Bad Hookup: Billionaire’s Club Book 4

by Elise Faber

  Bas chuckled. “Me either.”

  Another sigh. “So how soon until the bosses figure out we’re playing hooky?”

  “Sooner than we want them to, probably.” The strap from her tank top had slipped down her shoulder. He fixed it.

  Rachel blinked. “You know, most men would have taken that the other direction.”

  He slipped from beneath the sheets and stood. “Maybe.” A peek under the floral patterned comforter covering her. That was followed by a stifled groan. “No, not maybe. That’s a definite.”

  “So why aren’t you in bed with me?”

  He grabbed his slacks and stepped into them. “Because it’s seven thirty on a Tuesday morning, and we both need to get to work.”

  One brown brow rose. “No, that’s not it.”

  Bas had begun buttoning his shirt when Rachel slipped out of bed.

  Fuck.

  He whipped around.

  Those fucking pajamas were all but transparent in the morning light.

  Fingers down his sides, arms trailing around his middle, breasts pressing firmly against his back. “We should wait until you feel—”

  “What?” Rachel slid around to his front and picked up his hand. Then she did something that he never would have predicted and was pretty much the hottest thing ever.

  She spread her legs wider and brought his hand into the waistband of her pajamas.

  Heat. Wet heat. He couldn’t have stopped his fingers from flexing, from sinking into her damp center, from circling the hard bud of her clit.

  And he couldn’t stop himself from capturing her moan with his mouth.

  Soft lips against his, a darting tongue that teased and danced, a lithe female body straining against his hand.

  Sebastian stopped thinking and finally, just reacted.

  He tossed Rachel onto the bed, pulling her pajama bottoms and underwear off in a single movement.

  Then he all but dove for her pussy.

  She groaned as he flicked his tongue over her clit then writhed as he trailed his tongue down one thigh and up the other. “You taste so fucking good,” he said and slipped one finger inside.

  She bucked. “Fuck, Bas!”

  He started to make a snarky comment along the lines of, “Yes, please,” but then she shifted and her tank top slipped again, revealing one puckered nipple. His mouth watered to taste it, but since that was otherwise occupied, he reached up, sliding his hand over the silken skin of her abdomen, cupping the soft globe of her breast, and pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  Rachel screamed and grabbed his head, but instead of pushing him away, as he’d half-expected, she gripped his hair tightly in both fists and thrust her pussy against his mouth.

  He took the hint, moving his tongue faster and with more pressure, slipping another finger inside.

  She moaned again and Bas thought it was pretty much the best sound on the planet.

  He couldn’t resist watching her face as she rocked against him—eyes slammed shut, breath coming in gasps, pink dusting her cheeks.

  She was beautiful. So damned beautiful.

  And then she was . . . almost there, crying his name out on an exhale as if it were a prayer, a benediction, a curse.

  He slid one more finger inside and she exploded.

  Bas had been wrong again.

  That was the best thing ever.

  FIFTEEN

  RACHEL

  * * *

  SHE’D LOST all sensation in her legs.

  Literally.

  The only thing Rachel could feel was her vagina, and that was limited to a warm fuzzy, good feeling that also managed to radiate upward to her heart.

  Okay, so her Bas-driven orgasm was wreaking havoc on her adjective use, but the man was a fucking god in between the sheets.

  Or on top of them, since they hadn’t bothered to actually slip between them.

  But back to the problem with her heart.

  As in Bas’s ability to weasel his way past her defenses. She really should be panicking, right? This feeling, this intense longing for him, for this moment to be something that led to adjectives like long-term and permanent, not to mention nouns like future and relationship, should be scary.

  She’d experienced nearly all the ways permanent, long-term relationships could go wrong.

  And yet, this thing with Bas was different.

  There weren’t any warning signs, there wasn’t that sinking feeling in her gut telling her to stop this before it got out of hand.

  In fact, her gut was telling her to leap.

  That she’d managed to live through the bad and should grab the chance for good, for Sebastian, firmly with both hands.

  “You okay?” the man himself asked.

  Rachel’s eyes were still closed, but she reached a lazy hand in the direction of his face. Stubble teased her palm before he pressed a kiss there. “I’m great.” She forced herself to peel back her lids. “This is where I would expound on the merits of your skills, but I can’t feel my legs.”

  Bas jumped off her. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said.

  “No.” She pushed up, grabbed his shoulders, and plunked herself in his lap before he could do something stupid like get out of bed. “That’s a good thing, baby. You licked me so good that I forgot I even had legs for a minute there.”

  “Oh.” He grinned.

  “Yeah.” Rachel nipped his throat. “I figure we have maybe twenty more minutes before we risk being really behind today or discovered by Boss One and Two, so I think we should make the most of it.”

  “You don’t have—”

  She shifted on his lap, the hard jut of his cock both a tease and an ache . . . as in she’d be walking with an ache later today after it had been inside her. Biting back a snort, knowing that the Sextant had thoroughly corrupted her mind, Rachel leaned up and whispered, “I don’t have to do anything. I want you inside me.”

  His tongue flicked her earlobe. “Sweetheart, twenty minutes isn’t going to cut it. Hell, twenty hours still wouldn’t be enough time for me to do all the things I want to do to you.”

  This man. God. He somehow managed to steal her heart, piece by tiny piece, with his words, his actions . . . just by being him.

  Rachel leaned back and took his face in her palms. “Twenty hours sounds painful, quite honestly.” When he parted his lips, she kissed away his retort, sliding her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. Her lungs were threatening to burst by the time she pulled back. “So, now we have eighteen minutes. Let’s make the most of them, while we have them, okay?”

  His fingers flexed on her arms, cock pulsing beneath her, breath coming in rapid gusts. “You sure?”

  She reached for her nightstand and extracted a condom. “Get inside me, Bas.” She ripped open the packet with her teeth. “Otherwise, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

  One heartbeat, blue-gray eyes locked onto hers. Another and . . . Rachel’s back hit the mattress.

  Her tank top disappeared, tossed over Bas’s shoulder, as she worked on the few buttons he’d managed to do up earlier. Finally, they were opened and she shoved his shirt down his shoulders. He shrugged it off then hesitated, fingers on the waistband of his slacks.

  She brushed his hands aside and undid them herself. “I’m sure,” she panted. “So fucking sure. Now please, Bas. Inside. Now.”

  Abandoning his pants at the top of his thighs, Rachel reached for his underwear and freed his cock. “God, yes,” she said, wrapping one hand around its hard length. “I’ve missed you so, so much.”

  Bas groaned, thrusting into her hand. “Fuck, sweetheart. Don’t talk to it like that.”

  She was too busy stroking her palm up and down the velvet steel to pay much attention. “Like what?”

  “Like it’s your favorite pet and you can’t wait to take him out for a ride.”

  Her lips twitched and she bit back a giggle. “But what if that’s exactly what I want?”

  “Noted. He wants t
hat, too, but this he also wants to make it good.”

  “It’s already good.”

  Sebastian hissed out a curse as she gripped him tightly. “Insert an amusing quip here later,” he said, leaning down to suck one nipple into his mouth, making her melt in pleasure, her grip faltering at least until he released it and cupped her cheek. “Fuck, sweetheart, but your hands on me . . .”

  Enough teasing. Enough dancing around. Rachel rolled the condom down his length, loving how he groaned and his cocked pulsed in her grip. “It’s that good?”

  Storm-filled blue eyes met hers. “So fucking good.” She tugged, positioning him between her spread thighs, but when she shifted, trying to take him inside, Bas hesitated for a beat. “Are you—?”

  Another one of those pieces of her heart slipped from her chest, headed toward Sebastian’s hands. Already, he held that and so much more of her. She liked him so, so much.

  “Twelve minutes,” she reminded. “Also, I’m sure. Really, really sure.” She thrust her hips up and fuck. He was big and hard and—

  He started moving.

  She forgot everything except how good he felt sliding in and out, how he kissed her like she was the most precious thing in the universe, how he slipped one hand between them to press firmly on her clit, how he knew that one touch would send her skyrocketing up and then over the peak into the abyss of blind pleasure down below.

  “Fuck, baby,” he groaned and thrust once, twice, three more times before he was calling out her name and joining her in the chasm beneath.

  “WHY DID I think twenty minutes was enough time again?”

  “Because you’re nuts?” Bas said.

  Rachel was in the shower while Sebastian stood by the sink. She could feel his gaze scorching her through the clear glass panes and wanted to open the door and invite him in.

  But work.

  And responsibilities and adulting.

  Barf.

  She stuck her head under the water, letting it sluice over her body and wet her hair.

  Mid-shampoo, a gust of cold inundated her and her eyes flew open on a gasp.

  Bas stood outside the shower, that molten stare on her.

  “Fuck,” he said and closed the door. “Next time, we are so doing it in the shower.”

  “We could—”

  “Woman,” he growled. “I’m wise to your ways by now. Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Deliberately, he faced away from her and picked up the toothbrush she’d pulled out from her set of unopened spares the previous night.

  Rachel’s lips twitched.

  “Stop smiling.”

  She smoothed conditioner through her hair. “How do you know I’m smiling?”

  This snarly side of him was new, but instead of making her nervous, as she might have half-expected, she actually kind of liked it. Even bad-tempered, Sebastian still looked at her with gentleness in his expression.

  “I can feel your smile from here.”

  “You gave me two of the best orgasms of my life. Clearly, I have something to smile about.”

  He whirled around, toothbrush in hand. “Only two of the best?”

  “Well, you did give me a couple of excellent ones last time we were together.”

  One side of Bas’s mouth quirked up.

  “Thought you’d like that,” she said.

  “Your ego boosts are a thing of beauty.”

  She smothered a giggle, gave her hair one more rinse, then began soaping up. Sebastian turned back to the sink with a groan. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Rachel cranked off the water. “I thought you were going to shower.”

  “I need a cold one at this point.”

  She pushed open the door and snagged a towel, taking her time in wrapping it around her body, loving the way Bas’s eyes never left her body, even though the toothbrush was hanging out of his mouth.

  Stopping just in front of him, she ran one finger down his chest. “Spit.”

  He choked. “What?” It sounded like, “Shmut?”

  “Sink. Toothpaste. Spit.”

  Bas followed her orders, hands clamped into fists.

  “Now shower,” she told him. “I’m going to get dressed.”

  “Thank God,” he muttered. “For the sake of my sanity, I need you to not be naked—”

  She dropped her towel to the tile floor.

  Rachel had never heard that particular curse word combination before.

  She found that she liked it.

  SIXTEEN

  SEBASTIAN

  * * *

  HIS TUESDAY HAD CERTAINLY STARTED off right.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t continue that way.

  Sighing at the welcome package waiting outside the Steele building, Bas steeled himself.

  At least four reporters stood on the sidewalk in front of the building. Normally, he’d be able to breeze right by them, since he wasn’t exactly the face of the business—that was Clay—but Sebastian had been interviewed by one of the reporters recently with regards to the project.

  So instead of striding by unnoticed, Samantha’s laser gaze caught him the moment he stepped out of the Uber and onto the sidewalk in front of the building.

  “Sebastian!” she called, racing over.

  Not idiots, the rest of the reporters rushed to join her.

  Four cameras pointed in his direction and it was just perfect that he was wearing his wrinkled white button-down and giving off definite one-night stand vibes.

  Shit. He started to slip on his jacket, thinking to cover as many of the wrinkles as possible then froze.

  Because maybe he could swing this in his favor.

  Samantha began walking next to him.

  “City officials say that big businesses in San Francisco are sucking up tax breaks and resources, but not giving back as previously agreed. With Steele Technologies withdrawing from the tech and community center project, it’s hard to disagree.”

  Bas rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s not a question, Samantha, but you know all of us at Steele Technologies have been working long hours on this project that would bring tech resources to several underserved and very deserving communities.” He flashed her a smile. “We discussed this very center less than a month ago.”

  “So, what’s changed?” another reporter asked. “Why back out now?”

  Sebastian didn’t have to hide his disappointment when answering. “We didn’t want to back out, but the city has made it nearly impossible for us to proceed. They’ve thrown up roadblocks every step along the way. I mean, just look at me. I’ve been up half the night trying to find a way to move forward.”

  They chuckled and Samantha indicated her cheeks. “I don’t know. The stubble thing is working for you.”

  “Not likely, but I’m not sure how to proceed at this point.” He began ticking off his fingers. “They’ve required three additional environmental reviews, four different structural engineers to sign off on the drawings, and two extra seismic reports. We want the project to be successful and obviously for the space to be safe for the community, but we’ve spent almost as much as budgeted for the entire project on pre-construction alone.” Bas stopped just before entering the building. “And I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that the latest contractor we’ve been required to hire for a quote-un-quote final seismic calculation is the brother-in-law of Councilman Han, do you?”

  Samantha smirked, blond ponytail flicking over her shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, Sebastian.”

  “I hope you do,” he said. “We at Steele sincerely want this project to move forward. For now, I’ve got to get back to work.”

  The reporters thanked Bas as he opened the door.

  Just before it closed behind him, Samantha caught it and asked, “Any chance you can score me playoff tickets? I heard your brother has a box at the Gold Mine.”

  “Wait,” one of the other reporters, a male with a horrible goatee and slightly pudgy middle, asked. “Your brother is the Devon Scott?�
��

  Samantha nodded.

  “I second the request for tickets. The Gold actually have a real shot at the Cup this year.”

  Bas mentally sighed. Even though he’d been retired for close to five years now, the mystique of Devon Scott lived on.

  “No hookup on my end,” he said. “Sorry.”

  And with a brisk wave, he took off for the elevators.

  SEBASTIAN HUNG up the phone after speaking with Clay in depth about the tech center. Sighing, he leaned back in his office chair. He hadn’t wanted to call his boss, had hoped to avoid the conversation altogether and perhaps just share the events of the fallout from the tech center when Clay returned from Berlin as a funny addendum to an otherwise uneventful trip.

  But, unfortunately, that was not to be.

  With the media on the trail and potentially two huge businesses—RoboTech and Steele Technologies—in their crossfire, Bas had done the prudent thing and filled in his boss.

  Clay had taken it surprisingly well, pulling Heather on to speakerphone and the two of them beginning to brainstorm both a solution to the city’s roadblocks and some additional ways to get the press on their side.

  Clearly, both he and his wife were not good at the relaxation thing.

  Heather, apparently, had walked out of the two-hour massage Clay had booked her because, “Who could sit still for that long, anyway?”

  “Crazy kids,” he muttered, though he was feeling more than a little jealous that Clay had found someone so perfect for him.

  Not that he could begrudge his boss. He just wanted to be there with Rachel.

  Patience.

  They’d already come leaps and bounds and it hadn’t even been a week.

  And plus, with Clay taking the tech center off his plate, now Sebastian had a bit more free time to win Rachel over.

  Time to bust out his wooing skills.

  Snorting at his own idiocy, Bas began making a list of everything he wanted to do for Rachel. Flowers, obviously, and he needed to find out which type was her favorite. A nice dinner or dinners. Luckily, San Francisco had plenty of incredible restaurants, and she’d picked up Italian for them the previous night, so a trip down to Little Italy was definitely on the books. He also needed to figure out if she liked hockey, because despite his lie to Samantha, the reporter, Devon did have a box at the Gold Mine, so NHL games were definitely on the docket if Rachel enjoyed that sort of thing.