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The Game: A Billionaire Romance by Kira Blakely (108)

Chapter 14

Vincent

I woke up with a sudden jerk to the sound of a door slamming somewhere downstairs. I raised my head up and my hand went searching for Gemma automatically. I had spent the night dreaming of her, even though I had her right there in my arms. I could smell that lemon scent of her shampoo on the pillow next to mine, and I felt myself harden immediately.

She wasn’t in bed with me, but her spot was still warm. Forcing my eyes open, I looked around the room for her. I figured she was in the master bath or downstairs, milling around the cabin. It was comforting to know that she was somewhere nearby. I rolled over, daring to touch my raging erection. My mind was racing with dreams about the day and night before, images of Gemma. Her supple naked body in my arms, those pert pink nipples in my mouth. I was desperate for her again, to feel the softness of her curls in my hands.

I sat up in bed, leaning myself against some pillows I propped up behind me. No, she was definitely not in the bathroom. She must be downstairs. I wished she was in the room so I could ease my hard-on in her beautiful body. But, she deserved her space. Things were going too fast for us. Hadn’t we just met?

Just twenty-four hours ago, I hadn’t even known Gemma Ramsey, and today all I could think about was her. The way that smile spread across her face, reaching her eyes, her soul. I wanted her in my arms again.

I ran my fingers through my tousled hair. What was going on? I had never lost control like this. I knew what I had found in Gemma I’d never had with anyone before. She seemed to be genuinely grounded. She seemed real and honest, and undoubtedly, she was very smart and witty, too. Not only was our chemistry sizzling whenever we were around each other, I felt comfortable around her. I missed her when I couldn’t see her. These were all new feelings. And she was still a stranger to me.

I mean, how well did I actually know Gemma Ramsey? Other than the fact that she used to work at a diner, she was studying biology and wanted to get into med school?

But I didn’t really care. There was nothing in the world that she could reveal about herself that would put me off her. There was an earthly innocence to her, a certain naivety that I had not seen in anyone else. She made me feel charmingly ordinary, like she didn’t care about the money on display in this cabin. Like she was actually interested in me, as a human being. I had never had that before.

I have to tell her the truth.

A wave of guilt overwhelmed me when I realized that by giving her a false name when we first met, something I’d done spontaneously, thinking she’d be nothing more than a fling, would certainly come back to bite me in the ass. I needed to get ahead of it, try to explain what it had been like for me, with the paparazzi always on my tail.

I swung my legs over the bed and walked over to the place where we had discarded our clothes the night before. Her pink top, her sweater, her jeans were all on the floor, but my shirt was missing. I smiled, realizing that she was wearing it.

I pulled up my jeans and found a fresh shirt to wear from the closet, then walked into the bathroom.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I realized that my eyes were ablaze with thoughts of Gemma. I was wide awake, and I hadn’t even had a sip of coffee yet. She was like a drug, an elixir that woke me up. I was excited about the day because she was in the cabin with me. I wondered what else I could find out about her, what more she would reveal?

I brushed my teeth and splashed some water on my face before I went looking for her. My fingers were itching for her touch. I climbed down the stairs until I got to the living room.

“Morning,” I called out, but got no reply. The previous day’s events came crashing back in my mind. She had tried to leave me once already.

I ran into the kitchen and found her cell phone on the counter. No sign of Gemma.

“Gemma!” I yelled as I scoured the cabin, running back to the bedroom, checking the balconies and the guest rooms. On the second floor, the door to my study was wide open. I rushed in to find it empty as well.

A mug of coffee was on the desk, and I walked over to it. It was lukewarm; she was here very recently. When I looked down at the carpeted floor, I realized that I was standing on something, a magazine.

I picked it up slowly, checking the cover to see which magazine it was. I thought I had hidden it well under my laptop the previous morning. I couldn’t even remember why I had brought it here with me. It was one of the magazines Mother was begging me to read, so I could find out what the world thought of me. Fuck the world.

Gemma had seen this. I scanned through the pages, the photographs of Sarah and Maria scattered through the print. Gemma had read this. She knew about the rumor mills. She knew who I was now. She knew I had been deceiving her.

I flung the magazine back on the floor and darted outside. She had made a run for it, again.

She could leave if she wanted to. I had no right to try and hold her back, but I wasn’t just going to let her disappear without a last word. I couldn’t just let her go like this.