Claimed by Him (6 page)

Chloe woke up to Danny’s tickle torture and a loudly whistled birthday tune. Screeching when his fingers dove into the sensitive spot of her underarm, Chloe twisted in her bed sheets, wide awake now, and screamed, “No, Danny, no, stop!” until one leg kicked free and landed a good one right in his balls.

“Oooff!”

He collapsed on the side of the bed.

Chloe’s heart stopped. She groggily sat up and surveyed his motionless form in growing alarm. “Danny?”

He was hunched over, hardly even breathing, and then he growled, “I thought you’d want nephews in your future, goddamn it, Chloe!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, knee-walking over to hug him.

He attacked her with a laugh that indicated he had been acting this whole time and she squealed once more, flailing and kicking as he tortured her. “You cheater, you, stop it, you jerk, when I have a boyfriend I’m going to tell him to punch you!” she screamed, and then he pulled back with a frown, and Chloe frowned at herself, too. Because when she’d said “boyfriend” she’d pictured Graves’s dark, forbidden face in her mind.

And sadly Graves didn’t do girlfriends.

“Boyfriend?” Danny repeated the word in the disgusted tone he’d use to say “cow dung” as he straightened, already dressed for work in a sharp designer suit, his hair slicked back to reveal his sharp model features. “Is he the one who blows up your mouth like a goldfish? I don’t like that motherfucker. Give me his name again,” he demanded.

She smirked. “You won’t get it after this now.”

“Ah, little sis, your innocence astounds me. I’m going to get
anything
I ask for when you see your present,” he said cockily, brow raised as he handed her an all-access card for his Global Express jet worth a quarter of a million dollars.

An amount which would basically fly her…anywhere.

“Seriously, Danny?” The Lexington family owned a Gulfstream 650, powerful and luxurious and one of the best private jets money could buy, but Danny had his own jet, which was just as coveted but far, far edgier. He’d had it custom made with a huge flat-screen TV, a bar, WiFi, a bedroom in the back, a large sitting area up front, and speakers that would make you feel like Lady Gaga was right there flying with you while she sang her heart out. Danny’s jet was like a bar/disco on air and always ready to party.

“Yep, I’m dead serious, sis. Fly anywhere, invite your friends, have a blast, and put your hotel bills up on my black card.” He kissed her forehead, his green eyes—just like hers—twinkling in mischief. “Just be sure to call the pilots at least an hour in advance so they can have the flight plan ready.”

Chloe worried her lower lip. “Danny…I was going to spend the day here.”

He flashed his drop-dead grin that he was famous for and rumpled her hair. “Well, now you don’t
have
to stay here. Go to Vegas, Chlo. Hell, go to Monaco. Spend a week there.”

“But I’d rather stay here…today. If that’s okay.”

Thankfully, he didn’t read too much into her reluctance to go out and have a blast and enjoy her twenty-fifth birthday, for he shrugged easily. “Do it any day you’d like, then.” He nodded from the door, that heart-stopping, white smile still in place. “But have a happy birthday, all right?”

“I will,” Chloe promised as he left. She stole a look at the lone red rose in a simple crystal vase on her nightstand, and the butterflies burst to life in her stomach as she thought of Graves—and what they would be doing together today.

It was all she could think of, fantasize about, and dream of as she started her day, answering a thousand texts, Facebook messages, e-mails, and messages on her iPhone.

Then the presents came…

Her friends had donated a thousand dollars in her name to Global Giving. Her parents? A cool million and an unlimited shopping spree at Saks. Chloe spent a couple thousand on a pair of crystal Jimmy Choo stilettos, a kick-ass emerald-green Herve Leger bandage minidress, a sexy Agent Provocateur black lace bra and panties, and a Brazilian wax.

She had lunch with seven of her friends, including her best friend Whitney Donahue, and afterward told them she couldn’t hang out anymore. Whitney, who was no fool by anyone’s standard, pulled her aside at the valet. “Hey, Vicky Secret, why so mysterious today?” she laughingly said.

Of course Whitney knew how Chloe felt about Graves, just as Chloe knew that under the gold bangles Whitney always wore, she had a
man’s
name written on her wrists.

Chloe was desperate to shout to the top of her lungs and tell her dearest friend that the world was probably
going to stop turning
and she might
end up in a pile of ashes tomorrow
because she was
sleeping with Graves tonight!
But she was so afraid anything—anything—ruining her evening, she quickly brushed Whitney’s concern aside with an easy, “Just have a crazy day today.” And then she drove home to soak in the tub with lavender.

To anyone else who called, she said she was busy tonight. Busy prettying herself for Graves while lusting and waiting for him and caressing her skin with the bright red rose he’d given her two days before. Busy getting wet and excited just thinking about it. Thinking about him. Remembering his kiss, his eyes.

Busy getting ready, because tonight, she was giving her virginity to Graves Buchanan.

And then at around 3 p.m., she got the best present of them all.

A mysterious-looking present. When the maid let her know something had arrived for her, Chloe brought the package simply addressed to C
HLOE
to her room, still in her bathrobe. The package contained two gift-wrapped items: one small box and one flat envelope. The envelope contained a gemstone certificate, while the box contained a blue velvet ring box with a sparkling, dazzling white diamond nestled at the center. Also inside the box, a letter
I
on simple white paper had been tucked into the small dome at the top.

An earthquake that would rate about a ten on the Richter scale went all through Chloe, because suddenly she knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that it was from
him.

Every ten minutes for
hours
, an identical present arrived, and each contained a gemstone certificate, an identical diamond, but each with a different letter.

Chloe had never had such a splendid admirer and her womb clenched in frantic excitement every time she opened a box and stared at her new diamond. Two carats each, D color, internally flawless; Graves sent a total of twenty-five of them, each for a year of her life.

Chloe knew that they were the cleanest, whitest stones, and with a GIA certificate and ideal cut for brilliance, they were the best his money could buy her. She also knew that it was difficult to find
one
D, internally flawless diamond, but twenty-five? She could only imagine how much time he’d spent having all of these located and then delivered for
today
.

But the letters, she just couldn’t decipher them. One diamond had contained merely a period, but the rest just didn’t make sense to her.

IIMLLICYUWUPTIDNAKOIGPHT.

She scrutinized them for hours and tried to decipher what the letters meant, but she could not sort them out and ended up tucking each letter back into a diamond box. Then she waited and waited…fantasizing about him…becoming more and more aroused…

Being a virgin somehow made you feel like you were missing out on something, like you were being left out of a special club only people who had sex were allowed into. Like any girl, she’d fantasized about her first time for years, always wondering how having a man inside you would feel, if your orgasms were different than when you had one by yourself, and more importantly, who her first time would be with. But Chloe had always known, in her gut, that last part. Many guys had tried, but she just couldn’t get into any of them; she just didn’t want them the way she wanted Graves.

She was picky about her bed sheets, and her underwear, and her shoes. Always demanding the best. Her first time? You bet she wanted the best. And she wanted Graves Buchanan.

She waited and waited into the evening, when she became so anxious she began answering some e-mails just to keep from pulling out her hair. Then she got a call from Lisa, one of the caretakers at the orphan home.

“Chloe! You won’t believe what just happened, but please, please don’t tell anyone I called. It’s supposed to be under the radar, but there’s been an anonymous donation from a big corporation for fifty million dollars to the home. Fifty. Plus new computers from that top intelligence corporation that builds the robots like the one we saw. Oh, my God!”

She rambled on about how the check had mysteriously arrived, but Chloe was barely hearing anymore, she was trembling with excitement and a rush of desire so great, she hardly knew what to do with it.

Graves—because of course it was Graves—had made a whopping donation and Chloe thought that so damned hot she wanted to fuck him right then and there just to show him her appreciation.

She loved how he made his donations anonymously, unlike Luke, who loved to take the spotlight.

After that call, Chloe was so primed for Graves it wasn’t even funny anymore. The entire day knowing she would be with him had felt like foreplay, spent in a constant state of arousal, and now she stood before her full-length mirror, dressed and pretty and more than ready to see him. It was already after eleven, and her heart was close to breaking because he hadn’t come to see her. Her pussy clenched at the same time she gritted her teeth from the agony of it all. And when she could simply take no more, she cursed him under her breath, grabbed her car keys, stormed down to her car, and headed for his apartment.

When she rang for his elevator, he didn’t answer for some time. At last she heard a gruff, puzzled, “Chloe?”

“Oh, good, you remember me.”

There was a silence like he couldn’t understand why the hell she was here. Damn him. She rode the elevator and once upstairs, she charged down the hall to his bedroom.

She stopped at the threshold and tried to calm her breathing, but her emotions ate her up like piranhas. Through a haze of lust mingled with anger, she noticed a dozen roses lay atop his bed next to a sooty black jacket, and then she saw Graves—delicious, unattainable Graves—stroll out of his bathroom in dark black dress pants to match the jacket and in the process of buttoning up the last buttons of a crisp white shirt. He was so beautiful her heart ached and her overstimulated body screamed in fury and need.

He reached for his jacket and then paused when he spotted her at the door, his face going blank as he assessed her in her emerald-green Herve Leger mini bandage dress. He gaped at her, motionless as a marble slab. “My God, Chlo, I can’t even fucking breathe.”

Her cheeks flushed, and her entire body trembled with mixed emotions. “I thought we said my birthday.” She panted, finding it impossible to still her erratic pulse. “It’s almost twelve!”

He signaled to the clock that said 11:46 on his nightstand, brows furrowed in confusion. “I was about to go get you.” His voice, husky and sensual, sent a ripple of awareness through her, and it only annoyed her more.

“I waited all day, Graves,” she gritted out, but she could smell cologne in the air.

Through the crack of his bathroom door she could see the mirror was fogged from a recent shower, and the thought that Graves may have been making himself handsome for her, just like she had been beautifying herself for him, made her pussy clench.

Graves cocked his head, as though truly confused about why she was so angry, and his tone was so tender she wanted to cry. “I had to wait, too, Chlo.” His moves were painfully slow as he draped his jacket over the back of a nearby chair, his muscles rippling under his shirt so sexily she felt quakes in her tummy. “I thought you’d like to enjoy your family, your friends?”

“I wanted to be with
you
. I blew off all my plans because I didn’t know…didn’t…was waiting for you like some
nincompoop
.”

He picked up the roses from the bed and started for her.

Desire like she’d never known welled in her throat. She saw him and wanted all of him, all over her, right here, right now. Her heart raced, and her stomach hurt from so much hunger for him she thought she’d fold over.

His lips curled softly into an amused smile, and his eyes glowed as he approached. “The letters said midnight. Didn’t they?” He spoke softly, with quiet emphasis, but she was infuriated and horny out of her mind.

She spoke in a suffocated whisper. “I’m not good with codes, Graves, you could’ve just—”

“I WILL PICK YOU UP AT MIDNIGHT—that’s what it read. I sent the diamonds in order, Chlo.”

“You did?”

That threw her for a loop. She’d been so excited opening her diamonds, viewing them, and receiving the next, that the letters had gotten all mixed up.

“Oh,” she said, feeling inept.

He reached for her and lifted a hand to cup her face in his warm palm, his smile gone. Emotions swirled in the depths of his eyes like lightning, and the desire in them made her pussy get soaked. “Did you have a good birthday?” he asked thickly.

The raspy arousal in his voice and tender touch disintegrated all her frustration until she was left a mass of quaking, vibrant desire. She could barely even swallow. “I am now. Thank you for my gifts. And—” When he extended to her the lovely red roses, an emotion that felt a lot like love unfurled inside her as she clutched them with trembling hands to her chest. “Thank you for these.”

She knew they may only be having sex, but the fact that he was doing all these things for her touched her in ways she’d never imagined.

“You’re welcome.” He took the roses from her and almost as soon as he’d put them down, he went to his bureau and pulled out another several dozen. She swallowed when he grabbed each rose in his fist, pulled, then spread out all the silken red petals over the bed.

He was making…a bed of roses for her…?

Piercing lust assaulted all her senses. She bit her lower lip to keep from moaning in pain, primed and ready and shaking uncontrollably as she watched this exhilarating man spread out each and every rose petal over his bed for her.