Page 32 of Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire

"Finally," she says as I slide into the seat across from her. "I've been sitting here for fifteen minutes imagining increasingly unhinged scenarios. My current theory was that you'd been kidnapped by a cult and this whole marriage thing was a cover story."

"A cult?"

"A billionaire cult. They exist. I've seen documentaries."

"Mike is not in a cult."

"That's exactly what someone who'd been brainwashed by a billionaire cult would say."

I snort, reaching for the coffee she's already ordered me. It's exactly how I like it—oat milk, one sugar, extra hot. Because Finley always remembers. Because Finley always shows up.

“You’re my ride or die, you know that, don’t you?” I ask.

A frown creases her brow. “Yeah, babe, I got your back. Always. Did something else happen?”

Her question makes me remember last night and the orgasm he gave me. Orgasms we gave each other? Whatever.

“Ohhh, it’s like that, is it? Now I definitely need the details,” she says, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. "Tell me everything. And don't start with the boring parts. I want the good stuff first."

“How do you know there’s good stuff?”

“Because I know that face. Also, you’re glowing.” Her eyes and mouth go wide. “Did y’all fuck?” she hiss whispers.

I laugh and shake my head. Then I wrap my hands around my mug, mostly to give myself something to do. The warmth seeps into my palms while I try to figure out where to even begin.

“We didn’t have sex,” I say quietly. “But we did make out,” I say.

Her gasp is theatrical enough to earn looks from the next table. “Yes!” She pumps her arm.

My cheeks heat. “Mostly just kissing. Intense kissing. On his couch.”

“What do you mean by mostly just kissing?”

“There may have been... grinding."

Finley's eyes go wide. "Grinding?"

"I was in his lap."

"Evelyn Marie Barlow."

"I know."

"You were grinding on your accidental husband! Your accidental billionaire husband.”

"Can we not use that word so loudly?"

She cackles, delighted. "Which word? Grinding or billionaire?"

"Both. Either. God." I take a long sip of my coffee. "It just... happened. One minute we were talking about ground rules, and the next minute I was⁠—"

"Having a religious experience on his thighs?"

"I was going to say 'losing my mind,' but sure. That works too." I glance around us to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “He came too.”

Finley fans herself dramatically. “That is so fucking hot. I’m totally going to dry hump Maddox tonight and make him come in his boxers.”

I laugh.