The Billionaire’s Secret Heart (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance) (2 page)

I
stepped
into the doorway of the VIP lounge and almost stumbled as my path was blocked by a wall of a man with a chest that looked as wide as the doorway.

"Hand," he barked, his eyes scanning me, then Stuart. I showed him my hand, and he studied the stamp, then did the same to Stuart before stepping back in silence to allow us entry.

Again, the room defied my expectations. Polished, dark wood surrounded us—in the beams of the ceiling, the walls, and the long, packed bar. Plush leather chairs and couches filled the room, creating intimate seating areas, an oasis of elegance and calm. If the club-goers in the lower levels had been glamorous, those up here were a cut above. Everything about the VIP lounge said wealth and privilege.

This wasn't a place to be seen. This was where the elite went to relax with their own kind. Again, I wondered from whom Stuart had gotten his VIP invite. Neither of us belonged here, not even close. I planned to enjoy my visit to the other side as long as it lasted. If nothing else, I was going to have tons to tell Emily when I got home.

I let Stuart lead me to a loveseat in a corner, the only place to sit that wasn't already claimed. Sharing the small couch with Stewart wasn't my idea of a good time, but the alternative was standing, and not only did my feet hurt, but I didn't want to attract that kind of attention. I sat, hugging the arm of the loveseat furthest from Stewart, and tried to arrange my legs so they were nowhere near his.

A waitress in a little black dress appeared beside me. She was stunning, with long, sleek blonde hair and sharp cheekbones. Her dress was blatantly sexy, displaying her miles of toned leg and more than a hint of cleavage, but it wasn't trashy. Her look was class, from head to toe. Stuart ordered for both of us—a draft for him and a rum and diet coke for me. The waitress must have caught my scowl, or she had good instincts, because she raised her eyebrow at me after Stuart's order. I smiled at her in appreciation.

"A Bellini, please." I'd have to spring for an Uber after this, but even if I wasn't driving, I had no intention of getting drunk with Stuart. I loved champagne, but even when it was mixed with something, I always ended up sipping it. Not only did I not drink rum and diet anything, but I didn't want a strong drink.

Stuart eyed my legs and said, "I would have thought a girl like you would order something lighter."

I didn't respond. First of all, with the way he was leering at my legs, it was clear he found them attractive. And second, any man with manners bad enough to comment on the calorie level in my drink was beyond saving. I wasn't going to waste my one visit to the VIP lounge of the hottest club in town on trying to civilize Stuart. He was beyond help.

Resolved to ignore him, I took a sip of my Bellini and turned to check out the rest of the room. The VIP lounge was the perfect place to people watch. I started with the seating area adjacent to ours. It was larger, with a full-size couch and two wide arm chairs. The closest side of the couch was inches from where I sat, hugging the arm of our loveseat. The far side was occupied by a man with his back to me. In one of the arm chairs, a tall, slender blonde perched, leaning into the man, her hand on his leg and a seductive smile on her face. Sitting closer to me was another man, also facing the blonde. I couldn't see either of their faces, but both men had broad shoulders, long legs, and the same thick, dark hair.

Stuart's hand landed on my knee, his touch cool and a little clammy. Yuck. Drawing my legs back, I tucked them to the side, the position uncomfortable but far better than having his fingers on me. He sucked at his drink, the slurping sound audible in the tight space, and leaned closer, his eyes glued to my breasts. Double yuck. I started to wonder if experiencing the VIP lounge was worth putting up with Stuart.

Desperate to divert him, I said, "So, what were you saying before about the current limits on campaign donations and how they can be finessed?"

Stuart started to talk, and all I heard was, "Wahh, wahh, wahh." If our dinner was any indication, he'd be good for at least twenty minutes before he ran out of steam. Knowing he wouldn't notice, I looked around the room again. This time, as I turned my head, my eyes fell on the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. He was sitting on the end of the couch closest to me, his full lips quirked in amusement.

"Good one," he said, his low voice washing over me like warm honey. Dark eyes traveled my body slowly, making no effort to hide his appraisal. Unlike Stuart's leer, this man's look was all admiration. I crossed my legs, startled by the rush of heat between them from just a look.

"Excuse me?" I asked, watching him from the corner of my eye while keeping my face turned in Stuart's direction. The stranger gave a soft laugh.

"Please tell me this is a first date," he said, his voice quiet enough to avoid Stuart's attention. "You look way too smart to go out with this guy a second time."

I stifled a laugh and risked a quick turn of my head to meet his eyes, whispering, "Blind date. I almost left him at dinner when we split the check and he tried to stiff the waitress, but he had a VIP invite, and I've never been here before . . ." I trailed off, biting my lip.

I was constitutionally incapable of being cool. Oh, well. I was never one for pretending to be what I wasn't. Cool, at least the VIP level of cool, was beyond me. I shifted in my seat, angling my body toward the hot stranger as I turned my face back to Stuart. He was still rambling on about his dissertation and slurping at his drink, unaware I was talking to another man.

"Ouch," the stranger said. "How did a guy like that get a date with a woman like you? You're way out of his league."

I blushed. Feeling the heat in my cheeks, I blushed harder. I cleaned up well, but the make up and the short skirt weren't really me. This man was gorgeous. I'd bet he'd be gorgeous the morning after a bender, with no sleep, hungover. I took another quick look, one that ended up lingering as I took in his bladed cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and shining, thick hair the color of espresso. I couldn't see much of his body, but the length of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders hinted it would be worth getting a closer look.

The stranger beside me wasn't just some guy. He was a man. He lounged on the couch as if he owned the place, both commanding and at ease. I shifted in my seat as he tilted his head closer to mine, his warm breath on my cheek sending a pulse of need straight between my legs. I'd never reacted to a man like this, my body jumping to 'Go' before I knew his name. But as I mentioned, the man beside me was no 'guy'. He was more potent than any male I'd ever spoken to before. It was no wonder my body was overwhelmed.

His lips grazed my ear as he said, "Do you want to come sit over here?"

My jaw must have dropped. I
did
want to go sit over there. Could I? Just stand up and abandon my lackluster blind date? Before I could respond, I felt the stranger beside me shake his head. "No," he said. "Never mind. Let's just get out of here. I want to show you something."

I was still trying to catch up when he stood. Taking the step from his seating area to mine, he stopped before me, his hand extended. I stared up at him dumbly. I'd been right. His body was well worth a closer look. Looming above me, he filled my vision. I didn't think about it. I just put my hand in his larger one and let him pull me to my feet.

Off in the distance, through the buzzing in my ears, I heard a laugh and a female gasp, then caught the sound of Stuart sputtering a protest. The stranger had me caught in a spell, his dark gaze hot as he scanned my face, dipping only briefly to my exposed cleavage before locking on my eyes.

Pulling me closer, he said, "I know it's crazy, and completely inappropriate, but I've been wanting to do this since you walked in the door."

A sharp tug on my hand and I fell forward, closing the inches between us, my breasts pillowing against his hard chest. Startled, I looked up to see his face draw closer until his mouth came down on mine. I'd been kissed before—not a ton, but more than a few times. I'd never been kissed like this. His arm wrapped around my waist, pressing my body to his, turning me until my legs straddled his thigh. His hand closed over my hip with a possessive grip.

He didn't start slow. His lips hit mine, opening my mouth to him, his tongue stroking, teasing me, claiming me. If I'd thought about it, I'm sure I would have done something—backed away, protested, something. Anything other than what I did. I curled my fingers around his shoulders and held on for dear life while a complete stranger ravaged me with the kiss of a lifetime.

I'd stepped out of my boring blind date and into a dream. I'd never seen a man this hot in real life, much less been kissed by one. I didn't have it in me to shut him down. Maybe it was the margaritas at dinner or the pathetic excuse for a date. Maybe the stranger kissing me was just that hot. I didn't care. I kissed him back with everything I had, holding on tight, relishing the scrape of his stubble on my cheek and the heat of his lips moving on mine.

When he finally broke the kiss, I was panting. I may have been whimpering, just a little. His lips dropped to my ear, nipping the lobe for a second before he said, "Do you want to get out of here?"

Speech was beyond me. I nodded, my eyes on his, then on the floor. Now that we weren't kissing any longer, I couldn't bear to see the faces of the people around us. I'd kissed a complete stranger in a bar. And not a peck. That had been a full on, hand groping, tongues twining kiss. A panty soaking,
please, please take me somewhere and get me naked
kind of kiss.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I fumbled for my purse with one hand, the other firmly in the stranger's grip. I caught a glimpse of Stuart's outraged face as I was turned in the direction of the door. Behind me, I heard Stuart say, "You can't just take my date!"

He got no answer. I had no idea what to say, and apparently, my new date had deemed him unworthy of a response. I followed the stranger down the stairs and out into the alley, wondering what the hell I was doing leaving the club with a man I'd just met. I knew other women did this all the time, but I never had. Maybe it was my turn to loosen up a little and have some fun. I still couldn't believe I'd caught the eye of a man like this, and I wasn't going to ruin it by second-guessing myself.

I let the stranger lead me out of the alley and onto the street. He turned me back in the direction of the restaurant where I'd had dinner with Stuart. Dimly, I noted that moving in the direction of my car was probably a good thing. His voice interrupted the quiet, startling me out of my thoughts.

"What's your name?" he asked, releasing my hand so he could slide his arm around my shoulders.

"Josephine," I said. "Jo."

"Do you go by Josephine or Jo?" he asked.

"Mostly Jo," I said in a whisper, embarrassed by my tomboyish name. Normally, I liked it, but tonight, it didn't feel like it fit me.

"I like Josephine. You look like a Josephine." He must be a mind reader. Answering the question on my lips, he said, "I'm Holden."

"Do you usually steal women away from their dates?" I asked tartly, then flushed at my tone. He laughed, looking down at me. I was five feet, five inches tall—not short, but he towered above me. He must have been at least a few inches over six feet. He grinned at me and shook his head, saying, "Never. I can honestly say that I've never stolen a girl from her date in the VIP Room at Mana before."

"So you have stolen a woman from her date before? Just not there?" I asked in the same tart tone. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but his complete self-assurance made me want to poke at him, just a little.

"I may have broken up a date or two in the past," he confessed. "But I don't go to the VIP room to hook up. If I want a woman, I hit the club downstairs. The VIP room is for relaxing."

I started to make a sharp comment about the easy way he described the club as if it were an 'All You Can Eat' buffet. Sneaking a look at his chiseled profile, I shut my mouth. For him, it probably was. I bet most of the women in that club would have tripped over themselves—and their dates—if they thought Holden was interested in taking off their clothes. I was very aware of how wet my panties were after one kiss.

"So why me?" I asked before I could stop myself.

H
olden didn't answer
my question. It was just as well. Either he'd lie and tell me it was love at first sight or some bullshit like that, or he'd tell the truth, which would likely be unflattering, considering I was a girl who'd left a club with a complete stranger and was heading home with him. At least, I assumed that's where we were heading.
I thought you looked like an easy hook up
was probably closer to the truth, but it would put a huge damper on my mood.

Just as I was telling myself to stop overthinking, Holden stopped at the front door of an imposing brick building. Winters House. I'd been here a few times. There was a funky coffee house on the first floor that made a killer latte, and it was close to campus. Did Holden live here? I'd heard there were apartments in the upper floors, above the retail and the offices, but I'd also heard they were huge, unbelievably expensive, and you practically had to sell your firstborn child to get one.

A horrible thought occurred to me. Holden looked older than me, but not old enough to own one of these places. Please tell me he didn't live with his parents. Never mind. I shoved that thought right out of my head. No way this guy lived at home. Maybe he was just taking me for coffee. After that kiss, I'd been sure we were headed straight to bed—and, margaritas aside, it was weird how cool I was with that—but what did I know? I didn't leave bars with strangers every day. Maybe he thought coffee and a scone came next.

I was wrong. Holden strode through the lobby with me beside him, ignoring the coffee house, the upscale boutique, and the art gallery, and headed directly for the elevators. Ushering me in before him, he pressed a button, then lay his palm on a flat, dark screen. A green line passed beneath his palm, up and down, then up again. The line vanished, and the elevator slid smoothly to the upper floors. I stared at Holden in disbelief.

"Was that a palm scanner?" I asked. I didn't spend a lot of time in high-end buildings, but a palm scanner seemed a little extreme. Holden shrugged.

"We take our security seriously," he said. "And certain people kept losing their keys." He scowled, and I had the feeling he was well-acquainted with the loser of the keys.

"So, you live here?" I asked, hesitant.

"Yep." He didn't offer any more information, and I didn't want to press. Actually, I did want to press, but the gleam in his dark eyes as he backed me into the corner of the elevator distracted me. I decided I didn't care if he still lived at home. All I cared about was getting those big, strong hands on me again.

I didn't have to wait long. Holden didn't stop until my back was pressed into the polished wood of the elevator wall, penning me in with his tall frame. I gasped in surprise when his hands closed around my waist and he lifted me, pinning me to the wall with his hips, one hand clamped on my ass. His lips found mine, and I was lost. It didn't occur to me to wonder if anyone else might get in the elevator or to worry that he'd tugged my dress down until my full breasts spilled free.

His hard cock pressed between my legs, only his jeans and my thin silk dress between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in deeper, grinding against him, moaning as my mouth drew on his and my tongue tasted him, my hands buried in his thick, silky hair.

Holden's hand on my ass had moved beneath my short skirt, pushing my panties aside until one long finger traced around my pussy. I surged against his finger, needing to feel him inside me, my sense of control completely lost. I had no clear idea where I was or what I was doing. I just wanted more of him.

"Holden." I gasped his name, squirming and grinding against him. I never noticed when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. His mouth left mine, and he lifted me from the wall, carrying me, still kissing me, from the elevator.

"Fuck me, you're hot," he said in a growl, opening a door and pushing inside. We didn't get very far, no more than a few steps, before he set me down on a cool, hard surface. In the dim light, I thought we might be in a kitchen. Before I could look around, he unzipped my dress and whipped it over my head. I didn't have a second to get self-conscious. When he stepped back and started at me, the heat in his eyes made me dizzy.

"Take off your bra," he said, his gaze fixed on my breasts, barely contained by the thin, lacy bra. My hands trembling, I reached behind me and flicked open the clasp, letting the dark straps fall down my arms. The lacy cups hung for a moment on the tips of my beaded nipples before the wisp of fabric slipped free. I let the bra fall to the floor and braced my hands behind me, arching my back and offering my breasts to Holden.

He groaned deep in his throat and lunged forward, filling his hands with my breasts, his mouth on one nipple, teeth teasing me with tiny bites as his fingers pinched and twisted the other side. I wiggled my hips forward until they met his at the edge of the counter, wrapping my legs around him, needing to feel his hard length between my legs, even with my panties and his jeans between us.

Never, in my entire life, had I imagined desire like this. Holden was more than hot, and this was more than lust. I needed him—needed him inside me, his mouth on me, his cock fucking me. I wanted to beg, to demand, but I was too busy just trying to breathe.

He released my breasts and stepped back. I heard a snap of metal just before the rustle of his jeans hit the floor. Then, a sound I'd never heard before—fabric tearing as he ripped my lace panties to get to my pussy. As if I hadn't already been boiling over with desire, the feel of cool air on my wet pussy was almost more than I could take.

"Please, Holden," I whimpered. The head of his cock nudged my entrance, and I arched my hips, more than ready for him. Reality got in the way. "Wait," I said, almost sobbing with frustration.

"Fuck. Condom. Don't move," he ordered. Then he was gone. If he'd taken too long, I might have had time for my brain to kick into gear and remind me that I was naked in the kitchen of a man I didn't know, about to have sex with him. Fortunately for my sex-starved body, I didn't have time to do more than register how wet I was, how good his mouth had felt on my breasts, and how cold the marble countertop was against my heated skin before Holden was back.

He leaned into me, his chest hard against my nipples, his cock pressing into my pussy, stretching me open. Either he was huge, or in the year since I'd had sex, I'd magically become a virgin again. Based on his general size, I was guessing he had a big cock. Exact inches didn't matter. The only thing I cared about was the delicious feeling of him pushing his way inside me, setting every nerve in my pussy on fire, until he was buried to the hilt, his pelvic bone shoved right up against my swollen clit. Fuck me. I'd never felt anything this good.

Never. My breath sobbed out of my chest in gasps. I gripped his shoulders and held on as he began to pump his hips, fucking that thick cock into me in short, staccato thrusts that worked my clit exactly the right way.

I heard myself crying out as my first orgasm hit, barely a minute after he started to move, my voice keening and breathless. Holden rode me through the waves, then pulled out of me and lay me down on the counter, his mouth tracing a path from my breast to my shoulder to my neck before finding my lips.

His kiss was carnal. Obscene. His mouth took over, his tongue sliding against mine, his lips opening me, taking everything. When he fucked his cock back into me, it felt twice as big, and I was as desperate as if I hadn't come in months.

"Josephine," Holden breathed into my ear. "Fuck, Josephine, your pussy is so fucking tight."

I couldn't do anything but moan in response. His words were direct and so dirty, but the way he said my name . . . he drew it out like it was a song, or a prayer.

Josephine
.

It had always felt too old-fashioned, but when Holden said it, it was exactly right.

"You feel so fucking good on my cock," he whispered in my ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you come all over me, sweet Josephine, and then I'm going to fucking fill you up."

A sound escaped my throat, something between a whimper and a plea. One of his big hands went to my lower back, lifting me and angling my pussy down as he thrust up, filling me another impossible inch. The head of his cock rubbed my G-Spot, the base of it ground into my clit, and the top of my head blew off as my second orgasm hit me in a blinding rush of bliss.

I may have passed out a little after that. The next thing I remember, Holden was carrying me to his bathroom. He set me down beside a huge white soaking tub and turned on the water. Steam billowed up, filling the room. With his hand on my back, he nudged me up the steps and into the tub, joining me after adding a generous squirt of something that smelled like oranges and sunshine.

Despite the size of the tub, it filled quickly. Normally, I would have minded getting my hair wet—it was long, thick, and took forever to dry—but I was so relaxed from two orgasms, I probably would have let Holden cut it all off. He settled us against the back of the tub, me between his spread legs, his half-hard cock against my lower back. My head lolled on his shoulder and his hands rested on my ribs, his fingertips teasing the underside of my breasts.

"So, do you go out on a lot of blind dates?" he asked, as if picking up our earlier conversation in the VIP room of Mana.

"Mmm, not really. That was a favor to my advisor," I admitted. "Her nephew."

"Is that going to be a problem for you?" he asked. Trying to get my sleepy, aroused brain in gear, I thought about his question.

"I don't think so," I said. "She's pretty cool." I thought about the way we'd left—me kissing Holden right in front of Stuart, then walking out without a word to my date. "I guess it depends on what he tells her."

Before I could start stressing about what Stuart might say to my advisor, Holden asked, "What's she advising you in?"

"I'm a grad student," I explained, "at Tech." I gave him the short version of what I was studying. It was pretty specialized, and most people were good with me leaving out the details. I can't remember how much I told him. His fingers started trailing across my breasts, drawing designs on my skin with water and suds until I forgot I'd been talking at all.

He turned me over, shifting my body until I was straddling him, my face tucked into his neck. I loved his body, the size of him, the way I fit against him. I wasn't a small girl, and Holden didn't seem huge, but he was big enough to make me feel delicate, and that was a feat.

He must have put a condom by the side of the tub, because he was suited up and sliding inside me a moment later. I ground down on him, taking every inch, rocking and sliding as his strong hands gripped my ass. When the orgasm started to rise, I sank my teeth into his shoulder to hold back my scream.

"God, baby. Yes. Fuck my cock, Josephine. Fuck me hard."

I did as I was told, losing control, water splashing to the floor as I chased my orgasm. My pussy clamped down hard, my release milking Holden dry.

I don't remember how we got from the tub to his bed. Somewhere along the way, he dried me off and tucked me between sheets so smooth, I thought they couldn't possibly be cotton. I passed out with my head on his chest, his arm holding me close.

I only woke once, in the early morning, to find myself flat on my back, my legs spread with Holden between them. As if we'd been fucking for years instead of hours, I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his hips, my mouth meeting his in a soft, slow kiss. That time, he took me gently, taking his time, his hands stroking me everywhere. I fell back asleep after we came, curled into him, every breath drawing in his woodsy, male scent.

* * *

I
woke
to blinding sunlight in my half-open eyes. Squinting, I rolled over, trying to figure out where I was. Not my bedroom. I had a tiny window that faced away from the sunrise—one of my favorite things about my apartment. Blinking my stinging eyes, I sat up, feeling my stomach roll. The wave of nausea brought everything back.

Stuart. The awful date. Meeting Holden. Going home with Holden. Oh my God, had I seriously gone home with a strange guy and slept with him? Three times? I didn't know whether to be ashamed or proud of myself. I'd never done anything like this in my entire life. I jumped out of the bed like a scalded cat and retreated to the other side of the room, staring at the body between the smooth, heavy sheets in a combination of fascination and horror.

In sleep, Holden looked even hotter than my blurry brain remembered. He lay on his stomach, arms and legs splayed, like a child. His body belonged to a man—honey gold skin stretched over defined shoulders and a well-muscled back. His feet stuck out beneath the sheets at the end of the bed, and even his toes were hot—as tan as the rest of his skin, with little golden hairs. He looked perfect.

Had I really slept with that man? I remembered the way he'd laid me out on the kitchen counter and fucked me until I'd come twice. The stretch of his cock pressing into my body was burned into my brain. I hadn't just slept with him. I'd fucked him three times, begging for it, screaming when I came. My cheeks burned at the memory.