Billionaire Games (4 page)

W
hen Claire turned
into the driveway of her three-bedroom house situated on a corner lot, she wasn’t really surprised to see the black SUV with dark-tinted windows taking up her entire driveway. She parked in front of her house and then got out, not looking when the door opened, nor when the man who emerged from the vehicle came to stand behind her.

Instead she unlocked the door, flipped on her porch light, and dropped her keys. Then she kicked off her shoes as she always did, and then, finally, when she was as at home as she thought she could be, she turned to face him.

The triumphant gleam in his eye was something he didn’t even bother to hide.

“I take it Mr. Winsome has gotten my message?”

“They shut down all his projects. Are you happy now, Simeon?” she asked, her voice low and angry.

“That was just temporary, something to remind you, in case you forgot after this morning that I am a man of my word. And it’s only a taste of what’s to come. Unless, of course, you hold up your end of the bargain.”

She shook her head, trying to deny that what he said was true, trying even harder to pretend she didn’t want it be. Deep down, she’d known it would come to this, and as she looked at Simeon now, she knew he had too. People had often missed the beautiful brain behind his bruising demeanor and brutish size, but as she watched him and the cold calculation in his eyes, she was reminded it was still as razor-sharp as ever.

He’d considered all the angles, had arranged things just like this so that he would know she didn’t have a choice. She looked at him, saw that cold glint in his eye, and again hated herself for her reaction to him.

She also hated him for doing this to her, for forcing her hand. She would have ignored her body, pretended she didn’t want him with everything she had, but she wouldn’t let her parents suffer.

And Simeon knew that, because she had told him many, many times how much they meant to her, had told him that she would do anything for them.

Now he was putting her words to the test.

“Outline the terms,” she said, unable to hide the defeated note in her voice but praying more than anything that he’d missed the faint trace of desire that had animated her words.

He hadn’t. His coldly victorious smile proved as much.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, but I’ll indulge you, just this once,” he said.

“Explain the terms, without the theatrics,” she said, voice firmer this time.

“You belong to me, to do with what I please, for six weeks. Then you can go back to your regular little life, continuing to forget I ever existed, and I’ll do the same. That’s the bargain,” he said.

Continue?

He thought that she didn’t think of him, think of
them
, but he was wrong. She thought of him far too often, and had thought of this reunion far too often, not that she could admit that now.

She met his eyes again but then looked lower, let her gaze caress his broad shoulders and equally broad chest. Then she looked to his hands, her nipples pulling tight as she wondered how they would feel on her. Were they soft now, the hands of a man who had enough money and resources to never have to lift a finger? Or would they be rough, scrape against her skin with enough friction to set her off like a rocket?

Dampness pooled between her thighs, and in an instant, the drum of desire began pounding between them, going from nothing to insistent in the blink of an eye. She met Simeon’s eyes again, and then it occurred to her that this was an opportunity.

She wanted to move on. She was nearing thirty with no prospects in sight. And all because of him.

She’d constructed an image of him, one that was only barely tarnished by the awful way he had discarded her, and she’d clung to it, used it as the measure to which no other man could compare.

But she was older now, wiser, and even if her body still craved him, she could keep her mind from him, detach herself from whatever game Simeon might want to play. And at the same time, she could be with him again, get him out of her system, and free herself from his hold once and for all.

She wanted a family, children, and that couldn’t happen if she was stuck on him. But if she did this, she could finally break the hold, move on from the memories that had held her for all this time.

She lifted her eyes to his, her blue clashing with the deep brown of his.

“You have a deal,” she said.

That triumphant look only intensified, and then deepened into something different, something predatory, something that had her squirming where she stood.

“I knew you’d see reason, rich girl.”

He reached into his suit jacket pocket and retrieved an envelope. “From my doctor. You’ll visit him tomorrow and get yours as well,” he said.

She looked down at the envelope she now held and then quickly read the paper. When she finished reading the results, she glanced up at him again. “Wait, so you mean no—”

“That’s right, rich girl. There’s not going to be anything between us,” he said.

Her traitorous body tightened and her sex clenched at the idea of Simeon inside her, with nothing between them, yet she resisted. That barrier was something she needed, was perhaps one of the only ways she’d be able to keep herself distant.

“How do I know they’re current?” she asked.

Simeon smiled. “They are,” he replied.

“I’m supposed to take your word for it? These are from eight weeks ago. You could have done whatever with whoever,” she said, waving her hand.

He smiled deeper, moved closer. “No. I haven’t been with anyone. I’ve been saving myself for you, rich girl, and I have a lot to give you,” he said on a deep whisper that rang with promise.

His hand on her cheek, caressing her, made her look at him again, and quickly, an imagine of Simeon sliding his thick bare cock into her, the sensation of his hot cum filling her, made her flush.

“I can see you like the idea,” he said, tracing a hand down her cheek.

His fingertips were still rough, his hands not soft and pampered, but strong, commanding, hands that would demand her pleasure and not relent until she gave it.

She couldn’t stop herself from shivering, the tension of his strong fingers against her skin making it impossible for her not to. Then he dropped his hand lower, down the front of her chest and into the simple white blouse she had changed into.

He kept moving lower until his hand rested on the edge of her bra, his fingers just skimming the tops of her breasts.

Her nipples pulled tight with the desire for him to touch them but instead he lifted his hand and removed it from her shirt.

A moment’s worth of disappointment filled her, but it was chased away by the heavy weight of his hand against her skirt-clad leg.

It was a simple garment, one of the heavy khaki skirts that she favored when she wasn’t working, but with his hand at top it, the skirt felt like nothing, his palm nearly searing her skin with the heat of it.

He came closer, hand still latched on her thigh, and then he dropped it and began to roll the skirt up her legs from the hem.

The cool air that hit her thighs and then crept closer to the heat between her legs was what she focused on.

She didn’t look at him, couldn’t, and as shameful as it was, she just focused on his movement, the slow, methodical way he lifted her skirt only amplifying her need.

The moment seemed to drag, but it was only a few seconds later that he had the skirt hoisted around her waist, her panties bared to the air and to his eyes.

All of a sudden a little shock of embarrassment hit her.

Simeon had seen her, all of her, repeatedly, but there had been years since then, and her chubby body had only become more so with the years and pounds she had added.

It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her. She should hate him for what he was doing, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought, wonder what he saw when he looked her.

And then she couldn’t wonder because all of her energy, her attention, was forced between her thighs as he moved his fingers up and then settled them at the seat of her plain cotton panties.

He pressed against her, and the dampness that had pooled in her panties was pushed against her sex, making her shiver. Simeon’s low chuckle proved that he could sense it as well, and he stroked his fingers against her and then used his thumb to press against her protruding clit. The moan that fell from her lips made a denial impossible.

“You do like the idea. I can feel your pussy is hot and wet for me. You still want me, rich girl?”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, but what she’d intended as a strong rebuke instead came out as a needy whisper.

“What should I call you instead?” he asked casually as if he wasn’t using his fingers to drive her to the edge of insanity.

She was on the brink of something; the intensity of his hand between her thighs and his fingers touching her was driving her up, but the barrier of her panties kept her from reaching the climax that burned at the edges of her consciousness, the lightness of the touch only making her crave more, a craving Simeon seemed in no hurry to fill.

“Claire. Call me Claire,” she said, voice still breathy, but Claire somehow managing to put weight behind the words.

He chuckled again. “I think I’ll call you rich girl,” he said.

She lifted her eyes to him then, and for a moment her lungs squeezed in her chest. His dark eyes were deep, passionate and, to her surprise, almost soft. If he wasn’t wearing a suit, wasn’t in the process of trying to destroy her, she could almost believe he was the man she had loved those years ago.

Reason must have fled because before she could stop herself, she lifted her hand and reached for his cheek. His jaw was warm, rough from stubble, and then he was gone.

He jumped away from her as if burned by fire and dropped his hand. His eyes, so light only a moment ago, flattened, and he turned back into the stone-cold, impenetrable person she had met earlier in the day.

“That’s enough for now, rich girl,” he said. “Doctor’s appointment is at twelve. A car will come to retrieve you at seven in the evening Friday. Bring nothing.”

“When will I get to come back?” she asked.

He looked at her, looked her over from head to toe and then back again, making her feel ridiculous, her skirt hiked up, heart pounding from a few of his touches.

“When I’m done with you,” he said.

And then, walking as though he wasn’t affected at all, he left.

“
T
ake me to the penthouse
,” Simeon said to his driver once he reached the car.

Then he lifted the vehicle’s privacy screen and settled into the backseat. He’d managed to keep it together in front of Claire, but now that he was alone, he allowed himself to relax just a little and stop fighting the adrenaline that pulsed through him.

Simeon had spent years and countless hours plotting his and Claire’s eventual reunion. His move, her countermove, every potential outcome considered and then considered again. And all of that planning had been in anticipation of the minutes that had just unfolded, the very second she gave in.

It had gone exactly as he’d planned.

He’d known she wouldn’t fold immediately; his rich girl was a stubborn, prideful creature, something that her soft exterior made it easy to overlook. But Simeon hadn’t made that mistake, which was why he’d spent eighteen months procuring the architectural firm in absolute secrecy. He’d paid a premium, one that would have been forfeit if word of the acquisition had leaked out.

As he’d negotiated the purchase of the firm, taking time from his schedule to personally oversee every aspect, something that had raised the curiosity of his staff and others, he’d made it quite forcefully known that Claire Winsome was off-limits and that anyone who employed her would be on his personal blacklist.

When she’d left this afternoon, he hadn’t reacted immediately. Instead, he’d waited, allowed her to get comfortable. Claire was stubborn, but she was also an optimist, a quality that her overprotective parents and their money had allowed her to retain. Simeon, on the other hand, had had anything resembling optimism beaten from him before he’d even processed what being hopeful even was.

He’d known she’d be down for a bit and he’d bet a million dollars that she’d spent no small amount of time cleaning her house, her old go-to method of stress relief. But she’d come back, and by nightfall, he’d known she would have convinced herself that she’d figure something out.

Which was why he’d made sure her father got the phone call right around the time they’d be finishing their family dinner, and he’d been at her house, waiting for her to come back, knowing that she would.

He’d been correct, and as he’d stood in her small, tidy home, he’d seen when she’d made the decision, seen the moment when she’d committed, just as he’d planned.

But what he hadn’t expected, what he hadn’t planned for or anticipated, was his reaction to her response. As much as he hated her for what she’d done to him, he’d memorized her reactions and still knew her, so he recognized her desire.

He just hadn’t counted on his own.

Yeah, he’d known he was going to enjoy fucking her again, but to his mind, that would only have been a secondary benefit, the icing on the cake that was his justice. His body disagreed.

His cock had been solid steel since he’d entered her home, and he wanted to go back, bury it inside of her, and fuck her until neither of them could move.

He wanted to but didn’t. He was more disciplined now, wasn’t controlled by desire, or emotion. He’d come close to losing it, especially when he’d touched her body. He hadn’t planned to do that, but the temptation was too much too resist. And when she had reached for him and touched him, the feel of her fingers against his cheek was so like the dreams of her he liked to pretend didn’t exist that his resolve had been pushed even further.

It was only his control, the discipline and self-awareness that he had nurtured in the years after she had betrayed him that had rescued him. Over the time since he’d seen her last, he’d used it to build his fortune and power, and to ultimately put him in the position where he could pay her back, but she had tested him. Gathering the threads of that control had been the only thing that had allowed him to break away.

He would have her; there was no doubt, but it was going to happen his way, under his rules, and he wouldn’t let her or the intense desire for her that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing second change his plans.

Of course, his certainty did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that throbbed against his thigh. For a moment, Simeon considered taking care of it himself. He was close, close enough that if he closed his eyes and pretended his hand was Claire’s, he’d go off like a rocket in no time.

Tempting, and he’d already lifted his hand, was so close to the edge that it would be easy to get some relief. He dropped his hands, though.

Anything he did now would only be a temporary measure, one that would do nothing but remind him of how much he wanted Claire and make him that much more frustrated.

Fortunately for him and his cock, in two days’ time, she would be his.