Waking Up with a Billionaire (The Overnight Billionaires Book 3) by Katie Lane

she’d spent most of the day going through his things because she had to open only one before she found what she wanted. She pulled out the sketchpad and one of his mechanical pencils.
    “Then go ahead and sketch something.” She held them out. “The coffeemaker. The light fixture. Me.” She flapped the sketchpad. “Draw anything.”
    Just looking at the sketchpad and pencil made cold sweat bead up on his forehead. And it pissed him off to no end that she knew exactly how terrified he was.
    “Fuck you.” He pushed past her and walked out of the room. He took the stairs two at a time and got real satisfaction from slamming his bedroom door. He stripped off his shirt and dropped it to the floor, kicked his shoes at the closet, then took off his pants and left them puddled by the bed. He had just jerked the neatly made covers back when the door opened and Chloe walked in with his bowl of soup.
    “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock before you enter someone’s room?” he asked as he climbed beneath the sheets.
    “I thought this was my room.” She sat down on the bed and started eating his soup. His soup . “This is amazing. You should really try it.”
    He punched a pillow and adjusted it behind his back. “I was wrong. You shouldn’t stay until Eden and Nash get back. You should leave now.”
    “Too late,” she said. “You wanted me as a guest, you got me. So what do you think caused your problem?”
    “I’m not talking about this.”
    “If you don’t talk about it, you’ll never fix it.” She held out a spoonful of soup. “Hurry and take a bite before it drips on the sheets.”
    He should’ve ignored the spoonful of soup. Unfortunately, he was hungry. He leaned in and took the offering. The soup was good. “You want to talk,” he said. “Let’s talk about why you dated a guy who liked to use you as a punching bag.”
    She fed him another bite of soup. “It’s no secret that I have a thing for abusive relationships. But at least I’m working on my problems. I haven’t been with a jerky guy for six months—if you don’t count the last twenty-four hours.”
    “Like I believe that. What about the guy at the bar?” He took the bowl from her and continued to eat.
    “You mean Jeff? He’s not a jerk. He’s an FBI agent. Besides, we’re just friends.”
    “That’s not what he wants.”
    “Well, that’s all I want. I’m through with guys for a while.” She scooted farther onto the bed and crossed her legs pretzel-style, flashing him a peek of sexy black panties that had him choking on his soup.
    She patted him on the back. “See, I knew you were hungry. Slow down or you’re going to choke to death.” Once he caught his breath, she continued. “So tell me when you first noticed that you couldn’t paint.”
    He should’ve gotten up and left the room. He didn’t need Chloe examining his problem. Unfortunately, she would be able to examine more than just his problem if he got up. He had one hell of a boner.
    “There wasn’t any certain moment,” he said. “I just woke up one morning and couldn’t do it.” No longer hungry, at least for soup, he lowered the spoon to the bowl and set both on his nightstand.
    “This was when you were in Paris?”
    “No. I haven’t been able to paint since we went to the catalog shoot in Fiji.”
    She looked surprised. “You mean you haven’t painted for six months?”
    “Six months, fifteen days, and twelve hours to be exact. Now if you’re through psychoanalyzing me, I’d like to go to sleep.” He scooted down in the bed and tucked the covers around him. He quickly sat up again when he noticed his hard-on tenting the blankets. Luckily, Chloe was too wrapped up in her therapy.
    “Maybe it was something you ate in Fiji,” she said. “They served us some crazy fish at the resort—maybe you got mercury poisoning. Or maybe the cabin pressure in the plane screwed with your inner ear, which then affected the right side of your brain—or is