Page 18 of Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire

“Well, to this kindergarten teacher who just finished paying off her student loans, you kinda seem unique.”

“I’m sorry that I was eavesdropping on your conversation. I’m a nosy motherfucker. I guess that’s one thing you should know about me.”

“Technically, eavesdropping is when you’re listening to a conversation,” I correct with a grin.

He chuckles. “Fair enough. I’m sorry I was reading over your shoulder.”

I bite down on my lip. Looking at him like this, where he’s so close, I think I could count his eyelashes, is a heady experience.

His eyes flick down to my mouth. “You and I are going to have to have a conversation about boundaries in this marriage.”

I lick my lips, everything but my panties, feeling incredibly dry. “What kind of boundaries?”

“What I’m allowed and not allowed to do to you, wife.”

“What do you want to do to me?”

“Right now I want to kiss you.”

“That seems reasonable,” I say.

Then the car stops, and we’re right outside the airport. Mike’s eyes close briefly, then he kisses my forehead and leans away.

“Later.”

chapter

eight

Mike

My mind swims with thoughts, even more so than usual. I'm accustomed to the constant barrage of ideas that bounce around in my head. My brain has been a beehive of activity for as long as I can remember.

For years, I thought it meant I was crazy or that I had something seriously wrong with me. When I'd questioned friends and my brother about similar experiences, they'd all looked at me like I'd grown an extra arm. It didn't take me long to recognize that I was different. Initially, that difference caused problems.

Problems at home with a dad who didn't understand me. Problems at school where there was too much and not enough structure, all at the same time. I'd been labeled and hated myself for a long damn time.

Therapy, a proper psychiatric diagnosis, and the appropriate medication turned my life around. Now I can use my powers for good, as Mitchell likes to say.

In any case, I'd intended to speak with Evelyn about our plan once we landed in Austin. Instead, I'd confessed to her.

Confessed that I wanted her. That I was attracted to her.

Thankfully, I managed to keep some of my thoughts unsaid. Like the ones about wanting to cross all the boundaries that involved her mouth, her being naked, and being completely at my mercy.

I'd kissed her forehead instead—an act of restraint that deserved some kind of medal.

Later, I'd promised.

Then we'd gotten separated on the flight despite my strongly worded protests to the crew. They wouldn’t let me buy another seat in First class and Evelyn refused to take my seat and send me to coach. First class and coach might as well be different planets. So I'd busied myself with work until we landed, all while wondering if she was okay back there. If she was overthinking. If she was regretting.

Now, hours later, I'm parked in front of her ex-boyfriend's house. Kurt.

I don't like the way his name sits in my mouth. Too blunt. Too ordinary for the amount of space he seems to occupy in Evelyn's head.

"This is it?" I ask, staring at the beige single-story with its patchy lawn and sagging porch.

Evelyn unbuckles her seatbelt. "What were you expecting?"