Page 18 of Milk For The Billionaire's Little

Halfway through the second dance, I tilted my head and caught him looking at me. Not justlooking, watching. Like he was memorizing the moment.

And when I leaned in, so did he. Our lips met… soft, tentative, and perfect.

His breath caught, and I felt it against my mouth.

“I’ve been wanting to do that,” I murmured.

“Me too,” he whispered back.

We finished the song in silence, our bodies still close, foreheads brushing.

When the music ended, James rested his head briefly against my shoulder before stepping back.

“So now what?” he asked.

I smiled. “Now we eat too many tiny desserts and sneak off early.”

“And you keep your mask on the whole time?” There was more to that question than a simple choice of attire. He was wanting to know if I was going to let him in. And I was. But this wasn’t the place for that conversation. So instead, I answered it at face value… sort of

“That depends on whether you want to kiss me again without it.”

He flushed again but didn’t look away. “You know I do.”

“Then I’ll make it worth it.”

We wandered the ballroom for another hour, sipping drinks, laughing quietly at poorly told jokes, and pretending we weren’tslowly migrating toward the exit with each encounter. When we passed by the dessert table, James grabbed a tiny tart and grinned at me like he’d just gotten away with something. I couldn’t wait to see him in full on Little mode.

Outside, the night was cool and soft. He tugged off his mask, eyes bright and bold in the moonlight. “Now you.”

I pulled mine free and let it dangle at my side.

James stared at me like he was still seeing something new, even after seeing me this way earlier.

“You’re kind of a sap, you know,” he said.

I chuckled. “You brought out the worst in me.”

“The best,” he corrected. “Definitely the best.”

And just before we climbed into the waiting car, I leaned in and kissed him again. No music. No audience. Just us.

Unmasked. Unhidden.

Real.

A Daddy and his boy. At least, if I had anything to say about it.

10

JAMES

The car was quiet. My fault, not Kennan’s. I wasn’t used to having a stranger so close by who had no option but to hear all my words. And tonight, none of my words were going to be for good company.

I wanted to tell him everything I desired from him tonight. Those words were for Kennan alone.

Kennan sat beside me, his hand resting close enough that our fingers brushed every time the car turned. I wanted to take it in mine, but again—stranger in the car. It still blew my mind that he was rich enough that the expense of a driver wasn’t one he even felt. But also, he wasn’t snobby about it. Not once did he complain about the motel other than to protect me from the sketchy towel.

My building came into view too soon. I wasn’t ready to say good-bye. And getting the courage to invite him up, to risk rejection, was difficult enough. Doing it with an audience? I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle that.

---