He's rich, powerful, and completely off-limits. So why am I in his bed? Matthew was never supposed to be more than my best friend. He's the man who knows all my secrets, the one who's been there through heartbreaks and late-night breakdowns. He's charming, arrogant, devastatingly handsome... and completely forbidden. I was supposed to be the one woman immune to his irresistible charm. Until one night, one reckless mistake, and one kiss that changes everything. Now, every look lingers too long. Every touch ignites something dangerous. And Matthew? He's not backing down. He wants me, and billionaires don't take no for an answer. But if I give in... I risk everything. Because falling for my best friend? That was never part of the plan. A forbidden billionaire romance filled with passion, heartbreak, and the kind of love that defies all the rules.
Chapter 1 1
Nina's POV
Aphrodisiac.
A food, drink, or substance that stimulates absolute desire.
Can food, or even the act of eating, put someone in the mood for love?
The answer is yes, but not in the way one might think.
Food hasn't been proven to ignite passion physically, but it can suggest it to the mind, trigger a craving that has nothing to do with hunger. The mind plays tricks, flipping switches we never knew existed.
And he did that.
A flick of a switch.
A smirk laced with mischief.
Eyes as icy as the winter wind.
Touches that barely lingered, yet burned.
A voice smooth as aged whiskey.
He left me wanting more.
As I park my faded red Honda, I let out a breath of relief. Fifteen minutes. That's how long it took to wedge myself into this tight parking spot. A struggle. A performance, really-one that earned me a few sympathetic looks and judgmental headshakes from strangers.
I lost count of how many times I reversed, moved forward, reversed again, and-guess what?-reversed once more.
Downtown parking is a scam. Limited space. Outrageous fees. But today, I needed a change of scenery. A distraction.
Clutching my overpriced five-dollar coffee, I step onto the sidewalk. Seriously, how do rich people sleep at night charging five dollars for a cup of beans and water? The worst part? I keep paying for it. My own fault. Two coffee machines sit untouched on my kitchen shelf, collecting dust, yet here I am, swiping my debit card like a fool.
With my earbuds in, I let the music drown out my thoughts as I make my way toward the river.
The park is the same as always.
The old man on the bench is still alive good for him. The overly tanned cougar is still eyeing high school boys-gross. Kids are running around without parental supervision as usual.
And here I am. Again.
I was here a month ago, having a nervous breakdown about graduating college. Five years of brutal, expensive effort, and for what?
No direction. No dream job. No certainty.
College is a scam.
Every student knows the drill-sign up for the easiest professor, pray for a D to magically become a B, plan a vacation you can't afford, and juggle relationships that barely survive finals week.
And the grand prize at the end? Unemployment.
Welcome to adulthood. A place where you submit a hundred job applications for positions you're not even interested in, dodge calls from loan sharks, and decide which bill is less urgent to pay this month.
The single word that defines us all? Stress.
Maybe it's the chilly weather. Maybe it's the blinding sun. Either way, my bitter self is surfacing today, and I don't care enough to shove it back down.
I sink onto the wet park bench, the cold immediately seeping through my jeans. Fantastic. I knew I should've checked before sitting.
Then, suddenly,
Two figures.
Jogging toward me.
I glance up, my curiosity piqued. The first guy is tall, fit, dirty blonde. His black t-shirt clings to his muscles, his grey sweatpants hang just right**. Even seated, I can tell he's at least six feet.
But it's the man next to him that stops my heart.
He's taller, broader, effortlessly commanding.
Messy light brown hair, barely concealing piercing blue eyes.
A white t-shirt stretched over hard muscle.
A presence so powerful, it's almost cinematic.
My brain short-circuits.
Why aren't they cold? It's January. I'm wearing three layers, and they're out here half-dressed like Greek gods.
Then it happens.
His eyes lock onto mine.
Icy blues.
For a fleeting second, the world stills.
The edge of his lips twitch, almost into a smirk-but not quite. His broad chest rises and falls, his breath a mix of frost and fire. Sweat trails from his temple down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar.
I can hear every cell in my body screaming at me to jump him.
Great. A one-way ticket to a harassment charge. I can see the headlines now:
Delusional broke girl tackles billionaire in public park."
So, I do the next best thing-I slap a hand over my face, pretending there's something in my eye.
Smooth.
Real smooth, Nina.
My leg bounces uncontrollably, my cheeks burning as I fake-text on my phone.
I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until they pass.
The scent lingers-sweat and apples.
An odd combination, yet somehow intoxicating.
I glance around, realizing every woman in the park is staring after them.
Of course, they are. They're gorgeous.
A low snort escapes me.
I wouldn't mind being underneath him. Screaming his name. Clawing his broad back.
Marking my territory.
But men like that? They're dangerous. The type who collect hearts and shatter them without a second thought.
I'd never even cross paths with them.
I'm a nobody. They breathe a different kind of air-one laced with power and privilege.
I shake my head, laughing softly.
I have a boyfriend. A decent, reliable one.
But looking? Looking isn't cheating.
And damn, what a view.
The next day, I find myself back at the park.
I failed my chemistry exam. I need a break.
Staring up at the gray sky, I silently curse God for not giving me a photographic memory.
But let's be honest-it's not God's fault. I probably should have studied.
I settle onto my usual bench, earbuds in, music drowning out my frustration.
Then,
A shadow.
A tall figure approaching me.
I blink, shoving my glasses onto my face.
Icy blue eyes.
My breath catches.
Him.
He stands before me, hands tucked into the pockets of his black sweats.
The tip of his tongue traces his lips, wetting the dry skin, before he bites down gently.
He clears his throat. Once. Twice.
Then,
"Hi."
My pulse skips a beat.
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