Playing With Fire (Billionaire Playboys #2) Read Online Tory Baker

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Billionaire Playboys Series by Tory Baker
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Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
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“Damn.”

“I know it wasn’t what we were expecting. We have some feelers out. I’m hopeful to hear something soon. In the meantime, your loan is open. Try not to use your credit cards and spend wisely. If this takes longer than anticipated, we’ll have to re-run your credit. And no buying a car or a home, please.” He chuckles.

“Do people really do that? Don’t they realize that’s a huge no-no?” A car in New York city is laughable. You’d pay more in parking tickets than the car payment itself, unless you’re Ezra and you’re building has a garage. Even Ezra, who owns a car, doesn’t drive all the time—traffic, double parking, finding a spot in itself is a pain in the ass.

“You’d be surprised. People never cease to amaze me when I come back and tell them the loan fell through. Oh, that reminds me; no sudden influxes of cash either. I know you make tips from the coffee shop. Make sure you have it written on your statements when you’re making deposits.” Perry told me to do that from the very beginning before I mentioned my dream of one day opening my own coffee shop.

“You got it. Well, keep me posted on if you hear anything. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” Clearly, Perry works fast—my loan, reaching out to present the offer to Bonnie and Chad, continuing to do so even though he’s yet to get a response from them.

“You’re welcome. I’ll call you later this week regardless. Have a good rest of your day, Millie.”

“You as well, Perry.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit the end button, unsure of who to call first. Ezra? Nessa? My grandmother? Instead of making phone calls, especially to Grandma, which would result in at least a fifteen-minute call, making me feel guiltier for leaving Tasha out there as long as I have already, I send a quick text to all three of them, then stand up, pocket my phone, and get back to work.

NINETEEN

Ezra

The back and forth between our places is dumb. Yes, it was my idea. Yes, I’m kicking my own ass. No, I won’t ask Millie to give up her apartment. Yet. I’ve still got some work to do, proving to here that I’m willing to go all fucking in.

“Honey, I’m home!” Millie’s sing song voice echoes through my place. We’re at my place more than hers, which is not my doing. I don’t give a shit where we land as long as it’s together. Millie has an obsession with my shower. Hers isn’t as big, which makes it hard to join her, an activity we both thoroughly enjoy.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Her text that came earlier today was a cause for celebration. I didn’t have any doubt in my mind that she would get approved. The wait consumed her with so much worry, there was no amount of orgasms, mindless talking, or trash television shows that could make her shut the loan shit out of her mind.

“A girl could get used to being welcomed home this way.” I’m not going to tell her my days of shopping in-store are over. One day was plenty for me to get my fill. One call to my personal assistant, and she had everything delivered by the time I got home this evening—a bottle of wine, open and at the ready, dinner in the form of sushi, salad, and the soup she enjoys so much that she finishes mine if I let it sit in front of her too long.

“That’s not all there is. You’ve got dessert, too.” Millicent isn’t always big on dessert, but when she is, it’s in the form of red velvet cake, cold not room temperature. Cheesecake is another—no fruit, plain and simple. In the fridge right now are both options, since I was unsure of what she would be in the mood for, if any at all.

“You spoil me.” She steps up to me, hands wrapping around my neck. My hands find her hips, pulling her closer until there isn’t an inch between us.

“Congratulations, sunshine. I’m proud of you.” My head dips down. Our height difference is a good eight inches, making it difficult even when Millie is on the tips of her toes to kiss me. She meets me halfway. I pull her lower lip into my mouth, gaining the access I’ve been after all along. Her tongue peeks out, and mine twines around hers, taking over, tasting her, and dominating the kiss until her breathing becomes erratic. My hands slide until they’re beneath her shirt, feeling her soft skin, thumbs sweeping beneath the cups of her bra.

“Ezra.” Her fingers dig deeper into the back of my neck and shoulders.

“You make me lose my mind, Millicent,” I groan against her lips, pulling away from taking things further. If we keep going, her soup will be cold, her sushi will be warm, and it’ll be a total waste. Millie is a foodie. She loves any and all things related to food, not picky in the slightest, game for anything new.


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