The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 1) Page 20

  He let out a sigh, but she grabbed his tie and pulled him to stand between her legs. Once he was there, he wasn’t inclined to leave.

  “Mom and Dad were a nightmare,” he said, teasing. “They were insanely in love, but in a house full of boys, the gross-out factor was high. “All over each other. Kissing in the kitchen, making out in the pool. Once I walked in on them on the couch in the living room and they said they were cuddling. After I aged up a few years, I knew exactly what they were doing.”

  “So Magda means we’re demonstrative.” She loosened the knot of his tie, which had never in his life been sexy until Merina started doing it. “Hmm.”

  Hmm. That sounded as dangerous as “fine” and “never mind.”

  “She’s known you a long time, then?”

  “Since I was ten. She was part-time then, raising her own kids.”

  “I didn’t know she has children,” Merina said, eyes brightening.

  “I didn’t know you cared,” he said as Merina finished undoing his tie. “She has three.” Merina unbuttoned his top button and then one more and stroked her fingers down his throat.

  “My parents kiss each other on the cheek and on the forehead,” she said, continuing to drive him wild. “They lovingly bicker. But I can’t say I’ve ever seen them passionate with each other.” She screwed her face into a cute look of disgust. “Eww.”

  “You aren’t missing out.” His hands moved down her back and over her bra. With the flick of a thumb, he unclasped it.

  “You’re good at that.” She pursed her lips. “I guess you’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “A trap I refuse to walk into.”

  “Smart man.” Holding both sides of his tie, she tugged him closer, but still didn’t kiss him. “Tell me about your mom.”

  “Merina.” He backed away but she had a grip on his tie and he didn’t get far.

  “Other than the fact you named your boat after her.”

  “It’s a yacht.” He pulled a hand through his hair, feeling uncomfortable. None of them talked about Mom. Not because of a written code, they just…didn’t.

  “How did she die? I don’t need gory details, just the facts.”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “How would I know?” she asked.

  He was stalling and she wasn’t letting it go, or letting him out of it. And really, what was the harm in discussing Lunette Crane? But the urge to hide, to keep the details of his personal life private, was strong.

  Habits. Years and years of habits. Merina’s fingers stroked over his skin again. He met her eyes and told her the truth.

  “She was driving to work one day and was involved in a three-car pileup involving two semis.”

  Merina winced, and before he could stop himself, he told her the gory details anyway.

  “Hers was the compact car in the middle.”

  “Reese…” She shook her head, pain searing her pretty face.

  “One day she was sending us out the door to school, and that night she wasn’t home. A few days later I was saying good-bye to a wooden box.” He didn’t know if the position of his mouth was a sad smile or a grimace. “She was a beautiful woman, but there wasn’t enough left of her to reconstruct for the funeral.”

  One of Merina’s hands left his tie to cover her mouth. Something about her reaction—her shock, the pain in her eyes, the tenderness she showed him when she gently rested a palm on his chest—drew him in instead of pushing him away. The last five years had been about enjoying a woman’s company for the short-term, and conversations rarely if ever veered into “how did your mom die” territory.

  Keeping Merina at arm’s length was something he’d thought he could do, but that idea was becoming less and less desirable. The more she was around, the more he realized he liked talking to her. He moved her hair over one shoulder and stroked a finger over super-soft skin and along the collar of her shirt. Once there, he undid one of the delicate pearl buttons.

  “I shouldn’t have asked.” Her eyes were glassy, her mind no doubt locked on the horrors he’d described.

  “You deserve to know. It’s something a wife should know about her husband.” He wanted to distract her. To erase her pain. Especially since it was for him. Seeing it sliced into him. Deep. He undid another button and parted her shirt. “Your turn.”

  “My turn?” Distraught, her mouth sagged.

  So he did what came naturally, lowered his lips to the edge of her tattoo and pressed a kiss against the ink.

  She caught his head and breathed a heated sigh into his ear.

  “You have a story, Merina.” He took the kiss she wouldn’t give him earlier. When she tried to deepen it, he denied her, robbing her of his mouth. “Tell me. I’ve earned it.”

  * * *

  Reese swept broad fingers over her tattoo. The point at one end down to the bright flames streaking from the end.

  “What’s it mean?” he asked, his voice low. He ran the tip of his finger back over her body art.

  “You wouldn’t appreciate it.” Her voice came out husky, his touch turning her on. Truthfully, he’d been turning her on since he mentioned wanting to “fuck her.” A phrase she was sure she didn’t like before she’d met Reese Crane. What was it about this man that flipped her world upside down?

  “Try me.” Navy eyes snapped to hers. His fingers dipped between her breasts and then over one of her nipples.

  She sucked in a breath, locking her high-heeled shoes behind his knees. She supposed she owed him a personal story. Being physical with him was easy, sharing…not so much. They’d come this far. He hadn’t pulled punches when he told her of his mother, a story that absolutely broke her heart.

  “I grew up in the Van Heusen hotel,” she told him. “Part-time. The VH was my home in a lot of ways. I played in the hallways, helped the housekeepers with laundry. Sat with Arnold for hours while he worked the desk.”

  “The older man. I’ve seen him.”

  “He’s been there for years. The flames”—she undid another button and slipped the shirt off her shoulder, revealing the arrow in full—“are a theme.”

  His eyes held hers for an impressive few seconds before recognition sparked, then he moved to her tattoo and his lips curved into a small smile.

  “The Phoenix.” He opened another button on her shirt. “That building rose from the ashes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you rise from the ashes, too, Merina?” The last button open, he removed the shirt from her arms, his gaze finding hers unerringly.

  “In a way.” Cool air hit her bare breasts when he took her bra off. Her heart hammered, half afraid he would ask her about her past, half relieved when he didn’t.

  “Why an arrow?” Both hands covering her breasts, he lowered his head and forged a trail of kisses down her neck.

  Her eyes on the ceiling, she had to remind her tongue how to form words as he dragged his tantalizing mouth to her collarbone.

  “It’s a popular symbol,” she breathed, goose bumps dotting her skin. A small squeak left her lips when he lightly licked one nipple. He tweaked them with his fingers, kissing her and swallowing her sounds of satisfaction.

  “I want to know what it means to you, Merina.” Oh, the way he said her name. Low and tender and filled with authority. He tugged her nipples, sending a flood of heat to the apex of her thighs. “Tell me, or I’ll stop.”

  His tug turned into a tweak.

  “Okay.” Merina tightened her legs around his. She didn’t want him to stop. Which he must’ve figured out, because next, he grinned. One of those Reese Crane grins that weakened her knees and made her want to punch him in the throat.

  “An arrow…can only move forward…by being pulled back,” she answered in between breaths and the pulls of his distracting, kneading fingers. “It’s stronger for it.”

  “You’re driven.” Mouth covering the pulse at her neck, he sucked her skin for a mind-melting second before speaking against her damp flesh. “A quali
ty I admire.”

  Head lifted, he zoomed in on her again, and she squirmed. Not only from his sexual attention but also the way he seemed to see her in that moment. Like he was really seeing her. It made her feel more naked than when she was actually naked.

  “Not surprising.” She jerked her eyes to another spot in the room. “You’re equally driven.”

  “The Van Heusen is more than a building to you.” Fingers on her jaw, he guided her face back to his.

  “Yes. Isn’t the Crane more to you?”

  His eyes went to the side in thought, giving her a brief reprieve from his intense focus. “Not really.”

  “You mean if someone wanted to redesign your building, you would let them?” She found that hard to believe.

  “No one would redesign my building without my permission.”

  “Because you’d never bankrupt yourself and have to sell it to the local vultures who—” A gasp swallowed the rest of her words. Reese had dipped his attention to her breasts again. She was beginning to think they were the most sensitive to his kisses.

  A few mind-numbing ministrations later, and she’d forgotten what they were talking about.

  “Stop teasing me.” Clutching the back of his hair, she kissed him hard, driving her tongue into his mouth. She tore at his shirt, rewarded by the sound of two buttons plinking off the edge of the stainless steel sink.

  He responded by kissing her just as hard, his hands moving her skirt up and finding her panties before tearing them down her legs. She worked his belt open but didn’t get further before he stepped back. He took care of freeing himself, his erection pointing out and up in all its powerful glory.

  Her mouth watered. His physicality paired with his formidability her own personal catnip.

  Hands on her hips, he tugged her ass to the edge of the counter. She rested a hand on his cheek and his expression softened.

  “You okay?” His voice was low with concern, his brows closing in slightly. She wasn’t okay. She was in a fantastically compromising position with Reese and she didn’t mean because she was perched on the counter. It was the last several minutes that had her chest pinging in warning. They’d discussed private things—not business, but how they felt. Intimacy on a new level, and now they were going to seal it with sex.

  Danger, danger, her mind chanted.

  She ignored it. She could handle the split between being physical and emotional. She could. She would.

  “Condom.”

  He blinked twice as if snapping out of a trance.

  “Wallet.” He dug out the foil packet, a few hundred-dollar bills fluttering free of the money clip and sailing to the floor. He ignored them. She laughed. That was so…him.

  “I need to get back on the pill,” she said to cover for her amusement.

  “No shit,” he said, the condom packet clamped between his teeth.

  He was disgustingly handsome. They smiled at each other, then Reese tore open the packet and put on the protection neither of them wanted to use.

  She opened her legs wider and welcomed her against his body. When he needed more space to maneuver, he swept the cutting board, knife, and avocado into the sink and pulled her down on his hardness.

  Yes.

  Eyes closed, she clung to his neck and shoulders and enjoyed the feel of his big hands on her bare ass. She lost one of her shoes as she attempted to grip him tighter, and Reese had a near miss with the cabinet handle just over her shoulder. He cupped her head between thrusts to protect her from a similar fate.

  “Dangerous,” she breathed, but the word had double meaning. It wasn’t as dangerous to have sex with Reese amidst knives and cabinets as it was to do it after talking about his intimate family history and her private tattoo not even her parents knew about. It was dangerous to discuss birth control and having sex with nothing between them.

  Except a contract.

  Yeah, except for that.

  “Merina.” He hoisted her in his arms and drove deep, teeth bared and eyes heated. There was another emotion mingling there she couldn’t place. Heat, yes, passion, you bet, but almost…solace.

  Like she was his refuge.

  “I’m here.” She ran her fingertip over his lips.

  His intense gaze suggested he’d noticed her mind wandered. She wondered if he’d figured out in which direction…or if his had wandered down the same path.

  Dangerous.

  * * *

  Back flat on the kitchen floor, Reese threw an arm over his face and caught his breath. His shirt was still on, his pants around his knees, and the floor was freezing his backside. Marble wasn’t known for its warmth, but the rest of him was buzzing and humming enough to heat every inch of him.

  Merina.

  Sex with her might be the death of him. Or at least the man he’d become post-Gwyneth.

  Merina’s subtle touch rippled over his abdomen. His muscles clenched as he tried to channel whatever strength he could to keep from reacting. If she found out he was ticklish, he was screwed. Her fingers stilled.

  “Oh, come on,” she said, her voice husky. Sexy. She placed a kiss on his belly button and his muscles tightened again.

  “What are you doing?” He tried to sound and look pissed when he moved his arm and grimaced at her, but his composure was shaky. And she knew it.

  “You are!” She grinned wide. “Oh my God!” She raked her fingers lightly over his stomach and he let out a half-grunt. He snatched her wrists and called up every ounce of control he possessed.

  “Merina, stop it.”

  But she didn’t stop it. Apparently his “mad” tone needed work.

  She threw her naked body over his partially clothed one and wrestled one of her hands free. He swiped the air in an attempt to grab her, but not before she dug her fingers into his ribs. Unable to keep from it, he let out a howl of a laugh. She didn’t let up and soon he was laughing so hard, he feared he might break something. Especially after a potentially bone-breaking orgasm that had left him devoid of enough strength to resist.

  “Please,” he wheezed, reaching for her tickling hand again and missing it.

  “He begs,” Merina said between elated giggles.

  “For the love of Christ!” That came out in a shaky whisper. He’d finally lost his damn voice from laughter. That was a first. Finally, he got a vise grip on her other hand. Rolling her onto her back, he trapped her beneath him. He watched as her eyes smiled along with her mouth.

  When he managed a full breath, he grumbled, “You’re impossible.”

  “And you’re ticklish.” So damn proud of herself. He liked that look. Too much. Enough to want to see her proud of her accomplishments again. Would she feel that way when he handed over the Van Heusen? Would she be proud she’d earned it back at the cost of marrying him for a few soul-stealing months?

  The thought made him frown.

  “I’m not ticklish,” he argued. “That was a rare postcoital reaction.”

  “Did you just use the word postcoital?” She laughed the word and something in the center of his chest unfurled.

  He felt light and happy and…weird. Weird because feeling both light and happy wasn’t what he was accustomed to.

  “You’d think after the counter, the kitchen chair”—her eyes rolled up and to the left, where Reese had taken her on his lap a few minutes ago—“then sliding me halfway across this ice-cold floor, you’d have a dirtier word for it.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he sneered, but secretly he admired her teasing tone as much as he’d admired her puckering nipples.

  “I would like to warm up,” she said.

  “Fair enough.” He kept hold of her wrists and pulled her up so that she was sitting. “That, I can fix.” When he knew he could scramble away safely, he let her go. Then he stood and tore off the remainder of his suit. Once he was bare-assed naked and Merina had climbed to her feet, he lifted her into his arms. He carried her out of the kitchen, around to the back of the house, and into the enclosed
pool room.

  “Hot tub,” she breathed. He put her down and opened the door to the enclosure.

  “Second best way to warm up.” The first being sex.

  “I forgot we had a hot tub.”

  We.

  Here came the feeling of “weird” all over again.

  “You’re genius.” She lifted to her toes, sliding her body along the length of his, to put a soft kiss on his mouth. For a change he wasn’t thinking of his dick or the fact that he’d be between her legs soon. He was thinking of how he’d pleased her. How she’d referred to what they had together. The we could have been a slip of the tongue, and yeah, it was just a hot tub, but that implied co-ownership was something he hadn’t experienced in…a while.

  Then she was off, strolling around the edge of the pool to the hot tub and stepping down into the square of hot water. He watched her curvy, naked body sink lower and lower.

  “Coming?” she called, not bothering to hide her breasts beneath the bubbles.

  God. This woman.

  “Hell yes,” he answered, trying to sound like his old cocky self and not like the unhinged sap he was turning into. He sank into the water. She glided over, breasts slicking over his chest, her leg rubbing his thigh. His dormant cock sprang to life.

  There. Good old-fashioned lust. That, he knew what to do with.

  “Your stamina…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but she looked impressed with her mouth forming a little “O.”

  “Still can’t pay me a compliment?” He almost said “After all we’ve been through” but bit his tongue in time.

  “You don’t need one,” she said flatly. Since it was smart to feed that assumption, he did.

  “You’re right. I have my own hashtag.”

  She laughed, a sensual chuckle, and moved to sit next to him. He leaned back, his arm resting behind her head. She hummed a low, pleased sound and he closed his eyes, enjoying holding her.

  “There’s a bedroom over here,” she pointed out, a fact he didn’t need or want to be reminded of. He hadn’t thought of his and Gwyneth’s former bedroom since the night he and Merina were lost in the bowels of this house. “Why didn’t you choose this as the master suite? It’s huge and opens to the pool.”