an aspirin. Fast. I slip out of the sheets, touching only the tips of my toes to the cool, dark wood floor. Treading lightly, I grab my things near the bedroom door, then scurry into the bathroom. I check my phone first. It’s nine o’clock. There’s an alert reminding me of my investor meeting at one o’clock. Crap. I really need to get back to my hotel and prepare.

My head throbs in pain. I should’ve had more water last night. What was I thinking? And why do I still have this song in my head? Then another flashback—me, martini, Drew, Billy Joel. Oh, my God. I didn’t.

No. I definitely did.

---