The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride

by Nadia Lee

  And most definitely not think about her mouth and what it can do with my dick.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Declan

  Yuna shows up by the time I’m done scrambling my egg whites. Nobody can miss the tok tok of her wedge-heel sandals. And she’s in a flaming red dress that reminds me—uncomfortably—of how hot she looked in my porno dream.

  I lay out a bagel and some cream cheese, plus a bowl of cut fruit for her. Then, to make sure I don’t do or say anything impulsive out of a coffee-deprived state, I start sipping my first cup.

  She takes a bite of a bright red strawberry and smiles. “Mmm. You feed me the tastiest things.”

  Agh. Coffee shoots up my nostrils. It’s surprisingly painful. I cough a few times.

  And my dick is instantly hard.

  “Are you okay?” Yuna gets up and runs a napkin down my shirt.

  I look down and see a few brown spots on the gray fabric. Shit. Thankfully the shirt’s pulled out, so it’s hiding my erection. But her touch, even through the clothing, isn’t helping to settle things down.

  “I’m fine. Thanks,” I say, then push her hands away—gently, though, so it doesn’t look like I’m rejecting her help. “Lemme, ah, just get a new shirt on. You go ahead and finish your breakfast.”

  I walk up the stairs. Once I’m in my own bedroom, I exhale and try to bring myself back under control. It’s easier here, away from her, but still requires effort because I know she’s downstairs waiting. I think about baseball scores, brussels sprouts, a bad haircut I once got. Finally things go back to normal.

  By the time I’ve changed shirts and gone back to the kitchen, Yuna’s done. I shovel my food down and drink my lukewarm coffee. Lukewarm caffeine is still better than none.

  “So. You want to practice the waltz some more?” Yuna looks at me over the rim of her mug.

  Yes, yes, let’s get close.

  Jesus. Yuna resurrected my libido in less than ten minutes.

  I force a smile. “Actually, I think I need to do some reading.”

  “Reading?”

  “For the movie. I’m meeting the director on Friday.”

  “Oh, okay. Want me to read the other part?”

  I want to say no to put some distance between us, but Yuna’s looking at me with her eyes wide and sparkling. And I can’t.

  “Sure. That’d be great.”

  She smiles, and her eyes curve into upside-down crescents. “Awesome.”

  We sit in the living room. She takes an armchair near the couch I’m sitting on. I’ve already studied the script and the male lead’s part. It shouldn’t be difficult, but I can’t seem to focus.

  My gaze flicks to her face constantly, to the way her mouth moves as she reads her part, the way her lips form the words. It keeps reminding me of my dream.

  Aaaand I’m hard again.

  All this, of course, means I can’t really concentrate on what I’m saying, although I think I do okay from the way she reacts. But I miss my cue twice.

  Then a third time. She frowns and puts the script down. “I think you need a lot of work if you’re going to meet the director on Friday. Unless he just doesn’t care how you do because he’s already decided you’re going to be it.”

  “Eh, I just need some practice.” I don’t, really—but if I tell her the truth, she’ll fire me as her boss.

  Why couldn’t she be just a little bit like Jessica? Not the clingy and annoying part, but the I want you, Declan part.

  “Well, we’ve got all day,” Yuna says easily.

  And her patience is making me feel worse about my inability to concentrate. It’s disconcerting and embarrassing. I’m not an irresponsible guy. Especially not about a possible role, or anything to do with my career, for that matter.

  But no matter how hard I try, the rest of the day is the same kind of torture. I blame my perverted subconscious for the dream, which my brain can’t seem to forget about and constantly goes back to, like a hungry child returning to a pantry for more biscuits.

  Around five o’clock, I give up trying to be productive. I have Yuna sort through the dry cleaning that just got dropped off, and check messages and emails on my laptop at the kitchen counter.

  Once she’s gone upstairs, the blood in my body starts flowing freely again, bringing oxygen and clarity to my previously lust-fogged head.

  There’s a message from Tim asking me not to forget to bring Yuna on Friday. He also wants to know if she’s certain about not acting.

  Very, very sure, I reply. She’s rich, so the fortune aspect of Hollywood probably doesn’t hold any appeal for her. Besides, she should consider being a concert pianist before becoming an actress. Imagine the kind of happiness she could bring people with that.

  As I scroll through my inbox, a new email from the seeing eye dog retirement center pops up. It isn’t the usual monthly update, but the center sometimes sends an email when they get a new dog or something. The center always attaches a few dog pictures that never fail to spark joy in my heart, and I’m sure they will for Yuna, too.

  A few minutes later, she comes down from my bedroom. “Hey, wanna see something?” I ask.

  “What?” She takes a stool next to me and leans close. Every cell in my body comes to attention.

  “Something that’s going to make you squeal with joy,” I say smoothly. Damn, I’m a good actor. I should get an Oscar for the proper, not-turned-on boss I’m playing here.

  I click on the email and scroll past the Japanese text. Sure enough, there are tons of pictures of golden retrievers. They’re all old now, but the doggy smiles are still cute. Their dark eyes are sparkling in the photos, and it’s obvious they’re happy and cared for.

  It makes my heart warm that my money’s doing something good for dogs who deserve love and comfort in their golden years.

  “Wow. They’re adorable!” Yuna says, leaning closer until her hair is tickling my bare arm. Testosterone is pumping through me with a vengeance. “Are they yours?”

  “Not really. I’m sponsoring a retirement center for seeing eye dogs in Japan.”

  She turns to me. “You speak Japanese?”

  “Other than a few words to order sushi and sake, no.”

  She pats my hand, like she’s trying to communicate, It’s fine.

  My skin burns, but with a good tingle. I clear my throat. “I went over with a translator to set it up.”

  “That’s unusual, going all the way to another country to do something like this. Most people donate closer to home.”

  “Yes, but I had an unusual experience.” Then I tell her how it all started—with the documentary I saw on a flight.

  Thankfully, she moves back slightly as I speak, but it doesn’t help much. She’s still too close. My heart is pounding too hard and I feel like I’m overheating. Or maybe the A/C is malfunctioning. But I don’t move to check it, because one hundred percent of her attention is on me, and I’m loath to give that up.

  Her gaze softens with something I can’t put my finger on. She glances at the email. “Want me to translate?”

  “I thought you were Korean?”

  “Yes, but I speak several languages. Don’t you remember my résumé?” she teases.

  “It probably escaped my notice.” Mainly because I’ve never needed to hire a translator, except that one time I went to Japan. When a foreign company wants me to film commercials for them, they usually provide someone.

  “Let me see.” She scrolls back up. “Okay, so the first two paragraphs are just greetings…”

  “Really?” The opening paragraphs are at least three lines long each. “That’s a lot of greeting.”

  “Welcome to Japan. Although we often do something similar in Korea, too. Anyway, um… They’re saying that the dogs are doing well… They have a new pooch in the center… His name is Sam-kun.”

  “Samkun, huh?” I realize I must’ve missed a lot of information about each dog in those updates. Knowing more about the new dog makes him feel that muc
h more special, and the cause seems even worthier. “Nice. Is that a common Japanese name?”

  She pauses, then smiles. “If you don’t already know, kun is what Japanese people add to a boy’s name or a pet’s name.” She thinks for a moment. “Well, a male pet, anyway. It’s like a show of affection. But in English, you’d just call the dog Sam, which is obviously not a Japanese name.”

  “I had no idea.”

  She winks. “I’m good at expanding people’s horizons. Stick around and you’ll learn a lot more.”

  The odd sensation starts in my heart again, one I never felt until I met Yuna. The one that makes my heart beat funny…and makes me want to rub a hand over it like there’s something ticklish underneath the ribcage.

  She stares at me, like she can sense what’s happening. Is she aware of how much I want her, the crazy connection I’ve been feeling since the moment I heard her play at the airport? And…does she feel anything like it for me? She shifts a little, and her gaze seems to darken as her long lashes lower briefly. Her throat moves.

  The scent of her seems to be growing stronger. It’s driving me crazy. My brain says there are a billion reasons why it’s a bad idea to act impulsively. My instinct says there are a billion reasons why my brain’s wrong regarding Yuna.

  I lean forward until we’re close enough that our breath mingles. Yuna closes the last of the distance.

  I cradle her gorgeous face in my palms and plunder her mouth. Her lips are so much softer than I imagined. They part in welcome, letting me in. Her taste is sweet and heady, and my head spins. She isn’t shy as she strokes me with her tongue. Mine glides along hers, and I groan. Heat strikes through me like lightning, leaving my blood boiling.

  It’s far, far better than any of my dreams. I don’t ever want to stop.

  A soft sigh catches in her throat. Her fingers run through my hair, sending electric tingles all over my scalp. She clenches her hand, just tight enough to let me know she’s got me.

  Lust expands until my skin feels too tight and hot. I drag her over until she’s straddling my thighs. She feels surprisingly soft and small in my arms. I put a hand on her back and pull her closer. Her breasts crush against my chest, the warm flesh between her legs cradling my rigid cock, making my entire body tense with lust. She shifts her thighs and lets out a soft moan.

  I can’t remember why I ever thought it was a bad idea to get entangled with an assistant.

  Something thuds. The sound isn’t loud, but it’s enough to jar Yuna out of the kiss. I glance down at the source of the interruption. One of her wedge shoes lies capsized on the floor.

  The intimate moment cracks as our lips pull apart, and I don’t want it to shatter completely. Trying to re-create the magic, I tilt her chin to capture her mouth again, but she pulls back. Her gaze drops to our crotches, where we’re still pressed tightly. Red suffuses her cheeks.

  “Um… I should get going now.” She scrambles off my lap and slips her foot into the shoe.

  “You should…what?” Women don’t flee after I kiss them. What the hell is going on?

  But Yuna’s moving like she’s rushing through a rapid piano piece. She grabs her bag. “I just remembered I have an appointment.”

  “What?” I ask again, struggling to process. My brain isn’t getting much blood at the moment. I still don’t understand why she’s leaving instead of returning to the kiss. Or we could escalate to something more intense if she wants. I’m flexible.

  “Something I can’t miss. See you tomorrow!”

  Then, faster than a lightning bolt, she rushes out of the house. By the time I think to go after her, she’s halfway down the driveway. I cringe at the way she runs because her heels are high…and isn’t she going to twist an ankle at that speed? But somehow she seems steady, like she’s in a pair of Nikes or something.

  “Let me give you a ride!” I yell, running after her. That’ll at least give us a chance to talk about things, although I’m not exactly sure what or how I’m going to talk about it with her. I have zero experience with this kind of situation. This woman is running away.

  “No!” she says without looking back. “I already called Lyft! Don’t worry—I’ll expense it.” Now she’s going even faster. She’s definitely going to sprain something at this rate.

  “Slow down! I’m not chasing you!”

  I shove my fingers into my hair as I watch her ease off her sprint.

  Not chasing you, my ass.

  I might not be going after her right this minute, but there’s no way I’m giving up. I’m an idiot who just took a bite out of the damned forbidden apple.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Yuna

  I don’t know how I’m walking so steadily toward Ivy and Tony’s mansion. Although I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol, I feel buzzed. My face and neck are too warm. Every so often, tingling sensations start from my crotch and streak outward, leaving my fingers and toes prickling.

  Actually, I take that back. It is not just every so often. It’s every time I think about what happened between me and Declan at his house.

  That kiss…

  I put a hand over my still-throbbing mouth. What was I thinking when I kissed him? Such a stupid impulse! Argh. His lips looked so enticing, and I only wanted a taste.

  Until it became more.

  It’s some mad skill that a man can kiss you like you’re a fragile glass figurine, but also make it feel like super-dirty sex. The contrast was crazy hot, and I got lost in the moment.

  I look down. Thank God my shoe fell off and interrupted things before we went too far.

  Although… I wouldn’t have minded a longer kiss.

  Oh, stop it! I tell myself as I walk into the brightly lit foyer. I ran like an idiot, and now what? I still don’t know why that was my first reaction when a sliver of logic entered my mind. But it was such an instinctive and natural response, like a rabbit dashing away from a fox.

  Not that Declan is a predator. It’s just that…I behaved in a way that’s not normal. I don’t run. I face life. And Google things to throw at life when it’s not going the way I want.

  My phone pings. A new text. My stomach does a weird backflip—and doesn’t land quite right. But it isn’t Declan.

  Okay. My belly’s back to normal.

  –Ivy: Wanna join me in the piano room when you get home? I’m bored and feeling blah, especially with Tony being out.

  –Me: Of course!

  I rush toward the room. With Tony away, it’s the perfect time to talk to Ivy about the kiss. If Declan says the NDA covers the kiss, I’m going to tell him to kiss my ass and talk to a lawyer. It’s gotta be illegal to not let a woman talk about a hot kiss with her friends. No female juror would ever find me guilty.

  Ivy’s lying on a couch by her Bösendorfer Imperial concert grand piano, her phone on her chest, since her belly’s so big and rounded now. Her legs are dangling over the arm of the couch. Her feet are bare, her ankles swollen so badly I actually wince.

  “Hey, girlfriend. Where’s Tony?” I ask. He should be here to rub her feet, even though that would mess up the girl talk.

  “He’s at Z looking over some things. I told him he should go take care of his club before I pop the twins out, because I’m really going to need him then.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Thank you. He disagreed,” Ivy says with a small pout.

  I frown ferociously. “Doesn’t he know that all husbands must agree with their pregnant wives?”

  “He missed the memo. But he probably doesn’t care that much. He knows he’s safe.” Ivy shifts and adjusts herself, so she can look at me better in comfort. “So. What’s up with your mouth?”

  “What?” Feeling like a kid who got caught with donut jelly smeared all over her face, I put a hand over it, like that’s going to make Ivy forget what she saw.

  Her eyes sparkle with a speculative gleam. “It looks slightly swollen. And you have a little mark on your bottom lip.”

  Crap. Di
d Declan do that? My face is so hot. Like somebody doused it with lighter fluid and lit a match. But the rest of my body’s growing hot for reasons other than embarrassment. It’s the memory of the kiss. The way Declan’s gray eyes darkened, the way his mouth felt on mine. He has the kind of mouth that can make you forget everything.

  “Are you dating someone behind my back?” Ivy asks, peering at me. “Trying to get a husband, so your family can’t ask you to marry one of the men they picked out?”

  “Dating behind your back? Ha. How could I? You know I’ll spill everything the second I meet my destiny.”

  She laughs. “That’s true. But I notice you aren’t denying the dating thing.”

  “I’m not dating. I am really busy with work and stuff. It’s just…” I lean closer and lower my voice, even though we’re alone in the room. Ivy and I haven’t had this kind of talk in… Well, since our Curtis years. “I kissed Declan.”

  Ivy inhales, her eyes widening. “Tell me everything! How did it happen? Was it good? Are you going to do it again?”

  I laugh a little. “Slow down if you want answers.”

  “I am all ears.” She makes a show of pressing her lips together and gives me a comically attentive look.

  “Okay, so… We were just doing work stuff, you know, and he showed me some pictures of dogs.”

  “That’s…really…” She frowns. “I mean, dogs? I thought you’d give him more of a challenge.”

  I roll my eyes. “Please. You should know me better than that! I’m giving you a pass because you’re pregnant and probably just tired. Anyway, it’s not what you’re thinking. He sponsors a retirement center for seeing eye dogs that are too old to be in service anymore. So the center sends him updates and pictures. One happened to arrive today, and he showed it to me.”

  “Aww…” Ivy sighs. “That’s super sweet. Sponsoring the dogs, I mean.”

  “I know, right? It’s obvious he adores them. You can see it in his eyes.” And his demeanor. My heart feels like it’s full of gooey goodness.

  There are men who brag about every good thing they do. Some guys even act like they should be praised for stuff like not hitting women. But not Declan. And it isn’t as if he hasn’t had a chance to let me know. He could’ve brought it up anytime.