Weston (Billionaire’s Game #2) Read Online Samantha Whiskey

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Billionaire's Game Series by Samantha Whiskey
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Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
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“Brynn?”

I jolted in my seat. “What?”

Weston’s eyebrows raised. “We’re about to land.”

“Okay?” I asked, damn near breathless.

God, this was going to be such a long trip despite it only spanning a weekend. I’d never dreaded a poker game more than I did right now.

I mean, normally I lived for these trips—getting to see exotic locales and experience new cultures was a freaking dream—but after what had happened between us, it was hard to picture anything about this trip being as easy as the others.

“You need to put your laptop away and buckle up.” Weston shook his head, giving me a look that screamed how many times have you flown before?

“Oh,” I said, blinking as I realized I still had my laptop opened. “Right.” I quickly closed out of everything and stowed it before buckling up. Damn, I really needed to get my head on straight.

It was just a kiss.

I’d been kissed before. Plenty of times. Some of them were very good kisses. Why was Weston’s spinning my head so much?

Because he took your breath away.

Because it was like waking up from a deep sleep and finding yourself in the arms of your dream man.

Because it was just a kiss and you instantly knew—

I forced the thoughts to stop right there. I was not going to over-analyze this. I was not going to let things get weird between us because I had one lapse in judgment and pushed him into it. I was the one who’d suggested he pretend, after all. But could he really blame me? I didn’t have a clue he considered there to be any lines between us, so naturally when he’d brought it up I thought he was joking.

And maybe he really was and just went with it, because he clearly wasn’t as affected as me, not with how normal he’d been acting the entire flight. Kissing me was probably just another night for him, a way to pass the time or explore uncharted places and all that.

You know that isn’t true.

Well, my brain was very much team-Weston-can-do-no-wrong and I was just about over it. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. I was the one who ran out on him like his kiss had been terrifying instead of exhilarating. I couldn’t help my imagination running away with me if I hadn’t left.

Weston would’ve continued his teasing, tracing light circles over the lace covering my aching center, and I would’ve let him.

He would’ve taken his time undoing the buttons of my blouse before cupping my full, heavy breasts in his hands. He would’ve dipped his head down to kiss each one before returning to my mouth. And only after he’d teased me to the point of begging would he slide his cock between my thighs. His strokes would be dominant and wild—just like him. He’d work me into a moaning, panting mess—

The plane’s wheels hit the runway, jarring me out of the fantasy. I shifted in my seat, an ache wrenching between my thighs.

Get a grip!

I blew out a breath, forcing myself to focus. I’d been looking forward to this trip since Weston told me about it. Scuba diving in Iceland was on my bucket list, and I couldn’t let a little thing like kissing Weston ruin it for me.

Only it didn’t feel like a little thing, it felt like a huge thing and I had no clue what to do about it.

The plane came to a stop, and I hurried out of my seat at the same speed as Weston, the two of us crashing against each other in the aisle. He steadied me with his hands on my arms, the touch gentle but claiming, and I gasped from the contact.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice too tight. “Did you want to get off first?”

My lips parted, his words catching up and clinging to my fantasy, making my cheeks flush. Weston furrowed his brow, shaking his head like he could rearrange the way he’d asked the question.

“No,” I said, and the awkward tension made me want to die. Things had never been so weird between us and I’d been there when Weston had lost a bet and had to dive into an icy cold lake completely naked. “You can go first,” I said, motioning to the aisle like I was goddamned Vanna White.

“Okay,” he said, releasing me and spinning in the small space to walk ahead of me, his moves almost robotic.

I sighed, following behind him at a respectable distance as I cursed myself for ever uttering the words, just pretend. Because we were who we were, and a game would never change that.

The dry-suit kept the arctic cold from my limbs as me, Wes, and the guys followed our guide into the icy waters. My heart raced, adrenaline surging through my veins as we descended with masks firmly in place.


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