The Billionaire's Wicked Game

a's

odis

bstance that stimula

t of eating, put someone

but not in the wa

est it to the mind, trigger a craving that has nothing to do with hun

did t

of a s

ced with m

as the win

arely lingered

oth as aged

me wanti

ong it took to wedge myself into this tight parking spot. A struggle. A performance, real

rsed, moved forward, reversed again,

ce. Outrageous fees. But today, I neede

charging five dollars for a cup of beans and water? The worst part? I keep paying for it. My own fault. Two coffe

usic drown out my thoughts as I

the same a

rly tanned cougar is still eyeing high school boys-gross. Kid

e I am.

akdown about graduating college. Five years

No dream job.

e is a

pray for a D to magically become a B, plan a vacation you can't a

rize at the end

tions for positions you're not even interested in, dodge calls from

that defines u

ing sun. Either way, my bitter self is surfacing to

ediately seeping through my jeans. Fantastic

sudd

figu

g towa

blonde. His black t-shirt clings to his muscles, his grey sweatpants

next to him that

ader, effortless

ir, barely concealin

stretched over

werful, it's alm

short-c

m wearing three layers, and they're ou

t happ

lock on

bl

second, the w

oad chest rises and falls, his breath a mix of frost and fire. Sweat t

in my body screaming

a harassment charge. I ca

rl tackles billiona

lap a hand over my face, pretend

oth

mooth,

bly, my cheeks burning as

I'm holding my brea

ngers-sweat

ion, yet someho

ng every woman in the pa

ey are. They'

nort es

neath him. Screaming his na

my ter

. The type who collect hearts and sh

n cross paths

different kind of air-one lac

head, laugh

end. A decent,

Looking isn

, what a

find myself ba

mistry exam. I

silently curse God for not giv

not God's fault. I probab

ch, earbuds in, music drow

en

had

ure approa

ng my glasses

lue e

ath ca

i

ds tucked into the pocke

is lips, wetting the dry skin,

s throat. On

h

i.

skips a