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  An Excerpt from The Billionaire Bachelor

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  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  To my amazing readers. Thank you for loving this series.

  This one is for you. ♥

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to the usual suspects: God for your abundant love and blessings; John Lemmon, the recipient of the Husband of the Year Award seventeen years and running; my agent and friend Nicole Resciniti; editor Lauren Plude for finishing this leg of the journey with me; and new editor Michele Bidelspach for adopting me. Everyone at Forever working behind the scenes to help this book come together, including the cover model who loaned his perfect features to Asher Knight.

  Mountains of thanks to beta readers Lauren Layne, Shannon Richard, and Erin Nicholas—your input is always welcome. And to the readers who have accompanied me on this journey—thank you for sticking with me and for your letters and heartfelt messages. You are the reason I write! A few of you helped name Asher way back when, so thank you for that as well.

  Lastly, thank you, Sam Hunt. You don’t know me, but your music fueled this book. I can’t read it without hearing your album Montevallo on loop in the back of my mind.

  Prologue

  Last December

  Pate Mansion

  Will you just— Gloria, dammit,” Asher Knight, visiting rock god, client, and consistent pain in her ass, called from behind her. “Stop running!”

  Gloria Shields had picked up speed on her way out of the ballroom of Pate Mansion. In tall heels and her strapless purple gown, she guessed she looked pretty good doing it. But she wasn’t trying to catch the eye of the man following her; she wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

  “Sarge!”

  Dammit. A charity toy drive wasn’t the time or the place for this conversation, but here they were.

  “There. I’m stopped!” She spun, arms out and eyebrows aloft.

  Asher, mouth agape like he was about to say something else, seemed to think better of it. But even as he shut his mouth, he moved toward her instead of away. Closer, closer. Until he had her back flat against the wall. She pressed her hands to the patterned wallpaper, wishing this were one of those mansions with a trick door she could disappear through.

  No such luck.

  Soft music trickled out of the ballroom as the doors swung open. Connor and Faith strolled out—Faith dressed in an amazing fuchsia gown and Connor dapper in his tux. Faith spared them a quick glance.

  “We have company,” Gloria mumbled, feeling her face redden as she looked away from her friends.

  “I don’t care.” Asher shrugged.

  She believed him. He cared about little.

  Connor and Faith didn’t stop to chat, instead continuing to the great room, where they disappeared.

  “If I swore on a stack of Bibles, you still wouldn’t believe me, would you?” Asher growled, continuing the argument that started at the bar moments ago. Gloria lifted her chin, displeased at how even his snarling lip was attractive.

  She really hated that about him. Or wished she could anyway.

  Her eyes grazed his all-black outfit, darted down to the cowboy boots, and snapped up to the dark, styled hair and eyes so deep brown she could get lost in them like an enchanted wood. They’d started out civilly tonight, but quickly deteriorated as their potent mix of oil and water—or, well, more like kerosene and a lit match—devolved into this discussion yet again. And, yet again, Gloria stuck to her proverbial guns.

  “You don’t need to swear anything,” she said. “It wouldn’t matter anyway.”

  He licked his lips, looking guilty about something. Probably fucking that brunette years ago. The skinny, groupie bi—

  “Sarge, I don’t want to fight with you about Jordan.”

  Jordan. Hearing her name sent jealousy paired with regret surging through her. The emotion was so palpable, Gloria could photograph it and sell it on eBay. She wished she could forget the other woman’s name, or the fact that she’d found her outside of Asher’s rental cabin in naught but a nightie. But, no, Gloria’s mind was a steel trap that held on to every minute detail, especially things she preferred to forget. Every second of what happened—both good and bad—was tattooed onto her frontal lobe.

  “There is nothing to fight about!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low while being supremely pissed. “We are past tense. We aren’t even a we in any other faction save for work.” Her job was to be his agent and sell the children’s books he penned. That was it. Hell, some days that was too much.

  He placed a palm on the wall next to her shoulder, leaning in. Crowding her.

  “We are always a we.” She watched his tempting lips form the words, his voice a seductive murmur in the empty hallway. “No matter what.” His fingertips touched her chin and she tried to jerk away. He didn’t let her, grasping her jaw and gently but firmly turning her face to his. “How long are you going to try to resist me?”

  Forever was the answer, but every time she saw him, the vow became harder and harder to keep.

  “One more night, Sarge.”

  She let out a weak laugh. One that trickled to every part of her warm-and-getting-warmer body that should be saying No way instead of Yes!

  His fingers moved down her neck, leaving twin trails of heat on her flesh. His long lashes draped over hooded eyes filled with the promise of things Gloria hadn’t let herself want in a long time. Namely, him. More specifically, sex with him.

  “I beg of you. I’m a drowning man.”

  Those damn eyes. They muddled her mind. Cracked her foundation. She watched helplessly as her hands grasped the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and pulled him closer instead of pushing him away. He looked as good in this outfit as he did in anything else he wore…or didn’t wear.

  “Please.” He clasped her waist, firm but gentle.

  “Ash…” She was losing the ability to say no. Or maybe she’d lost it the moment she’d reached for him.

  “I miss you, Sarge.” Melted chocolate eyes, sincerity on his face…He was killing her. Absolutely killing her.

  “Well, I hate you,” she whispered, wishing she could mean it.

  He let loose a sideways grin. “You don’t.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said with a petulant pout, even as her arms moved to his neck and draped over his shoulders. Bad idea.

  He took advantage, laying his lips on hers as he tugged her flush with his torso, pressing her breasts to his chest and slanting his mouth to deepen their connection.

  Oh God. So good.

  She opened to him, savoring the flavor she hadn’t tasted in years. Years was a long time to go without Asher’s kiss. She’d kissed men before and since, yet none of them compared. But she wasn’t going to waste her time thinking of them. The nice, hazy little brain vacation she was partaking in at the moment was the dominating sensation in her world.

  So she enjoyed the smoky, whiskey flavor of his mouth and the way his tongue stroked hers, zapping electricity through her entire body like a hair dryer dropped into a tub of water. She touched his stubbled face, tugging him closer as she rocked her hips against one of his thighs.

  Hopeless. She was
completely hopeless when it came to him.

  When he finally lifted his lips from hers, it was to breathe a command she wouldn’t refuse. “My room.”

  Gloria didn’t think. For once, she didn’t think about their past, or other people, or the fact that she was jumping from the Frigidaire to the frying pan. She simply allowed him to link his fingers with hers and lead her up the mansion stairs to his guest room.

  * * *

  “Fucking perfect,” Asher praised from over Gloria’s head.

  Of course it was. If there was one thing she had perfected, it was the blow job. He was propped, his head on a pillow, one hand nested in her hair, his fingers stroking her scalp. She continued tasting him, and he tasted really, really good.

  Just like I remember.

  She grasped his shaft, taking the length of him, which was substantial, onto her tongue. He groaned, his rings scraping her head as he continued to thread his fingers into her hair, and a thought came that she couldn’t push away.

  This is going to end badly. Not the blow job, but the evening in general.

  He’d talked her into it because he was Asher Knight. With a pair of assaulting dark eyes and charisma to spare, he could cause the mass swooning of every female within a mile radius without trying. After what had happened between them, she could almost expect trouble to follow wherever he went. But he couldn’t resist her, and she couldn’t resist him.

  So here they were.

  His hips bucked and she shut down the tumultuous thoughts and smiled around her work, pleased with herself for pleasing him so thoroughly. His breathing went shallow and he lifted the length of her black hair from her face so he could watch what she was doing. She sneaked a peek to see his mouth dropped open, eyebrows pinched together in a so-much-pleasure-it-hurt expression.

  He was a beautiful, beautiful, sexy beast of a man, but that wasn’t the only reason why she liked being with him. Asher pushed her. Encouraged her to let go, to give in, to stop, at least for a little while, trying to control every tiny detail of her life. When she was with him, she could be present in the moment. As present as he was with her now.

  His fist wound in her hair and on her next upward sweep, he tugged her mouth off his cock. She licked her lips, arms still locked around his thighs, his leg hair tickling her breasts.

  “Get your very fine ass up here and ride me.” He gave her a lopsided smile, an irresistible tilt she couldn’t deny.

  Since she and Asher had imploded a little over two years ago, she’d been with other guys. And she knew he hadn’t kept his hands (or any of his other body parts) to himself since she quit him cold turkey after the Jordan Disaster. But now that they were here and they were naked and she’d had him in her mouth and he’d had his mouth all over her…

  God. She wanted him. Still. No matter what the truth or their past entailed.

  She vowed to just be here in this beautiful moment, take her release, give him his, and move the hell on. Tomorrow she’d reinstate her “no personal stuff with Asher” rule and they could go back to the way things were. Only she’d be a little more relaxed having achieved an orgasm that was better than “okay.”

  No guy made her feel the way Asher did—out of control but in it, safe while taking a risk. He was a portrait of opposing forces, and for the moment, he was all hers.

  Gloria crawled to meet him, sliding up his lean, muscular body. His chest and arms were inked, but she didn’t take the time to trace the patterns of his tattoos. Instead she focused on the lazy smile resting on his lips as she straddled his thighs. His fingers found her center and stroked, but there was no need to get her ready. Turning him on had turned her on and right now—in this bed, at this hour—getting turned on was all that mattered. She couldn’t let anything else matter. Not if she wanted to go back to business as usual tomorrow.

  He gripped her hips instead. “Slow, Sarge.”

  Sarge. The nickname came about because Ash insisted she “barked orders” at him whenever she had her “agent” hat on. He’d never let it go and she secretly liked that he’d kept referring to her as such, even though they weren’t together any longer. Or maybe not so secretly. She suspected he knew how much she liked it.

  He made short work of rolling on a condom and lined the head of his cock with her entrance. She held her breath as he slid deep, and threw her head back, a gasp leaving her lips. She hadn’t forgotten how great he felt, but she had tried. Oh, how she’d tried. The last thing she’d needed after he’d wronged her was to remember what she’d be missing. Now there was no denying it.

  Pushing onto her knees, she lifted off him and came back down, taking each of his nine inches—that rumor was one hundred percent true. She continued riding him, pressing her breasts together with the sides of her arms and resting her hands on his chest.

  “That’s it, honey.” His eyes slid to half-mast, focused squarely on her swaying breasts. “Fuck me. Fuck me.” His command was more of a plea, and Gloria felt her lips curl into a smile. She liked having control over him. In the constant play for who would end up on top, this time it was her. Literally.

  He took some of that control a moment later, sliding his hand from her hip to her lower back, his long fingers draped along the cleft of her ass as he drove her down onto him again. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations assaulting her body. The way she tingled from head to toe. The way her mind blanked and welcomed the oblivion; the rare moment when all she did was feel and not think.

  Utter bliss.

  “Give me your eyes,” he said, his voice low and deep and broken.

  “No,” she breathed, keeping them closed.

  She didn’t want to connect in any way other than the obvious. Nothing beyond the slippery penetration that would give them each what they needed. An orgasm. Anything more was…dangerous.

  His hand smoothed around her ass and at his next thrust, he anchored her to him, preventing her from moving. “Yes.”

  Her eyes snapped open. She stared down at him, her fingers moving over his chest hair. She opened her mouth to argue, but the moment she locked onto his dark eyes, she froze. His expression was soft, open. Revealing everything he’d kept hidden from her since they parted on not-so-great terms.

  “That’s it, Sarge,” he said like he’d hypnotized her. Maybe he had.

  She wanted to close her eyes—wanted to break the connection tying them together like a strong, unbreakable band. She just…couldn’t.

  Both palms on her hips, he encouraged her off him slowly, using his hands to slide her onto him again. Oh, that was the best. The way he sank deep, then pulled away, making her anticipate the next entry. Her mouth dropped open and a sigh of satisfaction eked from her throat. She put pressure against his chest, using her hands to assist him in lifting off her again. When she impaled herself this time, she kept her eyes trained on his.

  After a few minutes, their rhythm grew frantic. Asher’s eyes and mouth lost their lazy forms as a fierce, almost animal expression took its place. With a growl, he plunged, slamming into her. Then he pulled out, abruptly dropping her to her back and entering her. Taking charge of her again.

  “Oh!” she shouted, the sound sharp and satisfied.

  “Eyes,” he demanded when she focused on a spot over his shoulder.

  “Ash…”

  He grasped her chin, not forcing her but letting her know he wasn’t accepting half measures. Not tonight.

  She obeyed, watching him as he held her in place and stroked into her over and over.

  “Could fall into those pools, Sarge,” he muttered. “Blue skies, ocean waves”—he paused to suck in a satisfied breath when she clenched around him—“irises in the spring. Windows to your soul.”

  Sweetness oozed from each word he spoke. She hadn’t experienced many men being sweet to her in the past. But she had with Asher. His sweetness had a tang to it—a flavor she could taste on the back of her tongue.

  “God, I missed you.” His humor vanished as quickly as it came.


  Her heart seized. She’d opened up for him when she’d given him her eyes. It was the tiniest crack, but he’d widened the gap. This was a bad idea.

  A bad, bad, bad-boy idea.

  “That’s a song, baby.” He grinned.

  No way.

  “Well, you’re not stopping to write it down,” she informed him between erratic breaths, trying her damnedest to regain footing even as she fell apart beneath him. This was sex for sex’s sake. She needed to remember that.

  “Fuck, no, I’m not,” he said. “But you can help me remember.”

  Help him remember to write a song about her? No, she did not think so. It was one thing to be in his bed, to extract pleasure from him—to give him pleasure, to be on the receiving end of his teasing. It was another to have Asher pen a song about her.

  No, thank you very much.

  “My turn. On your back.” She pushed against his shoulders, desperate to regain some control.

  “Forget it.” His eyes sparkled in that playful way she’d always admired. “I’m going to hold you down and make you come and you’re going to look at me when I do it.”

  She lost the will to argue whenever he watched her this intently. This single-mindedly. And wasn’t that what it had been like to be with Asher from the start? When she was with him, he was thinking only of her. She’d never been with a guy who was so undeniably present. Fleeting though it was…

  Their gazes locked, and all of her softened. From her fingernails raking over his pectoral muscles to her heels resting on his ass. His playful spark shifted into something much more intense. He slowed his movements, lowering over her, and she realized there was no escaping the shared intimacy between them. It was there, carving a path into her very soul.

  And she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

  Reverence was written on Asher’s expression. He was in control, moving in and out of her, thumbing her nipple the way he knew she liked, kissing her while he plunged deeper and deeper still. Gloria, her legs wound around him, tilted her hips to accept every last inch of him.