Billionaires Dollar Series

He braces his hands against my headboard and rolls his hips. Deep, earth-shattering thrusts that fill me up. That make it hard to see straight.

I grip his shoulders and meet him stroke for stroke, the two of us challenging each other and responding to it in the same moment. Go as my date. The words ring in my head-not as a fake fiancée, nor a fake girlfriend.

Not a fake anything.

And when he shudders in my arms, his groan sounding like it’s drawn from his very soul, I realize this is the truest thing I’ve ever known.

I always feel good after sex. Not just the minutes after, but the hours, even the days. It’s not exactly rocket science. Hormones, release, sexual pleasure-it’s all in there.

So I don’t question the giant fucking grin on my face as I drive home early that morning from Maddie’s condo. It’s not a mystery to trace it back to its source. My hands still carry the warmth of her skin, the sweetness of her smile, the perfect rounded shape of her tits. So yeah.

I’m grinning.

And if I look over at a traffic light and grin at the dude in the car next to me-who could not have had as good of a night as I’ve had-then so be it.

But the grin doesn’t fucking go away. I even smile and nod at the man who works behind the counter in my building, something I’ve never done before.

What’s worse, when I finally sit down at my desk, I can’t focus on my numbers.

And I have always, always been able to focus on my numbers. Many people will say it’s not tangible, what I do. But I’ve never once forgotten that every single number on my screen represents real dollars and real companies.

There’s an email in my inbox from Dennis Walker, and I even grin when I read his dry-ass words and the thinly veiled insinuation that he didn’t agree with his dad’s decision. If it wasn’t for their strict norms and rules, and my own big mouth, I wouldn’t have come up with this whole fake fiancée thing.

Which means I technically owe Albert Walker one.

Not to mention Cole, for hiring Marco’s in the first place, or I wouldn’t have bumped into Maddie again.

Fuck, but I feel good.

When it’s time for lunch, I reach into the fridge for the sandwich Maddie had made me and packed into my bag.

She’d shrugged it off that morning, telling me that she was making one for herself anyway. It tastes divine.

I should tell her.

Liam: I hope you plan to make the restaurant of your dreams entirely sandwich themed.

Madison: I’m guessing you enjoyed your lunch?

Liam: Enjoyed is too mild a word. You saved me from another gut-wrenching choice of burger or steak for lunch.

Madison: You eat like a caveman.

Liam: I do. You’re welcome to rectify that, you know. I’m always willing to eat sushi or ceviche off your naked body.

Madison: Now I’m imagining wasabi in places where no wasabi should ever go.

Liam: I’d protect you.

Madison: I also have a new favorite thing. Morning sex.

Liam: It’s surprisingly underrated.

Madison: From here on out, I’ll never disparage it again. It might even make my top three list.

Liam: What are the other top placements?

Maddie: How about I show you later?

Liam: Fuck. Now I’m hard when I should be working.

Madison: The markets wait for no one.

Liam: When one closes, another opens. That’s the good thing about money-it never sleeps.

Madison: God, that’s cliché. You should be the star in another one of those Gordon Gecko movies.

Liam: Confession: I once had a poster of him on my wall.

Madison: You’re lying.

Liam: I wish I was. It was a joke from one of my co-workers when I was working the floor, and then I couldn’t not hang it up, you know.

Madison: You were dedicated to the joke. I get it. I respect it.

Liam: Thank you. When do you start your shift?

Madison: In less than fifteen. Wish me luck.

Liam: Do you need it?

But there’s no response after that, and eventually I force my eyes away from the small screen of my phone to the larger screen of my computer. Screens, screens, all day every day.

It’s nearly six in the evening when her name flashes on my phone again, far earlier than I’d expected.

“Maddie?”

“Hey.” Her voice is tight. “Sorry to just call you like this.”

“What’s happened?”

A sigh. “This is so embarrassing to admit.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“I did actually cut myself today at work.”

“Not badly,” she adds. “But I’m in the emergency room. Just a quick check-up, I didn’t need more than a few stitches.”