Page 77 of Return Billionaire to Sender

Malcolm slows his hand, leaving it in place, like he’s soaking up my orgasm through his fingers. Then, slowly, he withdraws. “You are so beautiful,” he breathes. He smooths my waistband, a gesture toward putting me back together, though it’ll take a lot more to put me back together than that.

“I feel completely undone,” I whisper. It’s a piece of honesty; I feel undone and disorganized and all messed up. I like to present myself as put together, and I never admit when I’m not, but there’s something between us now that feels like secrets in the night.

He presses his face to my cheek, whiskers like sandpaper. “You’re beautiful when you’re undone.” He kisses me there and then pulls away.

“Umm,” I breathe, dazed. I don’t know what to do or say. I turn to him, look him in the eye.

He brushes back my hair. “I suppose you’re going to insist I watch the last bit over,” he says. “I’ll admit to missing a lot of what just happened.”

The video is still playing, I realize dimly. I’m glad he didn’t catch what happened. I’d hate it if he truly had been multitasking.

“I guess I’ll let it go,” I say, looking around. I need to put myself back together, somehow. I feel like I have a wet spot the size of Texas between my legs.

“I should…I need to…excuse me.”

“Of course.” He’s back to his dapper, wicked self. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep watching.”

I point at him. “You’d better.” In truth, I barely care at this point.

I head into the main room, to the far corner where the ladies’ room is. I fix myself up and wash up and then I look in the mirror, expecting to see myself disheveled. And granted, my hair isn’t perfectly smooth anymore, but also, my cheeks are rosy, and my eyes look brighter, and my lips look somehow fuller, and my face seems to be glowing. I have this sense, oddly, that I look like a mermaid.

I gaze at my reflection in wonder. The whole world feels magical.

I take out my hair pin and smooth my hair, refastening it, slowly but surely coming to my senses. What the hell am I doing? I’m here to save our building and instead I’m letting him seduce me!

I go back. The video is still playing. Has he actually been watching it?

I sit.

“Dessert?” he asks.

I give him a stern look. “I think we’ve gone crazy enough tonight, don’t you?”

Malcolm studies my face. “We have three minutes left.”

“I’ll let it slide.”

“Do I get a tick?”

I snort. “We’ll see.” I grab my purse. “I should go.”

He’s impossibly handsome in the candlelight, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“And if you think this is how future sessions will be…” I shake my head.

“You didn’t think that was a good session?” he asks. “I thought it was a great session.”

* * *

It’snine thirty West Coast time and twelve thirty in the morning New York time when I get back to my room. I call Francine, and I’m so grateful when she answers.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I gust out. “Why was I thinking that I’d be any match for somebody like Malcolm Blackberg?”

“What happened?” she asks. “Last time you called, he was actually watching Jada’s videos. Is he not watching the videos anymore?”

“No, he’s still watching,” I say.

“That is an amazing accomplishment right there, Noelle! You are getting him to watch the videos, like a boss. You aredoing this. By the way, we’ve been discussing his John-in-love-with-Maisey theory. He may be onto something.”

---