Page 50 of Billionaire's Fantasy
“I love you,” I tell her, and she smiles contentedly.
“I love you too, Jackson.”
“Do you think you will ever forgive me?” I ask her.
“I think that—“
There is a loud knock on the door punctuated by the shrill sound of my alarm. And with that, my dream ends, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
I am embarrassed when I jump out of bed and pull back the covers and find that I just had an equivalent of a wet dream, one I haven’t had since I was fourteen, and this one involves the very same influencer on the other side of the door.
“Coming,” I say, cringing at the choice of words.
Then I turn off the alarm and quickly pick up a robe with which I cover up before rushing to open the door.
I open the door to my room, and there she is—Amber—beautiful, sensational, gorgeous. She is dressed in her ski clothes. She looks amazing in her snug-fitting navy jacket, and her boots look like they mean business. I can feel my heart racing just a little bit faster as I take her in. Thoughts of all the things I was doing to her in my head and my dreams just before she knocked have me fighting a blush.
“Hey,” she says with a small smile. “I’m heading down for breakfast with Olivia. You can join us as soon as you’re done getting ready.”
I nod, feeling a little tongue-tied. “Sure, sounds good,” I manage to say, hoping I sound a little cooler than I feel. “I will hurry down.”
“Okay,” she says before turning to leave.
As Amber walks away, I take a deep breath and try to focus on getting ready.
I strip the bedding and throw them on the floor, Room service will hopefully take care of it. I take a quick shower and then I quickly pull on my ski pants and jacket, making sure everything is snug and warm. I’m not as stylish as Amber, but I think I look decent enough.
I head downstairs to join them. I can feel my heart pounding as the elevator descends. Amber is so damn pretty, and I start to feel a little nervous around her. Then you top that up with her anger and my guilty conscience and we have a recipe for disaster. But I try to shake it off and focus on the tasks at hand—breakfast and then skiing.
When I get to the dining room, Olivia and Amber are already there, chatting and laughing like old friends.
What the hell happened between yesterday evening and this morning? These cannot be the same people I checked into the hotel with.
I can feel a pang of jealousy, wondering how close they really got. Maybe if I spend the entire ski lesson talking to her about it, maybe then, she can forgive and offer up her free smiles to me, too.
I don’t deserve them, but I sure as hell want them.
“Morning, ladies,” I tell them. “What are we having?”
“Hey grumpy. I am having oatmeal and Amber here is having a smoothie. What will you be having?”
I look at the spread on the table before us.
“Don’t mind if I do.” I serve up a few strips of bacon, a boiled egg and a mug of coffee before sitting beside Liv.
“So, heard you guys were hitting the slopes today?” Liv says.
“Uh-huh. You are not coming?” I ask confused.
“No. I wanted to get in some more hours of sleep. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Cool,” I tell her.
“And how are you feeling about our day? Ready for some snow?” I turn to Amber.
“Yes. I think we can get some pretty good shots, too. I will not carry my camera, but I am hoping the phone will be enough.”
Right! Because I may be thinking of this as a chance to hang out together, but to Amber, this is still work, still research for her father and content for her followers.
