The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4 (11 page)

But then the elevator dinged and Asher got out, all sexy grin and tanned skin, and she felt flustered all over again. He was wearing the same shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled at the elbows and collar open, but gone were the tie and the jacket. And even though she now hated the man, she couldn’t deny that he was utterly delicious for her eyes. His casual saunter toward her and the way his expression looked like a cross between predatory and seductive? Her nipples were getting hard just from him looking at her.

Greer clutched the folder tighter and reminded herself that he was nothing but packaging. She’d
unwrapped
the present, so to speak, and had been less than impressed. That calmed her hormones down. She stuck her hand out for him to shake. “Mr. Sutton?”

“Stop it, Greer,” he said playfully, and ignored her hand. He moved to her side and put an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer to him. “We both know each other a lot better than that.”

“Yes, but tonight is about business, remember? I just want to make sure the correct lines are drawn.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of the lines you’ve drawn.”

Now what did that mean? Greer frowned to herself as he steered her toward the elevator. Luckily, it was empty, as she didn’t think she’d be able to stand making small talk with another person as Asher led her up to his room for seduction lessons.

They got off the elevator on one of the top floors and Asher kept his hand on the small of her back as he led her to his room. She hadn’t been to this hotel before, and pretended great interest in the marble flooring and the black-and-white decor in the kitchen area. Anything to avoid the bedroom.

“Thanks for coming,” Asher said, his arm sliding away from her back. He took her purse from her shoulder and set it down on the counter.

“Why are you thanking me? You blackmailed me to be here.”

“I don’t think of it as blackmail—just . . . persuasion.” Asher gave her a winning look. “You could have turned me down.”

“And made my life more of a hell? No thank you.”

His easy smile faded. “Is your life hell, then?”

For some reason, she felt as if . . . he was worried about her. That was silly, wasn’t it? “This month it is,” she said tartly. Then she thrust the folder at him. “Here. I printed these out for you.”

“What are they?” He opened the folder and started to flip through the pages.

“Instructions on how to kiss properly. Apparently you can find anything on the Internet.” She shook her head. “Honestly, Asher, I’m not sure how you managed to keep Donna for so long without knowing any of the basics.”

His lips twitched. “Indeed.”

Was he laughing at her? “You have to take this seriously, Asher.”

“I’m very serious.” He tapped the printouts. “This was very thoughtful of you.”

“I like to be prepared.” She crossed her arms over her chest and rocked in her shoes. “So . . . do you want to go ahead and get this over with?”

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

She was too nervous to eat anything, and shook her head. “Some other time. Where should we do this? The bedroom?”

His brows went up. “We can go to the bedroom if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

“I— What? No! Where did you want to do it?”

He shrugged and turned around, gazing about the expansive hotel room. “We can move to the sofa, if you like.”

“The sofa is wonderful. Thank you.” She charged ahead and moved toward it. It was, like the rest of the decor, black, and she grabbed one of the throw pillows on it and hugged it to her chest as she settled in on one end of the couch. For a guy that needed lessons, he sure was making her feel like . . . prey. “Bring the printouts and let’s go over them together. We need to get this right.”

“I’m sure that, just like anything else, a lot of it is practice.” He tucked the folder under his arm and moved toward her. Yeah, she definitely felt like a gazelle stalked by a lion. “Lucky for us, we have an entire month to hone my skills.”

Lucky
wasn’t the word she wanted to use for it. She gave him a tight smile and pushed her glasses farther up on her nose.

He sat down on the couch next to her, their thighs touching. Goodness, that already felt rather intimate. At least he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was reading the first page of the printouts she gave him. She leaned forward to see what he was reading, and the picture on the page was of two people, their tongues barely caressing as their lips parted. For some reason, that picture felt . . . incredibly intimate and embarrassing. She tucked her hands tight around the pillow and tried not to squirm at the rush of heat moving through her.
This isn’t going to be fun, hormones. Remember how bad he was? Calm down.

Thing was, pregnancy hormones sort of escalated everything . . . even the need for sex. Which was doubly awkward considering she’d never
wanted
sex before, and now she really, really felt cravings at the most awkward times.

Like right now.

This was the equivalent of wanting to eat something you knew tasted bad. She knew Asher was terrible at sex, but her body was still responding to his proximity. Her nipples pressed against her cardigan, and she was grateful that she was hugging the pillow, because they’d probably be rather noticeable.

Asher picked up the first page, read it, and then set it down on the sofa on his other side. “All right, I think I have the gist of it. Shall we begin?”

“Might as well.”

He leaned in and she felt the absurd urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“What?” He gave her a curious look.

“This is so very ridiculous.”

His smile made her insides feel warm. “Yes, but how else will a man like me learn?”

“Hookers?”

“Very funny. I trust you. I don’t trust a lot of people, but I trust you.”

For some reason, that made the laughter bubbling in her die. He didn’t trust a lot of people, it was true. He’d been lonely growing up, like her, and had escaped his foster home the moment he was of age. He’d had Donna, but after they’d broken up she realized he’d lost the only person in the world he’d ever let his guard down around. No wonder he’d been such a mess.

She . . . understood that. She was very careful herself about who she trusted. And it made her hate dissipate. Just a little.

Greer remained still, her gaze on his face. It was an oddly tense moment, both of them leaning close together, faces near each other, but neither one moving closer to seal the deal. It was a moment in which she could look at how beautiful Asher was, how close he was to her, and still feel the old ache of
I wish you would notice me
.

He looked at her, expression thoughtful, and then reached out and brushed his knuckles over the line of her jaw. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

That broke her from her reverie. Greer’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “You need to do better than that. You have to make this believable, Ash.”

Asher looked surprised at her response. “You
are
beautiful. Your skin is like . . .” He paused, studying her and thinking.

“Like . . . coffee?” she chimed in. “Chocolate and cream? Do you know how insulting it is to refer to someone as a food? Shall I say that you look like a nice bowl of tapioca yourself?”

“Well, I was going to say your skin is like silk.”

Oh.

“But I can go with something else, if you’d prefer.” He picked up one of the printouts with a flourish, studied it, and then turned back to her. “Greer, my sweet darling, your face is as lovely as a blooming rose.”

She snort-giggled. “The page says that?”

“Nah. It just says to woo her with words.” He crumpled up the paper and tossed the ball of it over his shoulder. “Why don’t you think you’re beautiful?”

Why were they going back to this? “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

Greer sighed. “I’m a small, dark, half-Indian woman. I grew up in my father’s household. Have you ever noticed that every woman in his magazine—with a few rare exceptions—is tall and blonde? Big hair, big breasts, big hips? I have none of those things. I’m quiet and I’m short and I have to wear these.” She gestured at her glasses. “No one ever notices me. Why should I think I’m beautiful?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“Oh, please. You’re the one I tried to get to notice me for the longest time, and you never did. Your words hold no weight now.” Not now that he’d hurt her and left her pregnant with his baby.

He looked surprised. “You did? When I was with Donna?”

“I wouldn’t break up a relationship. But after that, yes. But you were too drunk to ever see me.” She shrugged, wishing the words didn’t still cut like a knife. “Until I threw myself at you and then you just nailed me and left me pregnant. By the way, thanks for that.”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “Every day I learn a new, unpleasant thing about myself, it seems.” He looked . . . sad.

That bothered her, and it shouldn’t have. She didn’t want to make him sad. She just wanted them to be done with each other. “Can we please just kiss now?”

Asher’s smile returned. “Didn’t realize you were so eager, Greer.”

“I’m not!”

“Really? You just demanded that I kiss you.” He slid a bit closer to her on the couch, so close that her legs were practically in his lap. “Allow me to oblige.”

She closed her eyes and braced herself, waiting for the onslaught of tongue. She could get through this. Lots of people kissed every day. She’d just have to be patient until he got better.

His amused chuckle broke through her thoughts. “You’re bracing yourself as if I’m about to power wash your mouth with my tongue.”

“Aren’t you?” she retorted, opening her eyes. “That’s what I seem to recall from last time.”

He threw his head back and laughed, collapsing backward on the couch. “Damn. My ego is completely shredded around you, Greer.” He clasped his hands to his breast, as if shielding his heart. “You never go easy on a guy.”

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, but she refused to let it grow. “Should I? I’m just being honest. It really was
not good
, Asher. Though maybe I should have told you that you were incredible so I wouldn’t be stuck here tonight.”

His laughter sobered and he gave her a warm look. “I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

She said nothing, just hugged the pillow tighter. When they were like this? Oh god, she could see falling in love with him all over again. The laughter, the teasing, the simple joy of being in his presence? Of seeing that gorgeous smile beaming down on her? It was easy to forget that he’d shattered all of her dreams such a short time ago.

But everything was different now, and she needed to remember that. “Can we just do this, please? It’s been a very long day and being pregnant makes me tired.”

“Of course you’re tired. Here, you get comfortable on the couch and we’ll approach this in a different way.” Asher leaped up and moved across the room, heading for the TV. He picked up the remote and started to flick through to the movie rentals. “Do you know of any good movies that feature a lot of kissing? Maybe for tonight we could just watch it on the screen instead, and slowly move into the real thing.”

Oh goodness, that sounded so much better. “Kissing movies?”

“Yeah. Nothing porny, because that won’t show me how to kiss properly. Just normal sorts of movies where normal people kiss the women they love.”

“And you expect me to know of one?” She teased, but oh gosh, she had a dozen.
When Harry Met Sally
,
Dirty Dancing
,
Romeo and Juliet
,
Love Actually
,
Pretty Woman
 . . .

“You’re the romantic.”

She was. “How about
Ghost
? Have you seen that one?”

He typed in the letters and then pulled it up on the rental screen. “With Patrick Swayze?”

“That’s the one.”

“Haven’t seen it.” He clicked the button and returned to the couch. “Rented it, though.”

To give the man credit, he didn’t mock her for her choice in movies. He must have remembered that she was a hopeless romantic, though she did her best to keep it a secret.

“You want a snack or a drink? I think the fridge has some cookies and bottled water, or we can order something.”

“Cookies and bottled water is fine,” she said, giving him a grateful smile. Tonight had turned out to be a lot less painful than she’d envisioned. She’d been imagining letting him maul her for hours on end and in actuality, they’d talked and now were going to watch a movie. No kissing.

She was oddly relieved and yet strangely disappointed at the same time.

He returned with an enormous oversized cookie for her and a bottle of water, and then sat down in the center of the sofa. Instead of giving her space, he put his arms around her and hauled her against him, as if it were a date and they were snuggling.

And she was going to protest, but his body was warm and she was sleepy and the movie was starting. So she ate her cookie, drank some water, and let the story carry her away.

Greer was almost nodding off into sleep—more tired than she’d expected—when a soft brush of something against the back of her hand woke her up. She opened her eyes sleepily and realized that Asher had her hand in his, and he was gently kissing the back of her hand.

“Wha . . . what are you doing?”

“Just practicing. Your sheets said I should practice on my hand.” His lips brushed against the back of her hand again and goose bumps prickled over her body. Her nipples were hard and aching, and terrible, distracting urges were moving through her.

“You’re supposed to practice on your own hand,” she whispered, watching breathlessly as he moved his mouth in a kiss against her hand again. Goodness, she should not be that turned on by watching a man pretend-kiss her hand.

He glanced down at her, a roguish look on his face. “I like yours better. You don’t mind, do you?”

Did she mind? God, no. She watched him press another sultry kiss to the back of her hand and her entire body prickled with awareness again. It had to be the pregnancy hormones that were making her that aroused. Had to be.