Pushing His Luck (Winning the Billionaire)

by Kira Archer

  “I’m not going to bite. Unless you ask me to.”

  That got a shy grin out of her, but she still didn’t move. So, he went to her, and this time, he pulled her into the room. Then he took the shawl and wrapped it around her waist, leaving one end out. It went around her twice, and he tied it off with the end he’d left sticking out at her waist. “Perfect!”

  She raised an eyebrow, and he held up a hand. “Yeah, well, take the jeans off first and add the white shirt. Then it’ll be perfect.”

  She looked down, her fingers running through the tassels. “Not bad. Maybe you missed your calling as a designer.”

  “You laugh, but I can design the shit out of an evening dress. My sister and I designed a whole collection for a talent show once. Won first place.” He grinned at her, still feeling a rush of pride at that accomplishment.

  “I’m going to need to see pictures of that.”

  “Done. But first, go change.” He turned her around and shooed her out of the room so he could change himself. He couldn’t wait to get her on the dance floor.

  They met back in the hallway ten minutes later. She’d left her hair down, and it cascaded around her shoulders in a fluffy riot of waves that had him itching to sink his fingers into it. And he’d been right about the outfit. The shawl hugged her curves like it had been made for them and the white shirt… His mouth turned into a dried-out wasteland, and he forced a swallow.

  It covered her, but the buttons she’d left undone gaped when she moved, showing him a tantalizing peek of cleavage. She’d rolled the sleeves up to her elbows, and a tiny hint of her belly showed every now and then. The knowledge that it was his shirt she wore sent an already stellar outfit off the charts. A sudden vision of her wearing nothing but that shirt, her hair rumpled from a night in his bed, had his head spinning.

  He started to rethink the whole salsa dancing thing. It was something he always did when he was at this particular house. There was a club not too far away that he loved. And it had been a long day. He wanted to blow off some steam and see if Ms. All About the Numbers could cut loose and have a little fun again. That glimpse of her rocking out on stage had whetted his appetite for more.

  Not that he didn’t enjoy her company when she didn’t have a guitar in her hands. He was actually surprised at how much he did, given their different philosophies on life and behavior in general. Still, a night out on the town would do them both some good.

  At least, that had been his thinking. Now…he was more than a little afraid it might lead to trouble. Normally, he was down for a good dose of trouble. But he wasn’t sure he could handle the kind of trouble she’d bring.

  Then again, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

  “Is this okay?” she asked, a note of anxiety in her voice.

  He realized he’d been standing there just staring at her for several moments and tried to shake off the daze she’d put him in.

  “Perfection,” he said.

  Her slow, sultry smile triggered an endorphin rush like he’d never felt before. Better than skydiving. He could so easily become addicted to it. To her.

  Oh yeah. Challenge accepted.

  Chapter Twelve

  The warmth that flooded through Charley at that single word damn near curled her toes. How could one little word—and a smolder that would burn down a brick house—make her want to toss out every rule she’d ever made for herself?

  She wasn’t generally a go-out-dancing type girl. But after the excitement of the bull run, she had a lot of pent-up adrenaline that needed an outlet. Getting it out on the dance floor was far preferable to a few other ways she could think of to burn off some steam. Well, the consequences were preferable, anyway. A few turns on the dance floor wouldn’t destroy her career like a couple other energetic options that came to mind.

  Her gaze took in Chris again, raking him over from his artfully tousled hair, down his broad shoulders and muscular chest that strained the ultra-soft T-shirt he wore, down to the slacks that hung from his hips, clinging just enough to outline his well-sculpted ass.

  Dayum. Might be worth ruining a career or two over.

  She closed her eyes. It only helped a little. But enough that she could function again. Her reaction to him was disturbing on a level she’d never experienced before. Seriously, what the hell? He was just a guy. One she didn’t particularly care for. Well, one she didn’t agree with on just about everything. She was actually growing kind of fond of the crazy man.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They were only in the club about two minutes before she realized what a mistake this might have been. She’d seen salsa dancing before. On Dancing with the Stars. It had looked cool. Fun. Sexy, yeah, but in an artful way. A way that took on a whole new meaning when Chris wrapped a hand around her waist and dragged her to him, plastering their bodies together with one hand pressed against the small of her back and the other holding her hand above their heads.

  Whooo boy. There was a good possibility she was about to have a stroke and they hadn’t even started dancing yet.

  “I don’t know how to salsa dance,” she said, leaning closer so he could hear her over the music and roar of the dancers.

  He smiled down at her, sending her stomach into another tailspin.

  “There’s nothing to it. Just follow my lead and let your body move with the music.”

  Oh, sure. People who knew what they were doing always made it sound like it was so easy.

  She glanced at the people around them. Every one of them moved like they’d been professional dancers their whole lives. There was no way she could move like that.

  Before she could back out, Chris gripped her tighter and then bent her over his arm in a quick dip. Her hair whipped forward when he brought her back up and she tossed it back, unconsciously moving with the music.

  Chris smiled and took a step to the side, then back, then to the other side. She followed. His hips pressed against hers, which technically helped her know where to move but for the most part just made her heart race and body burn. The more they moved, though, the more the music and some rhythm she hadn’t known she’d possessed took over. She hadn’t realized what a sexy instrument the trumpet was until now.

  The beat of the congas thrummed through her, and her hips started moving in time with his without much effort on her part.

  The end of the first song blended into the second, then the third, and fourth, and still they clung to each other on the dance floor. Twisting. Turning. Dipping. Spinning. Swaying together like they were born to move as one.

  She had no idea what she looked like, something that would have consumed her thoughts under normal circumstances. Right then, she didn’t care. She’d never had so much fun in her life. She never wanted the night to end. Send the cameras, she was ready for her solo. She had no idea if she was doing the moves right or not. But it felt right. Felt good. She shook her hips, stomped her feet, ran her hands down her body, like she had all the confidence in the world. And for once, she did.

  Chris’s gaze burned into hers whenever their eyes met. The rest of the time, they roved over her like he had never seen anything so amazing. Whether it was the atmosphere or just some act he was putting on, she couldn’t help but believe he meant it. That look in his eyes sent a wave of emotion through her that almost knocked her to her knees. She was somehow renewed, reborn. At that moment, she was the most confident woman in the world. The sexiest. A woman who knew what she wanted and would take it and be damned to anyone in her way.

  It was exhilarating. Invigorating. Intoxicating.

  And she never wanted it to end. For a brief, crazy moment, she believed it never would.

  But that was so not how her life worked out.

  …

  Chris was mesmerized. He didn’t know what had come over her, but he liked it and wanted it to keep going.

  He grabbed her hand and spun her
, sending her tassels and hair flying. She laughed and leaned into him, letting her hands run over both of them. Good God, what had he unleashed? And how could he keep it that way?

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and bent her over in a deep dip.

  And then froze.

  Something cracked, and they both heard it. Her eyes flew open, and a strangled gasp squeaked from her throat.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, leaning down to talk in her ear.

  “I…uh…I don’t think so. My back…something definitely cracked or pulled or something.”

  “Can you stand?”

  She hesitated, her breathing shallow. “Maybe. Go slow.”

  He nodded and gently helped her upright. “How’s that?”

  She didn’t answer for a second, her eyes unfocused like she was trying to listen to whatever clues her body was sending. “Better. I think.”

  “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  She nodded but added, “Slowly.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her close to his side to give her as much gentle support as he could. He’d pick her up and carry her out except he thought it might hurt her worse. The best he could do was usher her out as fast as possible and make sure their path was clear so she didn’t get jostled.

  He got her to the car quickly and deposited her as carefully as he could. And for once in his life, he drove the speed limit, avoided all the potholes, and was generally a model driver.

  When they got to the house, he helped her out and into the house. Where they both stood in the middle of the room like helpless kittens.

  “What would help? Ice? Heat?” Chris had never felt so powerless in his life. He’d just wanted to take her out for a good time and instead he broke her.

  “I don’t know. It’s never done this before. Heat, I think.”

  “Heat. Okay. I don’t know if there’s a heating pad here. My mom used to warm a sock full of rice in the microwave. I’m sure there’s rice around here somewhere. I just need a sock…Oh! The hot tub. It’s nice and hot, and it would take all the pressure off your back.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yeah. That sounds good. Only…”

  “Only what?”

  “I don’t think I can bend enough to put a suit on.”

  Oh. Good point. “Just get in like that?”

  “In my clothes?”

  “Well, you can take them off if you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

  He flashed her his most charming grin, and she snorted. “I think I’ll keep them on, thanks.”

  He’d been kidding, mostly, but it did accomplish one thing—it had brought her smile back. He helped her hobble out to the back patio.

  “Actually,” she said, “I’m going to lose the skirt.”

  He froze.

  Keep cool. Do not stare. Do not react. She’s hurt. She doesn’t need you drooling over her like some overly hormonal teenager. Keep. It. Together.

  He stood by, afraid to move a muscle, while she reached down and untied the knot holding her skirt together. She let it drop in a puddle at her feet. He swallowed hard and then let himself look. All the tension immediately released from his body, and he laughed with more than a little relief. The small workout shorts she’d been wearing under the skirt still left little to the imagination, but they covered her to mid-thigh and were very utilitarian. Nothing like the lacy panties he’d been imagining her wearing. Not that he’d been imagining her in her underwear. Okay, maybe just once. Or twice.

  She stood watching him, half a smile on her lips. “Scare you for a second there?”

  “A little.”

  She laughed and then winced as the movement pulled at her back. That spurred him into action. He stripped to his boxer briefs and then wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her up the steps and into the tub as gently as he could. She sank beneath the water with a wince, leaning back with a relieved sigh when she was up to her shoulders.

  He sat across from her and watched her anxiously. “Better?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, closing her eyes and tilting her head back to rest on the rim of the tub.

  She sat that way for a few moments and then shifted a few inches to the side, positioning her back in front of one of the jets.

  She let out a low moan that echoed through his body and made him very glad the water was too churned up by the jets to allow any visibility of what was going on beneath the surface. Getting in with her had probably been a very poor decision on his part.

  They sat silently for several minutes; she let the heat soak into her back while he pretended he wasn’t remotely affected by the view in front of him.

  Her legs kept bobbing up to the surface and finally floated close enough that they brushed against him. He wrapped a hand around her ankle, and her eyes flew open. But she made no move to pull her foot from his grasp. He began to massage her feet, and she sighed, tilting her head back and letting her eyes close again. That tiny reaction had his body screaming to do so much more.

  “I know I should make you stop,” she said. “But honestly, it’s been a long day and my body is sore, so I’m just going to sit here and pretend this isn’t wildly inappropriate.”

  He laughed. “How’s that working for you?”

  She sighed again. “Great so far.”

  “Well, in that case…turn around.”

  She cracked an eye open at that. “Excuse me?”

  He moved over to her side of the hot tub. “Turn around.”

  Both eyes now looked at him with suspicion.

  “Oh, relax.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her away from him. “Here, put your knees on the seat and lean your arms over the edge,” he said, positioning her limbs the way he wanted them.

  She did as he asked but kept looking at him over her shoulder. “I’m not sure what you have in mind, but I feel the need to warn you that my imagination only stretches so far. A foot rub I can pretend is totally harmless but…”

  He laughed again. “I’m going to massage your back. I promise, I have nothing but good intentions.”

  Intentions, yes. Thoughts, no. Especially when he began massaging his fingers into her back and she rested her head on her arms and arched into him with a soft moan.

  He had to close his eyes for a second to shut out the tantalizing sight of her on her knees, poised and ready for him.

  Ready for a back rub, dude. Just a back rub. Cool your jets.

  Easier said than done, however, as he worked his way down to the small of her back. His thumbs dug into the muscle on either side of her spine, and she tensed up, her breath hissing through her teeth.

  “Need me to stop?” he asked, not wanting to hurt her.

  “No. Keep going. That’s where it hurts the most. The massage is helping, I think. Do you mind if I take the shirt off? It’s bunched up around my waist. I think you’ll be able to get my muscles better without it.”

  “Sure,” he said, proud his voice didn’t end on a squeak.

  The shirt was bunched up and taking it off would allow him better access to her back. The fact that it would reveal more of her silky, smooth skin was a perk he would do his best to ignore.

  It took her a few moments to work the wet knot holding the shirt together, and when she finally stripped off the saturated garment, he laughed.

  “Were you afraid your entire outfit would disintegrate?” he said, touching the back of the white, form-fitting, midriff-baring tank top she wore.

  “Yes, yes I was,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder. “I figured I’d better be prepared for anything.”

  He chuckled again and returned to work on her back. Between the top and the shorts, she was more covered than a lot of women at the gym he went to—although those women weren’t kneeling in front of him begging him for a massage. Covered or no, the woman before him was an absolute goddess, and he prayed his control was strong enough to give her the massage she needed without having to bail for the safety of a cold shower.

  S
he arched under his hands again, her rounded ass almost pushing against him as a breathy little moan escaped her lips. And he was a goner. He needed to stop this, but he kept working his thumbs into the muscles near her spine, his hands squeezing her waist. It took everything he had not to pull her back against him and sink himself balls deep. He ached for her, the burning need growing into a physical pain that only she could soothe.

  She gasped under him, pushing up against his hands as he massaged her. His own breath rasped in and out of his lungs, harder than when he’d run from the bulls. He’d barely touched her, and he was on the verge of coming so hard he’d see stars.

  He couldn’t let this continue. Had to get out of there before he lost what little control he had left. With a ragged sigh, he let go of her. Or tried to. But the moment his grip loosened, Charley grabbed his hands and put them back on her waist, straightening so her back was nearly touching his chest. Then she looked at him over her shoulder, and the raw, burning need in her eyes hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

  She dragged his captive hands up her torso until they covered her breasts, and his fingers closed around them, softly kneading. A raw, lust-filled growl rumbled from his throat, and she sucked in a breath. And then arched into his hands.

  Her eyes almost fluttered closed, but she fought to keep her gaze locked with his. Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp, her fingers intertwining with his as they rolled over her tight nipples. Then she rocked back against him, rubbing his hard, aching length against her. “Chris,” she whispered.

  And he was lost.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charley knew she was playing with fire.

  There were a million reasons she should jump out of that hot tub and into a cold shower, far away from Chris. Nothing good could come of this. Well…she sucked in another breath as his hands roved a little lower. There was a lot of good that could come of this. But the risks…

  His hand trailed up her body until he cupped her face and turned her head enough he could capture her lips. There was nothing soft or careful about the kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, stealing her breath and sending heat racing straight to her core. She wrapped her arm around his neck as best she could and tangled her hands in his hair, keeping him captive while he plundered her mouth.