Failure to Match (Bad Billionaire Bosses, #2)

by Kyra Parsi

“I kind of like it when you’re mean to me.”

A few more items to add to my growing list of life-threatening allergies: 1. Whatever cologne he was always wearing. 2. My body being forced into close proximity with his body. 3. His bow tie (which I was absolutely not internally obsessing over). 4. Him clipping my safety belt into place for me.

“And I definitely remember you saying you didn’t have a sense of humor.” “That is correct,” he said flatly. “I don’t need one. I have a lot of money.”

“And the dress was a gift. Do friends usually pay each other for the gifts they receive?” “I mean, no…” “Great. Now may I tear it off you?”

“Jackson,” I warned. “Yes, friend?” I had to swallow back a laugh. “I’m going to murder you if you don’t stop.” He grinned. “Ah, yes, a friendly jest between two pals. I’ve seen this on television.”

The caress was so feather-light and gentle that I barely felt it. So why did sparks trickle down my spine when he did it? Why did it make my toes curl?

His eyes practically twinkled when his grin reached them. He chuckled. Wow, he really did like it when I was mean to him. Weirdo.

“I told you I like it when you’re mean to me. I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.”

I saw the signs. All of them. The glazed look, the slack mouth, the lean-in. And I still didn’t see it coming. I still gasped when his lips brushed mine, featherlight. Still blinked in surprise when tiny little sparks traced that exact spot. But I didn’t pull away.

“All right, I guess I’ll just spit it out.” And then Jackson Sinclair, the absolute bane of the last eight months of my existence, looked me dead in the eyes and said, “I was thinking that you and I should get married.”

“Jackson, listen to me. You don’t like me. You just think you do because I don’t want your money and I’m a little mean.” “That’s not all of it.”

“Quick reminder that I’ve turned down all of your previous monetary⁠—” “I’d stop reminding me of that if I were you.” “Why?” He leaned in to whisper his answer like it was a secret. “Because you’ve managed to awaken something rather odd in me. The more you turn down my money, the more… inclined I become to want to spend it on you.”

“You can do whatever you want. Spoiled wives don’t hear the word ‘no’ very often, Jamie. We might as well get you used to it.”

I craved him with every fiber of my soul and didn’t know how to make it stop. It was horrible, and wonderful, and terrifying, and all his fault, so I shoved my tongue into his mouth as punishment.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Jamie. I can’t fucking handle it.”

“Every single one of my kinks—all the ones we’ve talked about—are exclusive to you. I don’t want to do any of this with anyone else; never have. Why is that, Jamie? What the fuck did you do to me?”

Hope was such a viciously miserable thing sometimes.

When people tell you who they are, when they tell you what they want, believe them. Always believe them.

“I can make you sushi all the time.” “You just said you don’t enjoy cooking.” “Hate it. It’s a complete waste of time.” He tossed the towel he’d used to dry his hands and wedged himself between my dangling knees again. “But if it made you happy, I’d do it.”

I think you’re a lot easier to fall in love with than you realize,

“You think I’m easy to fall in love with?” His voice was husky, quiet.

“I don’t want your money.” His eyes narrowed. “And I already told you, the more you tell me you don’t want it, the more I want to spend it on you. It’s very irritating.”

I wished I’d never met him, but I was so fucking glad I had, you know?

“I hate to break it to you, Jamie Paquin, the prettiest little matchmaker with the prettiest smile and the prettiest heart he’s ever seen, but this idiot is your man.”

“How can you stand it?” His voice was raw, anguished. “How is it fair that you’re only halfway there, but I can’t fucking breathe anymore, Jamie?”

“I’m done. Eight billion people in the world and my Jamie’s the best fucking one. It’s her, or it’s no one. I won’t be blackmailed and manipulated into making the single biggest mistake of my life, so fuck you, fuck the shares, and fuck the family legacy. I choose Jamie.”

“I love you, Jamie.” My heart burst. I couldn’t… wow that was a rush. A wicked smile spread over Jackson’s lips as he took in my reaction. “I don’t remember how or when it happened, exactly, but I’ve developed an unacceptable amount of love for you and I very much plan on holding you accountable for it.”

“You broke me,” he chided. “It’s been a very traumatic experience. Do you know butterflies in your stomach refer to actual butterflies in your actual stomach? And my heart’s been very dramatic about you. It’s unsettling, to say the least, knowing how many years you’ve shaved off my life.”

“It’s her, or it’s no one.”

And when I was done giggling over it, he murmured, “I love you, Jamie.” The man was dead set on sending me straight to an early grave, I swear. “I love you, too,” I whispered back.

My husband was the most unreasonable man on the planet. I loved him so fucking much.

“It hasn’t gotten easier for me,” I said. “I love you even more than I did a year ago. It’s so overwhelming. I don’t know how to fucking handle it.”

“I’m so glad I married you. Best decision I’ve ever made. You make me so happy, baby. I’m borderline obsessed with being your wife.”

“I love you, darling. More than anyone, more than anything.”