The Billionaire's Wicked Game

a's

en I thought I had everything f

a familiar name popped up on the screen. It was Matt. We continued ex

ing an orange and cutting strawberries. When I finished, I w

. Matt always made little comments that sent a flutt

, I had a

e couch, likely creating stains. Darn it. I debated whether

ds. Talking to him felt natural, never forced like with others.

my couch, watching mindless TV shows

ldn't wait to tell Matt my good n

e, tapping my foot impatiently. He said h

around to find Ma

the shin. Arms crossed, I h

looked up, he pouted. "Sorry. I had so

xasperated sig

lifted me off the ground. "Good

round his neck. "Go

you," he

att, I saw yo

rth in the air. "Doesn't

duck face. "You know, sometimes it feels like you don

keeps pulling me back." He grabbed his ba

I drove, he fiddled with the radio. When my curr

you're the only on

his lips. "Shh! I'm l

on't do that! I don't know

you don't shut u

Love, you know I do

my magic yet. One taste, and

n the window, he inhaled the fresh air-or

lighting his features. My grip on the wheel ti

New York?

nchalantly. "Sam

heeks. "Really?

me a tender smile that deep

t to the restaurant. You, my cute du

her ridiculous nicknames ever sinc

*

umbrella over us, struggling o

nning and let him get soaked. Ma

feed you?" I grumbled, arms achi

down at me. "Not wha

implying

plying. You

n pole!" I huffed, still struggling to keep the umbrella

ees, bringing his face l

onto mine, and for a moment, all I heard was the rain hitting the pavement

ly to collide wit

head. Water dripped down his sharp jawline, his worried eyes searc

-d

-d

-d

anything excep

mine?

ed out of Matt's grip, grabbing the umbrella, plac

lectrifying moments. Moments that made th

ngle one, guilt cl

oyfriend. I repeated it like a

ld the umbrella?" I shoved it at

. "Okay, s

s narrowing.

up

ant to go the

over my shoulder. "Come cl

at the nickname, even as

like Matt

like Matt

like Matt

ds, hoping one day

never