The Bad Boy Billionaire: What a Girl Wants (10 page)

His gaze darkened when it settled on my bruises.

“Duke,” I whispered. “Make me forget everything.”

“As my girl wishes,” he murmured. “Tell me what you want.”

And then he gazed leisurely at the rest of me. I was achingly aware of his attentions focused on my breasts—my nipples hardened into stiff peaks from his attentions. Then his gaze traveled lower, to the curve of my hips and lower. A fire started in my belly. I was naked, but I wasn’t cold. Not when my lover looked at me like that.

“I want you,” I whispered.

His gaze smoldered. I felt it everywhere, from the curve of my calves, to the soft skin of my thighs, and higher and higher.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

His mouth crashed down on mine for the kind of kiss that made a girl weak in the knees and forgetful of everything. I fisted my hands around the jersey cotton of his T-shirt, pulling him close to me, feeling the fabric brush against my breasts. I might have moaned. The Facebook T-shirt he wore soon hit the floor and my palms skimmed across the muscles of his chest, going lower, until I hit the waistband of his jeans. I undid the button, the zipper, and pushed his jeans down his hips.

His erection was freed and I took the hot, hard length of it in my hand, stroking in a firm, steady grasp. His head rolled back, eyes closed, a murmur across his lips.

He wanted me.

But I was in control. That made me feel incredibly sexy and ready.

I strolled over to the bed, an inviting glance over my shoulder. Duke followed. We lay side by side on the bed, just kissing as if it were the end all, be all.

I ran my fingers through his hair.

He caressed my breasts and their sensitive peaks with his hands and mouth until I was gasping with almost intolerable amounts of pleasure. Almost.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered again.

“I want more. Lower.”

His hand slid lower, to tease me further. His hands, which I noted out of the corner of my eye, were bruised from the fight earlier today. Hands that had hurt Sam so badly earlier in defense of my honor were now stoking the fire burning inside of me, making me forget all other thoughts. I just wanted to feel . . .

. . . his fingers, expertly touching me in the most sensitive place with a gentle but insistent pressure that was driving me crazy.

. . . his lips against mine, his tongue tangled with mine.

. . . his body, all firm muscles and soft skin, pressed against mine.

I breathed in deeply, savoring his scent. I threaded my fingers through his already tousled hair wanting more of him.

“I want you,” I whispered. It was only then that he reached for a condom, put it on and pushed inside of me. I gasped and arched my back. With Duke inside me and his arms around me, I stopped thinking and started just feeling each and every strong thrust. There was the fullness of his cock inside of me, moving in a steady, relentless rhythm. And I couldn’t get a decent breath of air. My heart was pounding. The heat and tension within were building . . . pushing against the boundaries . . . my skin was hot and insanely sensitive. He reached down, touched me there, pressed a kiss on my mouth and I couldn’t take it anymore. I cried out. He came with me, thrusting hard as he shouted my name.

Afterwards, I lay in his embrace on a king-sized bed with luxuriously soft sheets in a five-star hotel room. So what if I had lost my cubic zirconia ring? I could buy another. So what if I had lost my pages? I could rewrite them. I was damn lucky after all, because I was safe and protected and warmed by the arms of a man who loved me.

The perfect moment was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Chapter Nine

I
PULLED ON
my robe and opened the door to our hotel suite. A familiar face grinned at me.

“You’re not room service,” I said.

“You ordered room service?” Roxanna echoed. “Fabulous. I’m starving. I walked from downtown.”

“I take it you got my note,” I said as she pushed past me into the hotel room.

“Yup. Wow, look at this place!” Roxanna said as she dropped her bag in the middle of the living room and peered around. I quickly shut the doors to the master bedroom where Duke was sleeping. “Duke may not spend his money on clothes but he’s not a cheap bastard when it comes to hotel rooms.”

“Priorities. He has them,” I said, with a satisfied smile.

“So how was your hurricane?” Roxanna asked. “Mine was fantastic.” She smiled in a way that suggested she spent the whole time drinking and having phenomenal sex with her mystery lover.

“It was fine,” I answered.

“It seems more than fine,” Roxanna said, eyeing me. “You have sex hair.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. But I felt the tousled and slightly knotted strands of my hair and understood what she was talking about.

I was saved from replying by Duke’s arrival. He’d taken a quick shower and put on clean clothes.

“Hey, Roxanna,” Duke said.

“Hello Mr. Austen. Hope you don’t mind my crashing your love nest.”

“Please, make yourself at home. I got a room for you,” he said, with a nod in the direction of the second bedroom.

“You’re too kind,” she said, slinking off to the spare bedroom, where she left her bags and changed into a robe. In the living room, Duke just gave me A Look.

“You were right to get a second bedroom,” I said.

“I know,” he said, grinning.

“Let’s talk about room service,” Roxanna said. Duke and I did not disagree. We all conferred over the menu and then called in our order of tuna and avocado tartar, mixed green salads, a hamburger for Duke and two orders of steak frites for Roxanna and I.

We chatted about our time during the hurricane—she had crashed with her boyfriend at his Soho apartment. She did not elaborate on how they kept themselves entertained, but I had an idea. Duke and I told her about our adventure—complete with a woeful lack of supplies, dancing without music, and lamenting the loss of electricity.

“Question,” Roxanna said, kind of changing the subject. “What was your ex-boyfriend doing on our front stoop with a bloody nose and black eye?”

“Is he still there?” Duke and I asked this question at the same time—his voice was angry, mine was weary.

Duke turned to me: “Are you sure you don’t want to call the cops?”

“I might. Though I think you doled out one hell of a punishment. Darling.”

“The cops?” Roxanna echoed. Then, with a firm command, she said, “Spill.”

“There was just . . .” I didn’t know the right words. “There was a thing. With Sam. The night of the storm.”

“A thing?” Roxanna asked flatly. She glanced from my grim expression to Duke’s and then back to me. Pursing her lips, she strolled into the kitchen—of course this massive suite had a complete kitchen—and found the stash of mini alcohol bottles so quickly one had to wonder if she had a finely honed radar for alcohol.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Do you know how expensive things from the mini bar are?”

“In two days’ time that guy will be a billionaire,” Roxanna said, pointing at Duke. “I think he can afford some miniature alcohol bottles from the mini bar.”

“I can,” Duke said. “And get me one.”

She chucked a small bottle of Jack Daniels his way. I sighed and gave in.

“Is there chardonnay?” I asked.

Wine and whiskey in hand, Duke and I explained what had happened with Sam. Roxanna’s eyes got wide with shock. Then they narrowed angrily. She might have paced around the room while I told her about the drinks, and what happened up against the brick wall after the drinks.

“That fucker,” she swore. I suspected there was more to her tirade, but it was thwarted by the arrival of room service. We all dug into what was our first proper hot meal in days. There wasn’t much talking until the plates were clean and Roxanna and I were devouring the last of the French fries.

“Do you ladies mind if I head out to the office? I have to get my new lawyer up to speed since the previous one made a mess of everything.”

“Go ahead,” I answered. “We’re fine here, thanks to you.”

He gave a goodbye kiss, grabbed his laptop bag and headed out.

“A thing,” Roxanna repeated.

“An assault-type thing. Whatever. It was horrible. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. So don’t talk about it,” Roxanna said. Because sometimes, things were just that simple with her.

“So I’m not going to the party. Obvs.”

“Yes, you are,” she said firmly.

“Are you crazy?” I asked, aghast.

“Are you a pansy?” she challenged.

“How can you call me that for simply wanting to avoid my crazy ex-boyfriend? God, it’s just basic safety. I shouldn’t be alone in his presence.”

“Point taken. But let me remind, there will be other people at this party. And Jane, let me remind you what you did to radiate awesomeness while attending this party. You faked an engagement. You fell in love. You busted your ass to write fucking novels so you could keep your word. You can’t let your douchey ex-boyfriend scare you off from enjoying your night of triumph.”

“But Duke can’t go and I don’t want to go alone,” I protested.

“Can’t or won’t?” Roxanna challenged, with a lift of her brow.

“I suppose it depends on when the power comes back downtown, if Wall Street opens and the place where they’re having the party . . .”

Roxanna cut me off.

“None of that matters. You want to go to this party, Jane.”

I did, even thought I knew it wouldn’t be a great party. Just a little thing in my hometown with all my friends who had married and had babies and lived the life I had imagined for myself. The food and the wine would be bad. But I would show everyone that I wasn’t the failure they thought I had become for a hot second there, when my boyfriend had dumped me on the same the day I got fired from my job.

Also, Sam would be there.

“It’s a stupid little party,” I said. “You said so yourself just two days ago.”

“Well now I think you should go, looking superhot,” Roxanna declared. God, I envied her confidence. “And you look that fucker in the eye and let him know that he doesn’t own you, he doesn’t hurt you, or fuck with you anymore.”

“Won’t that be rubbing everything in? He was pretty messed up about being homeless, jobless and single. Seeing me hot, successful, and in an amazing relationship might just be salt in his wound.”

“Don’t hide your light under a bushel,” Roxanna retorted, and I was momentarily rendered speechless. We exchanged shocked glances. She couldn’t believe what she’d said either.

“Did you just quote the Bible?” I gasped.

“I’ve been drinking,” she muttered.

“You have a point. Maybe. I’m also just scared to go alone while I’m having such shitty luck. First I lost my ring. Then my favorite sweater-set. And then pages of a new manuscript I wrote on Duke’s computer before the power went out. How can I go into such a fraught situation with such bad luck?”

“Don’t be afraid even when you’re afraid,” she said with a shrug. As if it were that simple. But what if it was?

“Since when did you get so philosophical?” I asked. “What are you drinking? What happened to my friend?”

“Being above 14th Street is warping my brain,” Roxanna said. Then with a mischievous grin that made me nervous, she added, “For what it’s worth, I think your luck is about to change. Now let’s go buy you a totally fierce dress. Barney’s is within walking distance.”

Chapter Ten

The night before the parties

T
HE POWER WAS
back on in Lower Manhattan. It was said that cheers erupted when the lights finally flashed on. I would have loved to hear it—but not enough to trade in my luxurious uptown digs. For a few days, Duke, Roxanna and I had commuted to our offices by foot. At night, we watched movies and got room service. Then Duke and I slipped off to our king-sized bed and made love. From his every little touch, to his generosity, the man made me feel like a princess.

That didn’t mean everything was perfect.

Because the power was back on downtown, it meant that Duke and the Project-TK team was still scheduled to ring the opening bell at the Stock Exchange tomorrow morning.

As planned, they would celebrate their $20 billion IPO with an early party that night. Much as I wanted to go, Roxanna was right. I needed to go to my little party with my head held high. Then I’d scamper right back to the city and no longer look back at my life in Milford.

Duke, however, had a different idea.

“I don’t think you should go alone,” he said after a room service dinner for just the two of us—Roxanna had gone off with her boyfriend.

“So go with me,” I replied. It was that simple.

“I can’t go with you,” he said, anguished. “I want to, but I can’t. I want you to come to my party with me.”

“
Won’t.
You won’t go.”

He was the boss. He was a flipping billionaire—or he would be by this time tomorrow. This was a man who won and lost fortunes. Crowds parted to make way for him. I didn’t believe for a second that he
couldn’t
do something he wanted to. But then again, he had gotten to this pinnacle of success because he put his company and his team before himself.

“People are counting on me, Jane. Not just all the people on my team, but hundreds and thousands of investors. Twenty billion bucks are on the line here. It’s a big fucking deal. I can’t just ditch it.”

I got that. Truly. And his party did sound more fun, but if this relationship was really going to make it, there were some things that needed to be said, like:

“Your stuff is always more important than mine,” I pointed out. “The stakes are always higher. There’s always more money involved. And it’s always about
your
dreams. Well, what about mine?”

“Is your dream really attending your small town high school reunion? And with your fucking douche of an ex-boyfriend there, too. What’s up with that, Jane?”

“I want to show him that he didn’t ruin me,” I said, head held high.

“Awww,” Duke replied sarcastically and my brows shot up, shocked. “Why didn’t you call the cops, Jane?”