MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (16 page)

She got into bed and pulled out her vibrator. Setting it to the lowest setting, she imagined Sterling coming through her door. In her fantasy, he told her he loved her, he wanted her, he needed her. Cherise drifted between sleep and awake, using her memories to build a fantasy where Sterling wrapped her in his strong arms and carried her to her bed. He pulled off his bright purple tie, vivid against a black shirt, and used it to cover her eyes.

He pulled back one arm, then another, and tied them to the bedposts with a silky rope. Then he took her right ankle, then her left, and spread her before him. Bound her. All was stillness, and Cherise started to wonder if he had left. The room was static, save for a warm sea-scented breeze blowing in from an open window.

Something touched the curve of her neck by her ear, and it took her a beat to identify it as a feather, gently caressing and tickling. Sterling dragged it across her collarbone, between her breasts, then down across her flat stomach. He pulled it away before reaching the mound of her pubis.

He repeated the process on the other side of her neck, tickling down to her breasts and playing the feather across her nipples. Despite the warm temperatures, they tightened to erection. He teased her hips, running it over her hipbones, then withdrew.

He made her wait. She thought about calling out, asking him if he were still there, but she trusted he was. When he returned, he came with ice. It felt hot on her skin at first, almost burning, before she realized it was cold and sucked in her breath, trying to pull away. The silken ropes held her tight. Run over her nipples, the slippery ice almost hurt. Sterling’s warm mouth consuming her breast was heaven.

She breathed heavily now, wanting him inside her. She wanted him to stop teasing but also to tease her forever. Such sweet anticipation.

The ice cube moved down her stomach, leaving its sensual, frigid trail behind it. He ran it through the heat between her legs, and she cried out. He let it play over her taut clit, hot and cold simultaneously. He slid it inside her, an amazing, freezing sensation. Cherise gasped and bucked her hips. He teased her with his fingers and the ice, running it from clit to ass, working her into a captive frenzy.

His cock was in her mouth, pushing in deep like she liked. She worked her tongue around his velvety head, licking, kissing and sucking until he came for her, grunting and moaning, filling her mouth with his hot seed.

He withdrew, and again, the bed was still. The next sensation was his hot breath on her pussy. Teasing. She tried to reach for him with her hips, but he put two strong hands on her and held her down.

Finally, he appeased her with his mouth, fucking her with his tongue. Her orgasm had been building from the beginning, and it didn’t take much of his kissing her most sensitive place for her to explode inside, fireworks jangling every nerve in her body.

Once again, he withdrew, leaving her naked and shivering, feeling the aftershocks of his love.

He unbound her ankles, then reached up and undid her wrists. He climbed on top of her, kissing her fiercely, and she wrapped her arms around his broad back. He plunged his hardness into her sopping cleft and pumped his hips into her. She clasped onto him and met him, surging against him. They clung to each other like life rafts, and Cherise reveled in the feeling of his skin against hers.

Her vibrator, buried deep inside her, coaxed her to a second orgasm, and in the dim light of the bedroom she opened her eyes, depressed that nothing she’d fantasized was real.

He’d said he was going to leave Jenna, though. She remembered it clearly. And if he was going to leave Jenna, did that mean Cherise had a shot? Part of her felt foolish to even think like this, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to try. She’d sort of asked, sort of beaten around the bush before, but she needed to really put herself out there. She needed to make Sterling Waters an offer he couldn’t refuse, and she had a plan.

STERLING

After almost forty-eight hours of travel, Sterling’s head pounded as he left the airport. He still hadn’t slept. Air travel, especially commercial, always dehydrated him. He’d thought about chartering a plane to get home, but he flew the same way he’d gone to Tanzania—economy class on Delta.

He’d texted Jenna from JFK airport, a quick note saying he was home and heading straight for the hospital. He kept glancing at his phone, but she didn’t text him back.

He also sent a note to Cherise, saying the same thing. Silence from her as well.

If they were both mad at him, if neither of them wanted anything to do with him, would it make sense to leave New York and start fresh somewhere else? The idea tantalized and intrigued him.

But he wanted Cherise. The idea of trying to make something work with her—of honestly trying—scared the shit out of him. He was good at making money. That wasn’t even right. He was good at keeping money. His father had done the hard work; Sterling just had to keep the boat afloat. Sure, profits were up, but…

Sterling, staring out the window of the taxi as the sun rose over Manhattan, realized he thought about profits and losses to keep himself from worrying about Ben.

A stroke. Jesus.

The pink light of dawn lit the spaces in the shadows between the tall buildings, and the cab crept forward in rush hour traffic. Shouldn’t there be a special lane for people who were headed to the hospital? It had seemed gratuitous to take a helicopter from the airport, but now he regretted not doing it. He could have at least had one of his drivers come for him in a limo.

He pulled back the partition so he could talk to his driver. “Hey.”

The driver cast a suspicious glance up into the rearview mirror. “Yeah?”

“You married?”

Now the eyes narrowed. “Yeah. To a woman.”

Sterling thought about asking the guy about love, but the man was giving him a nasty look. In Sterling’s exhausted imagination, a scene played out where the cabby gave him powerful advice about how to overcome the fear of caring about—and losing—Cherise. He let the topic drop.

“Damn. I was going to see if you wanted a drink sometime,” Sterling said.

The guy directed his eyes onto the road and didn’t say anything else. Sterling paid him for the ride and left a shitty tip. It was 2016. Guy shouldn’t be homophobic.

Sterling stood in front of New York City Hospital, studying the vast granite façade. At least Ben was home when it happened and hadn’t been on one of his more remote properties. He hadn’t been going to some of the really out-there ones for a while, Sterling reflected. How long had it been since they had gone to Alaska?

He headed in and asked at the front desk which room Benjamin Bachmann was in.

The nurse gave him a saccharine smile. “I’m sorry, that’s a private room.”

“Does he have a list of friends and family?”

“He does.”

“I’m on that list.”

She didn’t look like she believed him. Sterling chose to believe people were regularly dicks to her and forced her to act this way, as opposed to her just being an awful person. “Your name?”

“Sterling Waters?”

“You’re not Sterling Waters. You pulled up here in a taxi cab.” She looked him up and down. “And what are you wearing?”

Hiking boots, jeans, a Green Day t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie that really wasn’t cutting it in New York March weather. He carried a beat-up old backpack over one shoulder. Ben would recognize it. It had been his when he was younger and travelled the world.

“I promise you, I’m him.”

“Show me the squirrel tattoo.”

“How about I show you some ID.” The girl frowned as he passed over his passport, thick with extra pages.

“He’s on the fourteenth floor. Room 1427.”

Sterling thanked her and headed to the elevator. He debated coffee but was still on the whole idea of punishment and decided he’d go it without. Bleary eyed and exhausted, he rode up to infinity.

This floor was reserved for celebrities and the wealthy. Stepping into the atrium felt like walking into a cushy hotel rather than a hospital floor. There was a waterfall, a grand piano, and a huge image of an orchid, probably meant to be soothing. The nurse’s station looked more like the front desk.

“Sir, are you lost?” This nurse sounded a little more pleasant. He came around the desk, presumably to block Sterling’s passage into the realm of the moneyed and famous.

“I’m Sterling Waters for Ben Bachmann.” The nurse inspected him a little more closely. “I have ID.”

“No, you’re him. I recognize you.”

Sterling didn’t argue and headed down the hall for 1427. As he walked, the realization smacked him hard that he hadn’t thought about Ambrosia for almost an hour. The hurt in his chest ripped open again.

Each of the rooms had a private seating area out front with sofas, a refrigerator, microwave, and snacks. All the comforts of home. Jenna sat curled on the couch in expensive yoga pants and a long sweater. She glared at him from under blonde bangs.

“Where have you been? Why are you dressed like that? Sterling, you stink.”

“I’ve got to see Ben.”

“He’s unconscious. It’s not going to matter. I’m here, and I’m awake.”

Sterling laughed. Awake wasn’t the word he’d use for her. She wasn’t awake at all if she couldn’t see why he needed to be in with Ben. He wondered if she actually loved her late husband, or if she was in love with the idea of loving a dead man.

“We’ll talk in a bit. I have to see him.”

“Maybe I won’t be here when you come back.”

Rage kindled inside him. He’d spent years and years curbing his anger management issues, but every now and then, the sleeping bear threatened to wake up.

“You’re really going to pull that shit here? Really?”

“Don’t swear at me!”

“I get it. I freaked you out—I vanished, you’re feeling really insecure and lost right now and need to be comforted. The man who raised me is dying in the next room. You can cool your shit another forty-five minutes while I go and talk to him. Understand?”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he turned his back on her and went to the closed door. Ben’s room. He squished his eyes shut, hoping this would all turn out to be a dream. He would wake up with Cherise in bed next to him and Ambrosia curled at their feet.

He didn’t knock. Instead, he eased the door open. Inside, he was reminded he was back inside a hospital. Machines whirred and hummed, and their many lights provided the only illumination. Sterling closed the door behind him, letting it softly click shut before he looked at the figure on the bed.

The stroke had reduced Ben, made him seem tiny lying in the hospital bed. This wasn’t the man who taught him how to rock climb, to mountain bike, to track a bear through the Alaskan wilderness, to snap the best photograph. He remembered when his parents were alive, going with Ben to pick out a German shepherd puppy.

Sterling knew immediately which one he wanted, the biggest male who kept jumping at him and biting his hands with needle-sharp, puppy teeth. Ben picked the puppy up and flipped him on his back. The dog fought and fought, never giving up.

“This dog,” Ben told him, “is going to be a pain in the ass. Try her.” He pointed to a more classically colored female, off by herself, chasing a blowing leaf. This dog, Ben showed him, flopped when he rolled her on his back, a docile, sweet dog. She still played, still nuzzled her cold nose into their hands, but she didn’t bite.

“This is my dog,” Ben said.

“No way! The black one.”

“When you’re old enough, you can pick which ever dog you want. This dog is mine. I’m going with the little lady.”

Sterling vowed then he’d always take the roughest puppy, the wildest one. But he’d watched Ben work with Sapphire, then with Annabelle, then Lydia, and by the time he finally did get to pick his first dog, he did the same tests Ben did. Flipping them on their back and seeing how much they fought. He set the crazy ones back, aware that ten-year-old Sterling would have been furious.

“I’m so sorry.” Sterling dropped into the chair by the head of Ben’s bed. “I should have been here. I got so fixated on merging the companies.” Jesus, he was crying again. “I screwed up. She’s not the right girl. I don’t even know if there is a right girl, but I think there might be. I want to be with Cherise, but I can’t bear to think of anything happening to her. Can’t bear the idea of her getting hurt or leaving me. If I have her, it’s got to be more than the twelve years I get with a dog.”

Ben didn’t respond. Sterling took his hand and sat with him, uncomfortably contorted in the chair, until he dozed off.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

Sterling snapped awake, taking in the apologetic nurse, the symphony of beeping, and rhythmic thumping of the ventilator.

“I dozed off. I’m sorry. Do you need to get in here?”

“I can check him from this side.”

The nurse gave Sterling the scoop. They wouldn’t know more about Ben’s condition until he woke up. If he woke up. There could be brain damage or he could have weathered the storm like a trooper.

If anyone could do it, Ben could.

“We probably have another day or so in which he could come out of it. After that, staying in this vegetative state, we’re probably looking at a more permanent problem.”