The Billion Dollar Contract: The Executive Collection (29 page)

She didn’t know how far this was going to go. They were in a car, for goodness sakes. Out in the open, where anybody driving by slowly enough could see what they were doing. Out on a country highway anything like that was possible. But Ethan was adamant, holding Jasmine close to him as he kissed the top of her chest as it spilled from her sweetheart neckline. Although he was gentle on top, he was a demon down below, grinding his erection against the inside of her thigh as if he thought he was going to get beneath her lingerie like that.

Not so fast.
He may have been ready to go, but Jasmine wasn’t about to be caught mid-coitus by anyone passing by on the road. She broke free from Ethan’s impenetrable grasp and gingerly moved back to the passenger seat, where she stuck her knees in the soft leather and bent her head into his lap.

It was a strange thing, missing this. When Ethan first started asking her to pleasure him like this on a regular basis, Jasmine didn’t think it was possible to come to look forward to it as if it were a perfectly natural thing to do. Not that she didn’t enjoy it in any way. But before, she would have never said that pulling a man out of his trousers and teasing him with her tongue was something she delighted in.
Because it’s him.
He always made sure she knew how good he thought she was by digging his fingers into her head, her shoulders, her lower back. His groans made her happy – at first she assumed it was because it meant she was doing it “right” and he would be more apt to give her the money at the end of their contract. But now it was also a source of pride. Making Mr. Composed Rich Guy come undone in places like this was a power trip Jasmine rarely got to experience.

“Well this is an interesting turn of events.” The words came out of Ethan’s mouth in a forced whisper, a moan laced in its undercurrents. Jasmine wanted him to shut the hell up. She gave his base a firmer grasp and let her lips cover his head. Now he couldn’t talk except to tell her how good it felt.

I know.
He didn’t have to tell her. She could taste it on his tip, feel it beneath her hand. This man was happy to have
her
do this to him. Jasmine would never suggest that she was the best in the world, but the positive affirmation she got from him trying to control his breathing as his fingers clutched the zipper of her dress for dear life was the greatest thing she felt all day.

The original plan was to get him almost there and then pull back. Make him frustrated and then take her in the back seat. But then she was there, feeling him firm beneath her touch and tasting his arousal on her tongue.
I can wait.
Ethan wouldn’t get out of reciprocating that day. Jasmine would track him down and tie
him
up first!

It didn’t take much longer. Just when she predicted it was going to happen, Ethan bent over her head, his hand pushing against her back as his heavy breaths filled her ear – and his release covered her tongue.

Can’t let this nice outfit and car get messed up now, can we?
Jasmine was thorough in her attentions after his orgasm, sure to not leave a remnant on either himself, her lips, or anything he owned. Though she minded how sensitive he was now by being as gentle as possible, Ethan leaned back in his seat, head over the headrest as he gazed at the clear sky from behind closed eyes. He gradually lost rigidity in Jasmine’s mouth, and when she was sure it was done, she sat up and kissed him.

Most men would have jerked in disgust. Not Ethan. The only reason he didn’t pull her into a tight embrace and fill her throat with his tongue was because of the car and the fact the poor man was spent for now.

He’s not embarrassed or ashamed by anything.
He didn’t care that Jasmine probably tasted like him. Maybe it filled him with power. Because he of all people needed more of that.

His hands roamed down her frame and tugged at her skirt. Yet Jasmine ended their tryst with a kiss to his cheek and sat back in the passenger seat, more satisfied than Ethan ever was.

“No?”

Jasmine grinned. “Later. When you’re ready again.”

Ethan studied her for a second before picking up his sunglasses from the cup holder and then zipping himself up. “Well then.” He pulled his seatbelt back on. “Let’s get out of here.”

“To where?”

The Lamborghini purred when he started it up. “Home.”

21

Jasmine had no frame of reference when it came to The Hills. She only knew it was a small, mountainous area overlooking the city. On a clear night, she could see mansions and smaller estates from the top floors of the Jackson-Cole building. But that still only afforded her a view of twinkling lights popping in and out between trees.

She had heard tales of the place. Expansive, old mansions that were homes to some of America’s oldest families. Nobody went up there unless they had good reason to. Sure, some million-dollar homes roosted at the bottom of the hill, and self-important joggers could be spotted running around as if they owned the place, but for the most part, the properties farther up and in remained a mystery to those who could never afford to live there.

Ethan didn’t think twice about ascending the first hill with his sparkling white Lamborghini. Jasmine held her hair down against her chest as giant evergreens began to shade what seemed like the entire world.
He’s taking me to his house. His actual house.
Not a penthouse he crashed at and offered to let her live in for a while. His honest to God home.

The roads here were largely empty, which was good since they twisted and turned through the hills and Ethan did not want to slow down. But the few cars that passed them going in the other direction were just as luxurious as the Lamborghini. Audis, Corvettes, Jaguars… a splendor of colors Jasmine had never seen outside of a tradeshow before.

“Wow.” The houses became bigger the deeper they pierced the hills. Jasmine almost missed another limousine going by as she stared at a gorgeous cream-colored mansion sitting pretty atop one of the smaller hills. A riot of reds, yellows, and oranges bloomed along the fence line. The only thing spoiling the fantasy was the maintenance man on the riding lawnmower.

After all of this, Jasmine could only imagine what Ethan’s place was like. What kind of home did a billionaire bachelor live in?

In answer to her question, Ethan abruptly turned off the road and down a private driveway lined with trees. Sunshine splayed through the branches as it attempted to rain upon Jasmine’s skin, her arms up in the air and fingers brushing against the warm winds passing beneath Mother Nature. Pollen filled her nostrils but did not disturb her.

The driveway was a good two or three miles long, and dumped them out in a roundabout before the humble estate.

Really? This is it?
Oh, it was plenty big. It was a mansion, after all. But compared to the other ones Jasmine saw driving up there, this looked to be more of a vacation home than a permanent dwelling.

The Lamborghini parked out front. Jasmine pushed her hair out of her face and stared at the modest mansion. It was made out of brick, in the Georgian style, with some Greek revival in front. The second story had a wraparound balcony, while shy alcoves peeked out from the light red roof. It reminded Jasmine of pictures of southern plantations, but done in a novel way that gave it the charm of northern ingenuity.
It reminds me of him.
In the front were four imposing pillars, just like Ethan put up an imposing front at the office. But behind that ruthless veneer was something soft and handsome.

And something cheerful, as an older woman in a house cleaner’s uniform appeared in the center of the second story balcony. She waved at Ethan as he got out of his car. “Good morning, Mr. Cole! Wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

Ethan waved back at her as he rounded his car and opened Jasmine’s door. He took her by the hand and helped her out. By then, the woman had disappeared from the balcony, and a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair stepped out from the front doors.

“Harold!” Ethan motioned to Jasmine. “This is Jasmine. Jasmine, Harold.”

They nodded at each other. The woman in the uniform appeared behind the older man, smiling as if they didn’t get many guests.

As Jasmine gradually got to know them, she discovered that they were a married couple who lived at the mansion with Ethan. The only two he employed, aside from the driver who lived elsewhere and the occasional chef, maintenance people, and landscapers. It was Harold and his wife Belinda who watched over the property and lived in a small in-law suite detached from the mansion.

Jasmine had a million questions. She wanted to know how such an arrangement worked out. Did they live there in return for their services, or did they also get a wage and insurance plan through Ethan? Did they work every single day? From how Belinda prattled on about changing her dinner plans that night, Jasmine garnered that was a yes.

“You like stroganoff?” The stout woman patted Jasmine on the arm. “I’ll make it tonight. It’s one of Mr. Cole’s favorites, and we haven’t had it in a while.”

Harold, on the other hand, was a quiet man who was more focused on taking Ethan’s bags and making sure he was comfortable. He spared Jasmine one more glance, judging her.

She stood in the entryway of the house, frozen solid under the weight of this man’s thoughts of her.

“Will the young lady be staying through the weekend, sir?”

Ethan looked at Jasmine, left behind in the foyer. “Possibly. She’ll be staying for dinner, at least.”

“Should I prepare a room for her?”

That schoolboy smile was almost dashing on Ethan’s face. “That won’t be necessary.”

With that, the relationship was solidified in this house. Jasmine avoided eye contact with Harold and suddenly felt silly in her pretty dress and frizzy side ponytail.

“So what do you think?” Ethan returned to Jasmine after the help left the room. “It’s not gigantic, but I don’t want a lot of space. It’s wasteful.”

You’re not a man who wastes much at all.
He certainly did not waste time. “It’s very charming.”

“Charming.” Ethan studied her in the same way Harold had only minutes before. “Come,” he said, taking Jasmine by the hand again. “Let me show you the reason I bought this place.”

Their feet echoed on the marble flooring as they walked toward the back of the house. Large windows brought in copious amounts of sunlight that nearly blinded Jasmine. After lowering her hand from her face, she saw Ethan open a balcony doorway, and felt him tug on her arm until she followed him outside.

“It was mostly like this already when I moved in.” Ethan leaned against a railing overlooking the backyard. Jasmine sucked in her breath, not because she was frightened, but because she was overwhelmed by the sight before her.

The most beautiful garden she had ever seen spread for at least five acres before her, swirling in a rainbow-coded wheel. Brick paths weaved in and out, and birdbaths, feeders, benches, and even a pool accented the various spots around. But Jasmine only had eyes for the overload of colors as they came together in a rich and vibrant world that she never once thought would belong to Ethan Cole, Mr. Black and Navy Suits Only. Sometimes Gray.

“Are they Italian?”

Ethan’s body grew tight before he released a guffaw that spooked a bird out of a tree.

Belinda brought them iced tea before they went for a walk through the gardens. Ethan told his lover about the man who owned this place before him. “An artist. I had never heard of him until then. But he was old, starting to go, and his family wanted to sell the house and set him up in a luxury assisted living facility where he could die with some relative dignity. I insisted on keeping the same gardener to take care of everything. I also bought the man’s remaining paintings.”

“Where are they?” Jasmine hadn’t noticed any art hanging on the walls yet.

Ethan smiled. “In the penthouse. That place was dreary and needed some color.”

Jasmine stopped for a second before continuing the tour.
Those paintings in the penthouse?
The ones she admired every time she was there? She assumed Ethan had nothing to do with them. Yet he was the one who bought them and hung them up there!

“I never took you for a guy who likes color so much.” Jasmine stopped in front of the violets and sniffed one. Impressive that they were blooming so early in the year. Then again, it had been a mild winter.

Ethan didn’t answer. He was too busy checking something on his cell phone before pocketing it again.
Always working.