I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (19 page)

“Always.”

Eyes shifted back to me, he confessed, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I’m doing it anyway because it feels
so fucking good
.”

On a throaty, non-humorous laugh, I threw up my hands. “That’s the whole point, Trev. Neither of us know what we’re doing. We’re both gonna end up ruined.”

Trevillo leaned forward, cupped my face and gave me a soft kiss. “If anyone ends up ruined, it’ll be me. Not you. Because you, you were chosen.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, our tongues met as he used one hand to undo my shorts button and zipper and slid his hand right inside. At the simple movement, I was instantly aroused and by the time his fingers passed over my folds, I was more than ready for him, hanging my head with a moan.

As he pushed two fingers inside me, he husked, “Touch me, Krissan.”

No hesitation, I undid the button of his cargo shorts and unzipped them while his fingers worked inside me. Then I stopped, breathing heavy. “I don’t think touching you right now is a good idea … ”

“No?”

Sounding lame, I reminded him, “You’re very, um … vocal.”

Trevillo’s fingers stopped working, and he leaned back just a bit to look at me, a smirk on his lips. “You should be proud of that.”

I raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because, babe … ” He resumed moving his fingers, painfully slowly, inside me. Then abruptly, he rammed them so hard in me, I cried out. I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth, eyes widened.

Impishly biting down on his lip, he brought his mouth to my ear, flicked the lobe with his tongue, and whispered, “I’m only vocal when I’m getting fucked really well. You, you fuck me
outstandingly well
. So when I’m with you, I’m not just ‘vocal’, babe. I’m loud as
fuck.
”

Knowing what he was about to do next, he covered my mouth with his free hand, then slipped a third finger inside me and began finger-fucking me hard, and fast, and faster, and harder.

No doubt about it, I was v-o-c-a-l.

By the time we decided to wrap up our day, it was dark out.

“Gonna make a quick stop at your house so you can pack an overnight bag,” a distracted Trevillo told me as he reversed out of the parking lot.

Having been in the sun and on the water all day, I was feeling a bit lagged. Sailing on the sea could be the most relaxing feeling on earth. But as soon as your feet touches dry land again, a sudden dreariness hits you, as if you’d been wrestling with a shark out there.

Tired. Weary. Sleepy.

“I’m not coming with you tonight,” I let him know, as I massaged the back of my neck.

Trevillo shot me a brief glance and his attention went back to spinning the car around to face the main road. “What?”

“Trev, I have work to do. My Saturdays are usually spent drafting up my schedule for the week to come, making phone calls, and sending emails to ensure things will run smoothly with no bumps in the road.” I pulled on the car seat lever until it was reclined all the way back and closed my eyes, feeling extremely tired. “As it is, my Saturday’s been spent with you. Thank you for inviting me, it was fun. But now I have work backed up on me.”

“You can do whatever you have to do at my place,” he suggested, sounding disappointed.

“We both know that’s a bad idea.”

There would with be a whole lot of sexing and a lot less working.

“But I wanna fuck,” he whined like a petulant child, just short of pouting and stomping his feet.

I had to laugh. “How romantic, Trev.”

He remained quiet and pensive as he drove, and I began dosing off, but not before his deep voice started to suggest, “What if you — ”

“I’m
not
moving in with you.”

Silence, then, “That’s not what I was going to ask you.”

Opening one eye, I peeked over at him. He was leaning in the driver’s seat and maneuvering the car with one hand while his free hand was propped up on the car window. I swallowed, wishing I
wasn’t
tired and
didn’t
have work to do, because the sight of him there sent shivers through me, even though I’d spent the entire day in his arms. Of course, I, too, wanted to screw him tonight. But I had to keep it in mind, although he introduced me as his girlfriend, he was still my boss who expected me to do a job and do it well.

Being ‘Trev’s’ didn’t give me an excuse to slack off. Also, if my signature was going to be on a high-end project like Skylark, then it was going to be darn well perfect. I needed to remain focused and not allow this driving need and insane craving I had for Trevillo Nelson to steer me off course.

“What were you going to ask me, then?”

The side-long glance he shot me didn’t conceal his irritation. I was getting under his skin. “Just fucking forget it.”

Biting my lip to hide a smile, I snapped my eye shut and whispered, “That’s
so
what you were going to ask.”

Instead of offering a refutation, he leaned forward and turned up the car stereo, allowing the seductive words of John Legend’s
Tonight
to flood the car.

Smile residing on my face, I fell instantly asleep.

“Babe, wake up.”

The light jerking of my shoulder dragged me from an ephemeral but fulfilling sleep. Trevillo was crouched at the opened passenger door, watching me. I realized we were outside my house.

Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I pulled on the lever of the car seat until it was upright again and reached for my purse from the dashboard, thinking out loud, “Huh.”

“What?” he asked.

“I fell asleep, and you
still
took me to my house instead of yours.”

“Because you asked me not to.” He watched me for a beat. “I’m not a complete asshole, you know.”

At his miffed tone, I swung my legs out of the car, turning to face him. “You’re not an asshole in any sense of the word, Trev. You’re … ” I trailed off on a sigh and moved to leave the car as he shifted to stand.

Trevillo interlaced his fingers with mine and tugged me up to him, using his other hand to shut the car door behind me. “I’m what?”

Chomping down on my lower lip, I looked up at him. His sharp handsomeness was shaded with the night’s darkness, making it difficult to read his eyes. “Unexpected.”

Remaining impassive, he said nothing to that. Then, faster than I could register, he leaned down and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek, got in his car, and sped off. No words. Leaving me there, confused.

What did I say wrong?

Maybe I should have said ‘variable’,
I thought as I journeyed up to the house. Because that’s how he was. One minute he was Mr. Intimidator, next he was The Smooth Operator, next he was The Funny Troublemaker, and then he was, well,
that —
that person who just left me out on the curb without a word.

Shrugging it off, I unlocked the front door and pushed it open to the pungent scent of raw sex slapping me in the face. Moans and grunts could be heard above the blaring of Lil Wayne’s
Pussy, Money, Weed
.

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out Jahleel was engaged in some sexual activity in his living room. What bothered me was he’d
never
done this before. He knew I used his front door to get upstairs instead of my own side door. So he always kept his sexual business in his guest bedroom.

However, it was his floor and he, therefore, deserved his privacy and the freedom to do whatever the hell he pleased. I guess it was time to start using my own entrance.

But even as I thought this, I kept walking instead of turning back. As I approached the living room to get to the stairs, I promised myself I wouldn’t look, I would just keep my head straight and run up the stairs.

Yet, once I entered the living room, I stopped and watched Jahleel who had a woman bent over his sofa arm, his jeans dropped to his ankles, his hips pumping as he rammed himself into the woman without pause. Head tossed back, eyes closed, teeth sinking down on his bottom lip, he had one hand gripping the woman’s waist while the other was curled around the back of her neck, keeping her face down onto a cushion of the sofa. He seemed as though he was concentrating hard to enjoy it.

I stood planted, unable to move from the sight before me. Suddenly, Jahleel’s eyes snapped open and met mine. But he didn’t stop and he didn’t look surprised to see me there. He just kept his gaze on mine as he slammed into the woman over and over again, a woman who was oblivious to my being there since her face was pressed down in the sofa.
Could she even breathe?

Allowing his lusty eyes to finally leave mine, he dragged them down my body, and for the first time that day, I wished I’d dressed more conservatively. Something changed in his eyes, and he picked up momentum and began screwing the woman faster, his breathing growing harsh. He let out a low, sexy, sexy moan, and, at that arousing sound, I turned and began power-walking to the stairs.

As I mounted the first step, I heard him hiss, “No, Krissy …
Fuck
!!”

I jerked around to the sight of him beautifully seized with his orgasm, his eyes slammed shut as his narrow hips flexed sexily, and I released a faint sigh at the erotic sight.

The woman fought to lift her head up, no doubt pissed as hell at being called another woman’s name. When Jahleel released his hold on her neck and she finally raised her head, I recognized the recipient as Marsha.

With a gasp, I turned and bolted up the stairs, straight to my bedroom and slammed the door with a bang. I’d just watched my ‘brother’ screw the daylights out of my best friend, and … hang on a minute …

I slid my fingers down into my shorts.

… Yep, I was wetter than water.

The soft knocking on my bedroom door invaded sleep’s darkness. I woke up to find I’d fallen asleep amid my workbook, order sheets, calculator, markers, and MacBook. Peeling off a piece of pink Post-It stuck to my cheek, I rolled out of bed and went to answer the door.

Jahleel was standing there with one hand pressed up against the doorjamb, his head bowed as though lost in thought. He was dressed in sharp gray slacks, a white button down shirt that hadn’t so much as a crease in it, and shiny shoes. Face clean-shaved, his thick, sandy-brown hair was brushed back from his face, giving him an innocent, ivy-league, frat-boy look.

There was only one reason on earth why Jahleel would dress like that. “Mom and Dad are here?”

Raising his head, he twisted his lips ruefully and nodded.

Sighing, I turned back to the room. “Guess I better go find my most conservative dress.”

Jahleel grabbed my wrist, effectively stopping me from moving. When I looked back at him, he apologized in a quiet voice, “Sorry you had to see that last night.”

Arching a brow at him, I asked, “Are you?”

It wasn’t Jahleel’s style to do things like that out in the open where he knew I would run in to him. Even though the entire top floor was mine, and the entire bottom floor was his, we considered the house as one and invaded each other’s space anyway. Therefore, it was conclusive to me he did what he did last night on purpose. He
wanted
me to walk in on him. He was pissed at me for some reason — more than likely Trevillo — and that was his way of telling me off.

With all the years I’d spent with the guy, I could tell anyone who asked: Jahleel Kingston was the world’s greatest asshole.

One I loved with all my heart.

His lips tipped up in a half-smile as he confessed, “No.”

“Then don’t apologize for something you’re not sorry for,” I said, pulling my hand from his grasp and wandering back into the room. “In fact, you don’t need to apologize for anything. You should have your privacy. I’ll just start using my own entrance to avoid running into anymore of your … scenes.”

“Don’t do that.”

Turning at the distance of his voice, I was shocked to see he hadn’t followed me into my room. He was still standing outside the door with one hand in his pocket and the other against the doorjamb as if there was some invisible bar there holding him off. Some invisible red line he shouldn’t cross. And I deemed that beyond odd.

Jahleel never stands
outside
my door. He would normally barge in behind me, toss himself on the bed, and do whatever the hell he pleased, because, as aforementioned, we invaded each other’s space without apology.