Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1) (28 page)

“W
indows up or down?” he asked, cranking the engine and putting the gearshift into drive.

Reality started to set in. We were headed back to the city, and I knew I’d miss being wrapped up in my perfect Kline bubble. No responsibilities, no plans, just us, lazily enjoying the entire weekend together.

“Down, please.” I wanted to smell the ocean one last time. The day was beautiful, sun shining brightly and only filtered by the occasional fluffy white cloud strolling past its glow.

He rolled down the windows then leaned over the console, grabbing two pairs of aviators from his glove box and handing one to me.

“Such a gentleman.” I smiled, slipping them on and tossing my hair into a messy bun.

“For you—” he rested his hand on my thigh, squeezing gently “—always, baby.”

As we drove onto the main road, the Hamptons house slowly diminished in the passenger mirror and an unexpected surge of melancholy consumed me. I was going to miss that beautiful, rustic house. If I could’ve made a Pinterest board of my perfect home, that place would be pretty damn close. Once finished, I bet it would exceed my wildest dreams.

I was still in awe that Kline had bought a home for his mom and dad. And it wasn’t a brand new house, which he could obviously afford. It was a home he was filling with love and care and thoughtfulness by fixing it up himself.

Everything I had assumed about him had been dead wrong.

He’d rented a Ford Edge, for goodness’ sake. Nothing against that vehicle—I’d have been more than happy to drive one around—but it wasn’t the type of car you’d see a man with his kind of money drive.

A Range Rover? Definitely.

But an economy, mid-size SUV that he’d
rented
? Hell no.

He was so damn humble and endearing and
practical
. Every new facet of his personality I discovered, I adored. Kline was one of the most intriguing people I’d ever met.

“I’ll drive. You handle the music. Sound good?” He handed me his phone, iTunes already pulled up.

I nodded, scrolling through his playlists and choosing Young the Giant’s “12 Fingers.” It was the perfect song for this kind of day. I hung my hand out the window and savored the unseasonably warm wind that caressed my skin. After slipping off my flats, I moved my feet up to the seat, knees finding their way under my chin. Catching sight of each mile marker we passed, I felt a twinge of sadness as the distance grew between us and that gorgeous beach view.

I glanced at Kline out of the corner of my eye. He was softly singing the words, tapping out a beat on the steering wheel. He looked delicious—aviators, two days’ worth of scruff, handsome mouth set in a soft grin. I wanted to eat him with a spoon.

A swell of emotions tightened my chest as our weekend replayed in my mind.

It had been perfect.
He
had been perfect. Kline hadn’t rushed. He’d been attentive and careful and made sure my first time was good for me. And it had been. That night had been more than good. It had been
amazing.

He made me feel crazy, in the greatest, most overwhelming way. It was hard to describe. Hell, it was hard to even put it into words without saying things I wasn’t quite ready to say.

Just… God, this man… He was
everything
.

I felt like I was on the best roller coaster ride of my life. In the beginning, when everything started with us, I had hesitantly hopped in, mind racing:
What the hell am I thinking? Is this a good idea?

The guy I’d known at work was a fair, honest, friendly guy but not one I’d ever considered. But then, it had been too late to back out because I’d been moving—
we’d
been moving.

We’d been climbing and whirling and twisting all crazy, and my thoughts had immediately shifted.
I’m pretty sure I’ll survive, because how many people fall out of roller coasters, right?

But I didn’t really know because I’d never really paid attention to theme park statistics.

Shit, I had never really been into riding roller coasters.

Until Kline.

Every corkscrew and curve was exciting. I was enjoying every nerve-wracking minute, and I started to just let go and trust. I started to truly believe that as scary as it was, I was right where I needed to be.

Then, there was that “holy shit” turn when the bottom would drop out and my stomach would fall to my feet, but I was soaring again and screaming and laughing because I had made it. I was
alive
, and this—Kline and me together—was the most real, amazing thing in my life. And the ride slowed just a little bit, and the turns and twists were more like reverberations of the really crazy ones from before, but I was fine with that.

I was happy with everything.

And when I pulled into the place where I had started, I felt changed—overjoyed, enlightened, and knowing, without a doubt, I was right where I’d always wanted and needed to be.

In the craziest explanation, that was what he made me feel.

Complete. Alive. Amazing. The same but somehow very, very different.

The song switched to The Used’s “Smother Me.” The lyrics and the slow, silky beat had me looking at Kline again, drinking him in.

He sensed my eyes, glancing in my direction and smiling. One hand left the wheel, reaching for mine and entwining our fingers.

I laid my head back on the seat and just enjoyed, savored, greedily soaked up this little moment. I memorized every second, locking it up tight with the rest of my Kline memories.

We’d made a lot in a short time, but they were good ones. Every single one.

Before I knew it, Kline was hopping out of the driver’s side and opening my door. The drive had been nice and we’d made good time. He’d held my hand the entire way, his thumb caressing my fingers. We didn’t talk much, just silently enjoyed each other’s company.

Sometimes, words don’t need to be said. Sometimes, simply enjoying someone’s company, just having them beside you, just being in their presence was enough. Plus, my inner monologue had said enough for the both of us.

Since we had spent the majority of the day packing and driving, I was going to stay the night at his place. We’d take the rental car back on our way to work and get into the office a little later than usual.

That was definitely one positive for dating your boss. If he wanted to take you away on a long weekend in the Hamptons and demanded you go into work a few hours later than normal, who were you to argue?

“Let’s leave the bags,” he said, taking my hand. “I’ll grab them later.”

He handed his key off to the valet and led me into the lobby and onto the elevator.

“Did you have a good weekend, Benny?” he asked, pushing the button for his floor.

“Eh.” I shrugged. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?”

I nodded.

He stalked toward me like he was a predator and I was his prey, and he caged me against the wall. “Are you sure about that, baby?”

“It was
pretty good?”
I stared up at him, fighting the urge to smile.

“I have a feeling you’re trying to get me riled up.” His kissed the corner of my mouth. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Is it working?”

His hand slid into my hair, gripping the strands. “That depends. What kind of reaction were you hoping for?”

“One that includes taking off your pants.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

His mouth was on me, kissing me hard, making my moan echo in the small confines of the cart.

My hands were all over him, touching his chest and stomach and then sliding up his back. I was about two seconds away from mounting him inside the elevator when the bell dinged, signaling we’d reached his floor.

He didn’t waste any time, picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me out, grabbing my ass.

We were a mess of kissing and groping as we reached his door. It took him three tries to fit the key into the lock and open it. We tumbled into his apartment. He kicked the door shut. My back was pressed against the wall as he continued to kiss the hell out of me.

“Kline? Is that you?”

We stopped, glancing toward the female voice coming from the living room.

“Shit,” he cursed, untangling us.

My feet hit the floor and Kline discreetly adjusted my shirt.

I looked at him, confused. What the hell?

“My mom,” he mouthed just as she rounded the corner.

Panic hit me. I was about to meet his mom. Kline’s mom. She was here, in his apartment. And two seconds ago, I’d been about to hump him in the elevator.

I mean, what were the odds? Friday night, Kline had popped my cherry, and today, I was meeting his fucking mother. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

Deep breaths, Georgia. You can do this. You can get through this without looking like a moron.

“Kline, darling! We didn’t know you’d be home so early,” she greeted, moving toward her son and giving him a hug. His mother was beautiful—dark hair that was cut into a bob, bright blue eyes, blinding smile. I was starting to see where Kline got his looks.

“Uh, hi, Mom.” He cleared his throat. Scratched his cheek. “Just out of curiosity, how did you get in my apartment?”

“The spare key you gave us.”

“You mean my
emergency
key? The one I gave you just in case I lost mine or managed to lock myself out of my apartment?”

“Yeah, that one.” She nodded and smiled, not catching his drift in the slightest.

Kline sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Kline, my boy!” A tall, handsome man walked toward us. He was a distinguished kind of handsome, with salt and pepper hair and glasses covering his brown eyes.

Oh, shit! His dad is here too?

“Hey, Dad,” Kline greeted.

The two men hugged, clapping one another on the back.

His dad’s focus turned to me. “And who is this gorgeous woman?”

“Bob, I was just about to ask that,” his mother added, almost insulted that he’d gotten to it first. It caused a hint of a smile to spread across my face.

“This is my girlfriend.” Kline wrapped his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. If it hadn’t been for the panic over his parents, I might have focused a little harder on the use of the label ‘girlfriend,’ jumped up and down a couple of times—that sort of thing.

“Georgia, these are my parents, Bob and Maureen,” he begrudgingly introduced us. I had a feeling he was peeved their unexpected visit had put a damper on our little moment in the elevator.

I fought my normal urges to shout something awkward and completely inappropriate.

“Oh, hi! I’m Georgia! Your son took my virginity this weekend! You really did a great job with him! He sure knows how to please a woman!”

Yeah, don’t worry. I managed to keep my foot-in-mouth syndrome under control.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” I shook their hands. “Kline has told me so much about you.”

“Oh, she’s very pretty, Kline,” Maureen murmured, winking at her son.

“Can’t deny that,” Bob added. “Looks like you’re finally slowing down and enjoying yourself.”

“Thank goodness!” his mother agreed. “It’s about time our baby boy took some time for himself. He works too hard.” She looked at Kline. “You really do, honey. You work way too hard.”

Kline started to say something, but his father was already chiming in. “Definitely works too hard. You look good, son. And I have a feeling it has a lot to do with this pretty lady here.” Bob nodded in my direction.

I felt like I was in the middle of a tennis match, moving my head back and forth, back and forth, just to keep up with their constant chatter. They were pretty adorable, to be honest.

“So, what brings you guys here, to
my
apartment, on a
Sunday
?”

“Your father still hasn’t fixed my washer. And I needed to throw a few loads in,” Maureen explained, giving Bob the side-eye. “But don’t worry, I went ahead and did all of your laundry while I was at it. And I cleaned your bathroom. It was a mess, Kline Matthew,” she scolded.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it.”

“Well, it was the least I could do. But really, Kline, between that and the litter box, I nearly fainted. You should think about getting a maid or something. Georgia shouldn’t have to see that.”