Billionaire on the Loose (12 page)

“Nope. I'm willing to take suggestions, though.”

“Well, do you want to cast spells? Heal? Smash things?”

“Let's go with smashing.”

She pointed at the icon of a sword in the corner of the screen. “Try the Warlord class, then? Later on you can change to either Barbarian or Zen Master if you want, but you have to start out as Warlord.”

He clicked awkwardly and then the screen moved to character appearance. And frowned. “All these guys look like total knobs. Do I have to be one of these?”

She chuckled. “You can always be a girl.”

“What?”

“I'm serious. Most of the girls that run around in-game are played by men. It's because the female characters are sexier.” She pointed at the pink box at the top. “Click on that.”

He did, and his eyes widened as a buxom, bikini-chain-mail-clad woman appeared on the screen, breasts heaving. “Oh, yeah. That's much better.”

Taylor snorted. “Thought so.”

Loch looked over at her and grinned again. “Are you going to be jealous if I'm the sexiest wench in the realm?”

“Only if there's a beauty pageant and you win.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Maybe I'll sleep with the judges to ensure my success.”

“Okay, now you're getting a little too into this,” she said, but she was laughing. She reached over him again, and her breast brushed his arm. “Click here to pick a name.”

Loch did, and she was glad he hadn't noticed that she'd boob-grazed him, or that her nipples were now hard under the borrowed T-shirt she was wearing. She shifted, tucking her legs under her and mindful of her bad ankle.

She was also surprised when he settled on the name
Brunhilde
. “Brunhilde? That's . . . random.”

“Sure. Don't you think she looks like a Valkyrie? A well-endowed, sweaty Valkyrie that can't catch her breath from the exertion of wearing a chain-mail bikini and nothing else?”

Taylor's laughter bubbled up in her again. “She is panting rather hard.” She was used to the game's decidedly male gaze, but seeing it through his eyes made her realize again just how ridiculous it was.

He nodded, eyes bright with amusement as he clicked a button and spun the character around for a full view. “Or maybe her chest is heaving because she's so distraught that someone stole her pants and left her with nothing but metal knickers.”

Taylor's giggles filled the room and she mock-swatted his arm. “You're terrible!”

“I'm not the one playing a game where everyone wears chain-mail undies. Do the men do the same? That might explain why they stand so very funny.”

She fell against his shoulder, howling with laughter. His chuckles joined hers, and then his arm went casually around her shoulders and he pulled her against him in a hug, his hand sliding over her back.

And just like that, everything changed again.

Taylor sucked in a breath and gazed up at him, at his face so close to her own. He was smiling, his eyes bright, and he really was the handsomest man she'd ever seen in her life. He was warm and so physical and right here and she was an idiot for not crawling all over him, wasn't she?

Their eyes met and held.

“Hi,” he breathed softly.

“Hi again.” Her hand smoothed down his arm, because she couldn't resist touching him. Had she thought he was as handsome as Thor? He put the man to shame with his strong jaw, warm eyes, and sculpted cheekbones. And his lips. Oh, those lips. “Would I be a bad roommate if I crawled into your lap and started kissing you?”

“Not in the slightest.” His voice had gone soft.

“Oh, good.” She took the laptop out of his hands and placed it on the nearby ottoman. “Because I'm totally going to.”

Once his laptop was carefully put aside, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He tugged her into his lap, seating her between his thighs. She could feel a hard bulge against one leg and was glad she wasn't the only one aroused at the moment. Her own blood was pounding in her veins and she felt her pulse throbbing between her thighs. Yeah,
aroused
was a bit of an understatement.

Her fingers moved to his hair, and she rubbed a lock against her skin. It seemed unfair that a man would have such thick, soft hair full of loose waves. Hers was ridiculous and had a mind of its own, which was why she was such a fan of hats. But she could play with his to her heart's content. Normally she didn't like longer hair on a guy, but his shoulder-brushing golden-brown waves made him look casual and approachable, and it framed his big body well.

“You just going to play with my hair or are we going to kiss?” His voice was husky, but amused.

“Shh. I'm appreciating all of you.”

“Ah, then be my guest.”

She tangled both hands into his hair, then pulled him down for a kiss.

In the last few days, she'd forgotten how amazing it was to kiss Loch. Kissing him wasn't like kissing the guys she'd dated in the past. He didn't try to jockey for control, he didn't tongue-thrust until her tonsils were crying for mercy. He let her take the lead, his mouth firm under her own, but just yielding enough that she wanted to lick every inch of him. When she slicked her tongue against his, a little sigh of pleasure escaped her. He tasted so good.

This was how kisses should be, she decided. One party leading and the other party being a delicious, delicious recipient. She kissed his lips with soft, quick little presses of her mouth to his, delighting when she felt him groan in response. Her body was pulsing with need, and she put even more enthusiasm into the kiss, showing him with tongue and taste just how much she liked him.

Her breasts pressed up against his chest and she shifted back and forth, just a little, grazing her nipples against him.

“Little tease,” he breathed against her mouth.

She liked teasing him. She liked touching him. Actually, she pretty much liked everything about him. She tried to show him just how much with her hungry mouth and her hands. They ripped at his shirt, smoothing over his muscles, and then she dragged her nails down his chest.

“You've been driving me crazy all week,” he murmured between kisses. “Having you here and not being able to touch you? Thinking about that night we had together? It's been pure torture.”

And his hand slipped to the waistband of her pajama pants.

Taylor froze.

The blood was roaring in her veins and she wanted nothing more than to conquer him like Everest, but . . . her period. Shit. She wasn't one of those girls who was into period sex. She pulled back from his embrace and gave him an awkward pat on the cheek. “Raid's about to start. I'd better log on.”

The look he gave her was dazed. “What?”

“I need to play my game.” It sounded idiotic, even to her own ears, but it was an excuse and she needed one badly. Her entire body was crying out for more kisses, more caressing, but she pulled herself off his lap, straightened her clothing, and somehow managed to not cry over how unfair her body's timing was.

“Game. Right.” He exhaled deeply and rubbed a hand over his face. “Guess it's time to give Brunhilde a test run.”

And she hated that she chirped a vague affirmation.

Only a few more days, Taylor.

***

Clearly he was doing something wrong.

The thought obsessed Loch as he did his laps through the park's many paths. There was something about Taylor that he wasn't able to figure out. She'd been open and generous with herself when they'd first gotten together, and then pushed him away for the next week. Now, he'd had her in his hotel room for the last four days and it had been a mix of pleasure and torture. He liked having her around, because she was always amusing, but it was agony to see her wander through the hotel room with tousled bed-hair, her eyes sleepy, her breasts swaying under the fabric of her clothing. He'd even seen her cross the room in her T-shirt and panties once when she'd thought he wasn't looking.

He'd jerked off to that mental image in the bathroom, and part of him had desperately hoped she'd open the door and join in. Didn't happen, though.

Nothing
was happening, and that was the frustrating part.

He'd thrown down signals right and left. He'd flirted outrageously with her, and used every opportunity to touch her without being a creep about it. All of it went unnoticed. She either brushed off his flirtations or had her nose buried in her computer.

For a man who was supposed to be wooing a woman into marrying him, he could barely get her to kiss him. And when she finally picked up on the signals he'd been throwing down, she jumped out of his lap and told him she had to play her game.

Either he'd lost his touch with women, or something else was going on.

Maybe it was that Sigmund who was always texting her. She spent a lot of time gaming with him. She'd assured Loch they were just friends and she wasn't interested, and he'd believed her . . . but now he was starting to wonder. She always did have a bit of a hunted look on her face when one of the texts showed up.

But Taylor didn't seem like the type to carry on with him while she had a boyfriend. And though she'd been odd since that first night together, she
had
made the first move. He wasn't imagining that.

He finished his run, bought a bottle of water, and then started to head back to the hotel. Out of habit, he looked for the homeless man who had been on the same corner for the last four days. Just like before, he was there. And just like every other day, he paused and opened his wallet to give the man some money.

“Morning,” the man said, voice gruff and so low that Loch wasn't sure he'd heard it at first.

He paused, absurdly pleased that the man had spoken to him. “Want lunch?”

The man grunted. “I'll take it if you have it.”

“I mean, do you want to go to lunch with me? I could use a bite and some company.”

The man squinted up at Loch. “Where you think you're gonna go that they let someone like me in?”

“It's a free country, isn't it? We can go wherever.” Loch shrugged. “You pick the place. Besides, I'm not exactly fresh and pleasant myself.” He deliberately wiped his sweaty face on his even-sweatier shirt.

The man stared at Loch for a moment longer, then got up. “Diner down the street. Follow me.”

“Of course.”

They walked down the busy street together in silence. The diner in question was rather rundown, with a tattered awning and even more questionable insides, but the man at the counter waved at Loch's new friend and it was clear that this was familiar territory. All right, then. They sat at the counter together and Loch gazed at a grease-smeared menu. “What's good here?”

“It's all shitty, but it's cheap.”

The man ordered a burger and fries, and Loch ordered the same. He sipped the water placed in front of him and then looked over. “I'm Loch, by the way.”

“Like Loch Ness?” The man smirked. “Can I call you Nessie?”

“Rather you didn't.”

The man grunted. “Rex.”

“Like the tyrannosaur? Shall I call you Dino, then?”

The man wagged a finger at him. “Don't be smart.”

“Trust me, it's not my strong suit.” A cup of coffee was placed in front of Loch and the waitress quickly wandered away again. He sipped it, then made a face. It tasted like dirt. “That's awful.”

“Told you,” said Rex, but drank his coffee anyhow.

“So, are you a native of New York?”

“Nope. Clear you aren't, either.” He grabbed a few packets of ketchup off the counter and slid them into a pocket. “So you wanna tell me why you're buying a guy like me lunch?”

Loch shrugged. “I'm visiting the area and don't have many friends around. Wanted some company, that's all. Figured you might have a good story.”

“I've got the same story as every other bum out on the street.” He took another long drink of coffee and then raised his mug into the air for the waitress. “Had some hard times, and then had some more hard times on top of that. Now I'm here.”

“What did you do for a living? Before the hard times?”

Rex scratched at his scraggly beard. “Been a lot of things. Security guard, mall cop, door-to-door salesman, soldier . . .”

“Soldier? Were you in a war?” The two plates of burgers were set down in front of them and Loch obediently took a bite because Rex did.

Between quick mouthfuls of food, Rex nodded. “Iraq. Two tours. Fucked me up in the head but good. Had trouble keeping a job down after that.”

“Because of post-traumatic stress?”

“No, because I missed Iraq so much.” Rex scowled at him. “What do you think?”

“Sorry. Stupid question.” He felt like an ass. Of course it was something along those lines. Bellissime had a very small militia that they never sent out to war, but he'd visited foreign hospitals as a visiting dignitary and there had always been more soldiers there than made him comfortable. Living in Bellissime had meant living in a protected bubble, and he was just now starting to realize how lucky he was. He took another bite of the terrible burger, thoughtful.

“So what is it you do, then?”

Loch made a rueful face. “It's going to sound ridiculous, but I'm a baron.”

“A baron?” Rex's thick brows drew down. “Like from England?”

“Actually I'm from Bellissime. It's close to Monaco. Very small, tucked into the Alps.”

“So what is it that barons do?”

That was a good question. “Photo opportunities, visiting foreign dignitaries, things like that. Back home I played a lot of polo and rugby.”

He grunted and mopped his plate with a French fry. “And here?”

“Here? Not a lot.” Loch set his burger down. “I go running, and I spend time with my . . . girlfriend.” The word was strange on his tongue, but he could grow to like it. “Other than that, not much.”