Shopping for a Billionaire 3(7)
Author: Julia Kent

“It was that bad?”

“Let’s just say I never, ever want to go through that again.”

“Good. Because you’re allowed to have a toilet girl fetish, but not a bee sting fetish,” I whisper.

The room goes still as he smiles with his eyes. No laugh, no chuckle. Then I realize what he’s just said.

“Falling for me?” I ask.

Without answering, he climbs on the bed beside me.

“I, uh, I don’t want to get pee on you.”

“Isn’t it a little early in our relationship for golden showers?”

I sputter, then gag, then cough for too long. I think I damn near fill the bag. “No, I mean…” I gesture to my pee bag.

“Oh. That.” With a flick of his wrist he moves a tube just so. I’m on my side, so we spoon, and whatever he did makes it all work somehow. His hot thighs press against my backside, arm reaching over my waist and pulling me in. His touch is tender and careful, gentle and safe.

“Or do you have a hospital bed sex fetish?” I ask, yawning. I mean, really—hot, rich guy who saved my life and he’s cuddling with me while I have a tube shoved up my urethra and I’m peeing in front of him? Only real in Fantasyland. Or Fetishland.

He lets out a low sound of amusement. “Believe me, of all the fetishes I could have, this is the last one on earth I’d want right now.” I must have given him my yawn, because he joins in.

“You must be exhausted, too,” I whisper. “I pumped you full of epinephrine when I injected you. I’m so sorry.”

He hugs me tighter. “It was an accident. And it’s been, what—most of a day now.”

How can he be so forgiving? Steve would have ranted for days about my injuring him, as if it had been a character flaw of mine. Declan takes my klutzy mistake in stride.

I pull away and half-turn to face him. “Accident or no accident, I put you in danger.” I feel stupid and confused. The bed is small but his warmth feels so good.

“All I have to do is process out some extra adrenaline. My organs can take it. You came damn close to…” He won’t say the word, so I do.

“Dying.”

Tension fills his entire body from knees to hands. “Yes. Andrew came close when we were kids after a wasp sting. The whole family carries extra Benadryl at all times, and he has two EpiPens, too. It’s not something you take lightly, and if I’d have known about your allergy, I never would have…” He sighs. “I would have made different decisions.”

“That’s my fault.” My voice cracks. “I don’t like to let it limit my life, and when you asked me for an outdoor date I didn’t want to be—” I pause and yawn again. The room is getting dimmer and I hear the beeping from various machines down the hall. Machines that monitor heart rates and IV flow, that keep people safe and alive.

“What?” he asks gently.

“That girl. That weird girl who is sensitive and who lives a restricted life. Who imposes that on you.” It occurs to me that maybe Steve didn’t like picnics because of my bee allergy. That makes me frown. Perhaps he thought about me with more care than I realized. I seize inside, even though I do not have the energy for any of this. 

Why am I thinking about Steve as Declan’s scent fills me like the perfect prescription for healing?

“You wouldn’t impose anything on me. I’m a grown man who can make his own choices.” His voice is gruff. I don’t feel vulnerable, though. This is an open give-and-take. I’m his equal. His very tired equal.

I yawn again. “Then I guess I was worried I’d give you one more reason not to choose me.” I squeeze his hand and he squeezes right back.

“Why?”

“Because this is unreal.”

He shifts against me, the rough denim of his jeans sliding against my bare legs. Sinking into the comfort of him, I sigh, a long, luxurious sound that feels like an endless exhale. As if I’ve been holding my breath for a year and can finally let it go. If you can’t tell someone how you feel right after they’ve saved your life, when can you? Besides, if he doesn’t return the feelings I can blame delirium on my confession.

“It is for me, too, Shannon,” he says softly, his breath sending strands of hair against my cheek.

Oh! He’s joining in. This is new territory.

He continues. “I can’t believe that I found someone like you. And that you see something in me that makes you want to be with me.” He swallows, and I can feel the movement on my shoulder. “I’ve spent years just chasing arm candy and bedmates.” He’s confessing to me, baring his soul. 

I freeze, taken out of the comfort zone and into wishful-thinking territory.

“I’m not arm candy?” I try to sound lighthearted but instead I just feel raw.

“You’re a chocolate-covered strawberry. A dozen of them. On top of a chocolate mousse cake.” He nuzzles my neck, his smile imprinted under my ear.

“Do you really mean it?” I try not to sound as pathetic as I feel. Hope rises inside my chest, crawling out of a cave near my heart, shielding its face against the first shaft of sunlight it’s seen in a long time.

He gets what I’m really saying. “Do you?”

“Do I feel the same way?” I break free from our spooning and very carefully turn over to face him. He’s vulnerable and wanting, his eyes open and watching me carefully. No pretense. No shields. No walls.

“Yes.” He’s inventorying me.

“I can’t believe you want to be with me. I’m…nobody.”

“You’re everybody,” he says with a firm passion. His hand slides along my jaw and under the nape of my neck. “And watching you today, after that bee…I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” I reach forward, the IV pulling on my arm, a sharp, needling pain making me wince. He pulls the tangled tube away from its knot with such care I want to cry from the joy of being treated like this.

“How about we both just stop right here.”

My heart seizes. “What do you mean?”

“This is what we both feel. It’s real. It’s real,” he says with urgency. His lips press against mine and the kiss is so sweet that tears spring to my eyes. His body moves toward me and stops. He pulls back and closes his eyes. “And it’s so real that we need to let down our walls and let reality guide whatever comes next.”