Betting the Billionaire (10 page)

Gabe winked. “Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled out a condom, and made quick work of his T-shirt and jeans, leaving them piled in front of the doorway.

She’d thought he was hot with his clothes on. Her first sight of him completely naked and hard made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. Tall, broad-shouldered, and all sinewy muscle from calf to pectoral, she couldn’t help herself from reaching out and tracing her way from his flat cafe-au-lait-colored nipple, down his six-pack abs, and around his thick girth.

“Come here.” She lead him by the cock over to the loveseat in the loft’s living room. Releasing him was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment but necessary for her next move. She pressed her fingertips to his shoulders and pushed.

He landed with a soft thump on the loveseat, still holding the foil square.

“That won’t do. Let me have that.” Keisha swiped the condom from his fingers and dropped to her knees. Anticipation thrummed through her as if she hadn’t just had a body-melting orgasm, but she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she buried himself deep inside her. Her need for him went beyond physical to something she wasn’t yet ready to define. Unwilling to wait any long, she ripped the package open and unrolled the latex down his thickness, relishing the blissed-out agony of his moan as she did so. “Do you want me?”

Her heart hiccupped as she realized his answer mattered. Really mattered.

Gabe leaned forward and pinched her nipple between his thumb and finger, rolling the needy nub and pulling it with just the right about of pressure. “Only since you first told me to take my money and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I’m all heart.”

Whatever he was about to say next died on his lips as she sheathed his hard cock inside her.

Gabe’s large hands held her ass, rocking her hips forward, and she lowered herself to meet his thrusts again and again. She arched her back, bending like a bow, pleasure making her quiver. Moving one hand from his knee, she reached around and cupped his balls, squeezing lightly, his appreciative moan sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

Just when she thought she’d gone as high as she could go, Gabe slid his hand around and his fingers circled her clit. “I want to feel you climax while I’m fucking you.”

His words coupled with the magic of his fingers and dick had her tossing her head back in pleasure. The world exploded around her again, and her hips rocketed forward, coming down hard on him as her orgasm ripped through her. A few thrusts later, his orgasm followed.

They sat there for a few minutes with her legs wrapped around his narrow waist and his head resting on her shoulder, both of them trying to regain their hold on reality.

“Tell me you got the offer for the job in Harbor City.” His words tickled her still sensitive skin, causing an army of goose bumps to stand at attention.

“I did.” Like a well-satisfied cat, she stretched against him, her breasts pressed against his hard chest.

He relaxed against the back of the loveseat, pulling her with him so that she covered him and her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder. “Please say you said yes.”

She grinned, his interest setting off a flock of hummingbirds in her stomach. “Right before I came here today.”

“Thank God.” He whispered the words against her hair as his breathing steadied.

She planted a palm on the couch and pushed up to look into his half-closed eyes. “Why, are we finished tonight already?”

He grinned and gave her ass a playful slap. “Oh, honey, this is far from over.”

Chapter Eleven

Happy chaos ruled at the Beauchamp’s new house. Most of Salvation had squeezed into the three-bedroom bungalow, eating finger food from The Kitchen Sink in front of a giant Welcome Home banner hanging from the ceiling. The cold, winter breeze wafted in through the open windows, minimizing the body heat from the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and the fresh paint fumes lingered throughout the house. Keisha took a sip of coffee, peeking over the edge of her cup in search of Gabe. They’d come over to the house together in his Aston Martin—he’d even let her drive—but he’d disappeared to the front porch to take a phone call.

“You did good, Baby Girl.” Her dad shuffled over to her side, a paper plate starting to give under the weight of deep fried goodness in one hand and the other hand gripping his cane.

In the middle of the dining room stood the table. The youngest Beauchamp, six-year-old Heather, sat playing Barbie under the new dining table, one of the few uncrowded spots in the house filled to the rafters with family and friends. The morning light picked up the different shades of blue swimming up the center of the tabletop, a river of hope for a new home and a new beginning.

Maybe her fresh start, too.

“It wasn’t just me.” She caught a flash of Gabe through the living room window, then he disappeared beyond her sight line. “You better not let mom see you with that.”

Her dad popped a deep fried Oreo into his mouth, but not before his gaze traveled over the crowd—presumable for sight of her mom. “So you really think he’s going to stick to his word?” He didn’t mention Gabe by name, but he didn’t have to. “That young man made a lot of promises this morning about helping us get our clients back.”

“I think Gabe feels guilty for what he did.”

He snorted. “We’ve all done stupid things for the people we love.” Her dad shoveled another Oreo into his mouth, happily crunching it to oblivion.

Keisha delivered a quick kiss to the top of his gray hair and squeezed her way through the crowd to the front door. A handful of people braved the cold temperatures in exchange for some elbow room.

Gabe stood on the other end of the enclosed porch, his phone pressed up against one ear and a finger pressed against the other to block out noise.

Gabe sucked in a deep breath and tried to keep the edge out of his voice. After all, it wasn’t his mother’s fault he’d gone all comic-book-backstory-revenge crazy. No, that had been his own stupid overreaction.

“Mom, you’re right. I should have come to you first.” He sucked in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to alleviate the headache making mincemeat out of his brain. “But when I saw the police report, I freaked out.”

“I should say so,
mijo
. I couldn’t believe the story your cousin Carlos told me this morning.”

“He shouldn’t have said anything.” Not that he blamed Carlos. After being on the receiving end of his mom’s interrogations, he knew there was no getting out of it without spilling everything.

“If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and it’s one we should have had years ago.” Her softly accented voice shook. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Cesar adopted you before you were a year old. He has, for all intents and purposes, been your father.”

They were both silent as she took in gulps of air in an effort to stop the tears he knew were flowing down her round cheeks.

“I know.” He sighed in frustration at how he’d hurt his mom. God, this whole thing had turned into a mess. This would be the last time he’d trust his gut on something that didn’t involve spreadsheets and finical reports. “I just got so used to being right about everything that I couldn’t imagine being wrong about something so important.”

“You’re a smart boy,
mijo
. You’ll find your way. Your gut’s still good, you just had mental indigestion.”

He thought of last night with Keisha. The image of her tossing back her head in ecstasy flashed in his mind. The way she’d danced in her chair when she’d kicked his ass at cards in her tiny apartment during the snowstorm. He could still hear her gleeful giggle as she opened up the Aston Martin on the highway.

“What if you’re wrong?” Just asking the question shook him.

“A mother is never wrong when it comes to her child.”

He laughed. “Well, at least I know where I get my certainty from.”

“I’m ignoring that. Come home,
mijo
. This is a conversation we need to have in person, not over the phone.”

A colorful flash caught his attention. Keisha leaned against the house at the other end of the porch, watching him and obviously waiting for him to get off the phone. “I’ll be home by dinner.”

“Perfect. I’m making your favorite cheese and onion enchiladas.”

“See you then.” He hung up and forced the ache in his chest into the background. It was a long drive back to Harbor City. He’d have plenty of time to regret all he had to leave behind then.

The woman before him was everything he wanted in this world, but he couldn’t go off half-cocked again. He had to ignore his sixth sense urging him to wrap her up and make her his right now. He had to be patient and give her a chance to find her own way.

He could wait.

Staring at her, though, was like seeing everything he ever wanted in the world wrapped up in one beautiful person. An invisible hand squeezed his lungs until he stood gasping for oxygen. He had to get the fuck out of here before he ruined everything again.

Nervous energy had Keisha twitching as Gabe finished his conversation. Standing off to the side out of his eye-line, she felt like a stalker or like she was back in high school mooning over a crush.

Damn girl, grow a pair. You slept together, it
’
s not like you already picked out baby names.

Raising her chin and straightening her shoulders, she strutted across the porch with more confidence than she had in the reserve tank. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

Gabe shot her a half smile, the vein in his temple pulsing like a jackhammer, before his phone vibrated in his hand.

Keisha chuckled. “Don’t tell me the billionaire boy wonder has problems.”

“You know what they say. More money, more problems.” He grimaced and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Look, I hate to do this, but I have to get back to Harbor City.”

“Oh, really? You have to go?”

Wow, that didn
’
t sound desperate at all, K.

“Some meetings can’t be put off any longer. Sorry.” He brushed his lips across the middle of her forehead before giving her a bitter smile and heading down the driveway.

She lowered her head and pressed her lips tight before she could utter anything stupid. Keisha didn’t know what she expected, but dammit, why couldn’t it be more than this? She closed her arms around her clenching stomach, hoping the warmth would melt the disappointment freezing her from the inside out. Her chest tightened, but not before she inhaled Gabe’s sandalwood scent clinging to the wool coat.

His coat!

“Hey!” She hustled across the driveway, sliding her arms out of his wool coat. “Don’t forget your coat.”

Gabe paused, his hand on the car’s door handle. He tilted his head down, almost fast enough to hide the grim lines crisscrossing his forehead and the hard set to his jaw.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He took the coat, their fingers brushing against each other and sending a bolt of electricity dancing across her skin. “We’ll have to catch dinner one of these days when you move to Harbor City.”

She flexed her fingers, trying her best to ignore the belly flop-inducing attraction he always caused as well as the chest-tightening sadness settling in her stomach. She knew a blow-off when she heard it. “Sure.”

“Okay.” He swallowed hard and rammed his long fingers through his thick hair. “I’ll see you then.”

Limbs as heavy as waterlogged lumber, Keisha stood in the middle of the driveway as the Aston Martin pulled onto the main road and headed for the interstate and Harbor City beyond. The wind’s icy fingers clawed at her skin, but she couldn’t go in. Not yet. Not while there was a chance his brake lights would flash cherry and he’d come back.

She shoved her icicle hands deep into her pockets and shivered alone as the taillights shrank in the distance, growing smaller and smaller until they disappeared. Keisha stared at the empty road and chewed the inside of her cheek until the physical pain matched the figurative ache in her chest from the beating her heart had just taken.

Chapter Twelve

The wind whipped against the closed bay doors at Fix ‘Er Up, making a
whump-whump
sound as the metal doors accepted the pummeling. If only she could do the same. But the same honeyed voice kept playing in her head, stuck on repeat since Gabe said goodbye after the big reveal at the Beauchamp’s new house three days ago.

“
We
’
ll have to catch dinner one of these days.
”

Then—poof—he was gone. What had she expected? The extra key to his penthouse? An invitation to cruise the world on his yacht? More wild, hot, make-you-forget-the-rest-of-the-world-existed sex? Okay, that last one would have been nice. But she was a big enough girl to recognize a polite blow-off when she got one.

So flicked the latch and raised the Thunderbird’s hood. Some people did yoga. Others drank. She found nirvana when she had grease under her nails and an unobstructed view of a carburetor. With only a few days to go before she drove the packed U-Haul to Harbor City to start her new job, she needed to take advantage of the opportunity to commune with her baby while she still could. The view of shining metal and a carefully restored engine should have made her giddy with pride.

It didn’t.

She pulled the rolling toolbox nearer. This blue funk was nothing a little valve stem replacement couldn’t kick in the ass. Hanging her hand towel on the hook attached to the toolbox, she eyeballed the cylinder heads. The valve stems didn’t need replacing. She glanced under the hood, searching for something—anything—to keep her hands busy. She’d adjusted the valve lash last week, and the timing was as spot on as it could be.

“I’d offer to help, but what I know about cars wouldn’t fill the gas tank.” Gabe stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders taking up almost all the space.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Damn, he looked good in a navy blue suit, checked shirt, and gold tie. The man wasn’t shy about his style, and she liked that. Almost as much as she liked how his tailor managed to highlight every muscle in Gabe’s chest without showing any skin. Or the way his black frames brightened his blue eyes. Or his sexy smile, half hidden by his trim beard. Or…well…everything.