The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4 (17 page)

“What is it?” He stepped protectively in front of her and glared at a man trying to walk around them on the busy sidewalk. His gaze moved back to her face and then he scanned the street again, possessively looming over her.

That little action made her melt inside. He was looking out for her. Trying to take care of her in the only ways she’d let him. That cinched her decision for her.

She put her hand on his lapel. “Take me back to your place?”

A boy.

Asher didn’t know if he should have been excited or devastated at the afternoon’s events. He’d left his office and come running the moment Gretchen had texted him to let him know that Greer was in town. He’d missed seeing her, and the glimpse of her in the restaurant, laughing and chatting with her friends, unaware of him? He’d fucking fallen hard all over again.

She was radiant. Lovely and radiant and sparkling with happiness.

And he was the fuckup in the equation trying to squeeze himself into her life, to take whatever crumbs she’d throw in his direction. He was fine with that.

Then he’d found out she’d been in town for a doctor visit and he’d nearly lost control, imagining the worst. Greer miscarrying. Greer sick.

But it was a normal check-up, and the baby was a boy.

It wasn’t that the gender mattered. He didn’t give a crap. It could have had two heads and nine arms and he’d have been fucking ecstatic. It was that finding the gender out had taken things from
this is happening at some point
to
this shit is real and it is happening now
.

And he was devastated at the thought of her cutting him out of her life after Stijn’s joke of a wedding.

But then she’d sweetly reached for him and asked him to take her home, and his heart had nearly burst.

He’d take her back to his place, and then he’d pleasure her for so long and so hard that she’d never think again about leaving him. He wanted her dickmatized and craving more. So tonight? Tonight he had to be fucking perfect, because everything rode on pleasing her.

Greer was quiet and self-contained as they rode in the taxi together back to his place. He brushed his hand against hers and was pleased when her fingers laced with his. The only sign of nervousness on her otherwise impassive face? Her sweaty palm.

Hell, even that was adorable.

He was nervous, too. There was too much riding on this. He tried not to fidget as they entered his building and went up the elevator to his apartment.

When he opened the door to his apartment, Asher immediately wanted to close it again. The place was clean—he had a maid that came in daily and tidied things up—and it wasn’t as enormous or lavish as other apartments because he didn’t need the space for himself. What bothered him was that everywhere he looked, he saw old reminders of Donna’s touch: the couch she’d insisted upon getting, the rug she’d wanted to cover the hardwood floors, the ugly vase she thought would make a great centerpiece for the gigantic wooden table that dominated his foyer.

It felt wrong to bring Greer back here. He’d never paid a bit of attention to the furniture before now. Hell, he was a guy. He didn’t think about furniture, period. But seeing Greer walk in reminded him that he’d changed mentally since he and Donna had split, but like the photo lingering in his desk, there were signs of her here, too.

“Looks the same as it ever has,” Greer commented, setting her purse down on a nearby end table.

Had she been to his apartment before? He racked his brain, trying to remember. Ah, a holiday party a few years back. Shit. How long had he been overlooking the best thing in his life? How had he never invited her back in the years since? “It’s all going to change.”

She looked back at him, curious. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Hiring a decorator on Monday. I’m tired of the look here. Feels . . . old. Outdated.” Like it was someone else’s apartment entirely.

Greer gazed about the room, nodding slowly. She stepped into the living area and ran a hand along the hideous leather sofa that was so damn uncomfortable but had cost a small fortune. “It’s nice but I can understand wanting a change. What were you thinking of doing? Something more classic?”

“What do you think I should do?”

She looked back at him, startled. “Me? I’m not a decorator.”

“No, but you have excellent taste. I’ve seen the weddings you put together. You have a good eye for classy touches.”

The look of pleasure on her face at his words? It made him hungry for more. He wanted that. He wanted to see that look when she was under him. When he told her she was beautiful. When her body was clasping so tightly around his cock—

“Something warmer, maybe.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked back at him. “It’s a little cold the way it’s set up right now, but some warmer colors and a few softer pieces and it’d be very cozy and homey. Unless you want the place to appear bigger?”

“Nah. I like cozy.” He especially liked the way she said it. “I’m just one guy. I don’t need a massive place.”

She nodded and her hand went to her stomach briefly. “My place is pretty small, too.”

The baby. He’d forgotten about the baby. Much as he wanted to drop to his knees and press his face to that gently rounded stomach, he forced himself to hold back. “You going to upgrade once Junior arrives?”

She made a face at him. “Not Junior. And I hadn’t given it much thought. Actually, I haven’t had much time to think at all, lately.”

“That’s because your father’s an ass.”

Greer gave him another ghost of a smile and wandered toward his short hallway, where his office and bedroom were located. She paused in the doorway to the master bedroom, then chuckled. “Well, I suppose that answers my question before I ask it.”

“What question?” He followed after her, curious.

As he rounded the corner, he saw his bedroom was just as he’d left it this morning—a mess. Yesterday’s suit jacket was still tossed over a nearby chair, the bed was unmade, the ridiculous throw pillows that normally decorated it (another Donna thing he’d always hated and simply tolerated) on the floor. On the left side of the bed, his laptop, several printouts, and a wealth of Post-it notes were scattered.

“I was going to ask if you’ve kept busy lately, but I see that you have.” She looked over at him, and her lips twitched with amusement. “Taking your work home with you?”

He rubbed his head, rueful. “That wasn’t the plan. I hired a CEO to take over the running of things but he’s having trouble jumping in and taking command. This last week has been nothing short of hellish.”

“Guess all of this means you haven’t had much company lately?” She delicately nudged one of the pillows with her shoe. Her voice was light but she wasn’t looking at him.

“Why would I want company?” he said bluntly. “All I want is you.”

Greer looked up in surprise, her face soft.

“It’s true,” he told her. “You may not believe me yet, but that’s fine. I’m good with waiting.”
You’re it for me and I don’t care how long it takes.

She bit her lip and glanced around his room, as if desperate to look anywhere but at him. “We should probably talk, Asher.”

Oh no.
We should talk
was usually the herald of something bad. He didn’t want to talk. Tonight, he wanted Greer in his arms, and they could talk tomorrow. He’d missed her too much to let this opportunity slip past him. “Did you really come up here with me to talk, Greer?”

And he gently tugged those large glasses off her face.

She blinked rapidly as he pulled them off, reminding him of an owl. An adorably sexy owl. He eyed her, contemplating unwrapping her like a present. She was all buttoned up in one of her favorite blouses and her hair was pulled back into a tight knot that he was just itching to undo.

“Well?”

“No,” she said softly. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”

Good. He continued to study her, drinking in the sight of her body. He loved that she was smaller than him, barely reaching his shoulder. He itched to hold her against him, to explore with his hands the curves that pregnancy was giving her. He had dreamed of her small breasts with their dark tips, and—

“Asher?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you just staring at me?”

“I’m trying to figure out which part I want to unveil first.” He rubbed his chin and circled around her, making a big show of examining her clothing. “This is all part of my practice.”

“I see.” There was no mistaking the amusement in her voice. “Do let me know if you need me to participate in any way.”

“Oh, I will.” He stepped directly in front of her and reached for the tight knot of hair at the back of her head. “Can I undo this?”

She nodded, the expression on her face serious, intense. Greer didn’t play in bed, he realized. She took everything as deeply serious as she did the other aspects of her life. He was fascinated by that . . . and determined to break through that rigid control a little. It was all right with him if she channeled that intensity into the bed. He’d love nothing more than that.

Asher’s fingers felt for the tie holding her hair back . . . only to not find anything. “Uh, how do you keep this in place?”

Greer chuckled, the sound throaty and oh-so-wicked to his ears. “I have a clip and several pins, actually. Do you want me to do it?”

The only thing sexier than him letting her hair loose was her doing it for him. “Please do.” He let his hands drop back to his sides and watched as she expertly began to unravel her tight hair. Pin after pin came out, and with each one gone, the black mass of waves grew a little looser. A thick lock escaped and hung at her jaw, torturing him with its subtle motions as she continued to work on losing her hair.

Then, with a single move, it was free, and her rich black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Asher groaned at the sight. With it down, she went from lovely to utterly breathtaking. His fingers itched to drag through that long, luxurious mass, to spread it through his fingers and let it flow over his skin. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Mmm.” Her voice sounded as if she didn’t quite believe him, but she gave her hair a little toss and ran her fingers through it anyhow. “Easy to say that when I’m about to get naked with you.”

“Easy to say it, full stop.” Asher couldn’t stop looking at her. Another flash of whiskey-muddied memory rolled through his mind, of Greer with thick curls held back by a shiny headband, gazing up at him. Her low-cut costume. She’d had her gorgeous hair loose that night, too.

Damn. Being drunk that night had caused him to miss out on all kinds of good things. Never again. As long as Greer was his to touch, he’d be sober so he could enjoy every second of it.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, brushing a silky lock of hair away from her face.
Can I kiss you everywhere?

Greer nodded and tilted her head up in anticipation of his mouth.

As if he could resist that? With a fierce surge of pleasure, Asher buried his hands in her hair, cradling her head, and his mouth swooped over hers. Her soft lips parted under his kiss, a silent plea for more, and he was all too happy to oblige. Greedy for the taste of her, Asher plundered her mouth with his tongue, thrusting and claiming it the way he’d claim the rest of her shortly.

She whimpered against him and her hands went to his arms, curling against the sleeves of his shirt as if she needed support to remain standing.

He loved how responsive she was. She didn’t scream her pleasure like some women, or demand things, or even make filthy requests. But her subtle movements—her sighs, her ways of angling her body for his attention, the way she gasped—he knew what each one meant and he hungered to wring more from her. He licked deeply at the sweet well of her mouth, and her tongue curled up to meet his with each taste of her. Greer’s mouth was bliss. Sinful, utter bliss.

And he could have kissed her for hours. Hell, part of him wanted to. She was deliciously pliant under him, giving no matter how much he demanded, and silently begging for more with each little stroke of her tongue against his. But he’d been away from her for too long—the last week felt like an eternity. And his body was craving more than just kisses from her. Now that he had her in his arms and in his bedroom?

She was going to get everything he had to offer, and he was going to make her realize that one drunken encounter wasn’t what she should judge him off of.

He pressed small kisses to her mouth, and then began to kiss and nip along her jaw. “I’m going to strip you naked and touch every last inch of you.”

“All right.” She sounded so calm. It was almost as if he’d asked her to hand him the newspaper instead of demanding to take off her clothing.

That made him pause. He kissed her mouth again—because really, it was irresistible—and sucked gently on her lower lip. When he released it, he murmured, “You’re not nervous?” He remembered quite distinctly that her first time was that drunken incident in the gardens. The memory of those words was burned into his brain.

“Should I be?”

The little smile touching the edges of her mouth was so damn sexy, he couldn’t resist kissing it again. “This is your second time having sex, right? Most people are nervous for a while.”

The delicate little snort she gave was charming. “I’ve already had a worst-case scenario, Asher. Bad sex in a public spot, no foreplay, no orgasm.” She ticked each grievance off her fingers. “Then you got me pregnant.”

“Ouch.” He really was the worst ever. And he was going to make it up to her, even if he had to spend the next six years kissing her bare feet. Or six decades. Whatever it took.

“I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just telling you the truth.” She leaned in and brushed her fingers over his mouth, that small touch sending shock waves straight to his groin. “The way I see it, tonight can go two possible ways.”

“I’m listening.”

“Either you’re as completely terrible as I expect, and we can practice until you get better, like I thought. Or . . . you’re amazing and you’ve been lying to me this entire time just to get me in your bed.”

Well, when she put it that way . . . “Which do you want it to be?”

“Considering I would rather not be the recipient of another round of truly terrible sex?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Damn. You really do have a way of flattening a man’s ego.”

She tapped his lower lip with her finger. “Consider it payback for you being a jerk.”

“Fair enough.” He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips. “But I intend on making you yell out my name tonight.”

“Fair enough,” she echoed, gazing up at him with such serious eyes. “You’re welcome to try.”