An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

by Diane Alberts

  No expectations. No attachments. No disappointment.

  Just fun.

  “Well, then, let’s see if you’re right.”

  Still holding her hand, he led her into the building. His grip was loose, allowing her to pull away easily if she chose to. As he walked toward an elevator, he pulled a swipe card out of his pocket with his free hand. The elevator doors opened, so he led her inside, swiped his card, and hit the thirty-fourth-floor button. She snorted to herself because a miracle was about to occur on the thirty-fourth floor. For the first time in a year…

  Sam was going to get laid.

  She should’ve shaved her legs.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Nothing, I just—” She broke off as the doors opened.

  She’d expected a hallway, but the elevator doors opened right into his apartment.

  Of course, he owns the whole frigging floor.

  He tugged her inside his home, flicking the lights on. It was more of an understated opulence than an in-your-face kind.

  Surprise. Surprise.

  The floors were dark rustic wood in varying shades. The furniture was also dark, and the couches in front of a gas fireplace were leather—probably as soft as the leather seats in his car. The wall with the fireplace was covered in light brick, again in varying shades, and long lights on wires hung from the high, open ceiling above, illuminating the apartment with a soft, relaxing glow. Rubbing her arms, she approached the full-length windows that faced the Willis Tower. In the distance, the lights on the Lake Shore Drive Bridge flickered as cars sped over it.

  Annnd here she was. In a penthouse for the first time in years. “Wow.”

  “It’s what made me buy the place,” Taylor said from behind her.

  He stood just far away so that he wasn’t crowding her, and he’d been doing that all night. It was part of what made her so comfortable around him. She trusted him, which was ridiculous, really, considering they’d just met. There was an undeniable attraction that pulled her closer to him.

  Did he sense it, too?

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “I know,” he murmured.

  She turned and found him watching her. Her stomach knotted, and her breath hitched in her throat. It took everything she had not to glance down to see if she were on fire, as she burned so very hot for him. Nervously, she laughed and pressed her back against the cool glass of the window. It did nothing to save her from the flames he shot her way without even trying.

  “So…” she started awkwardly.

  He quirked a brow. “Yes?”

  She was out of practice with one-night stands and had forgotten how to smoothly transition from the sexual tension to the actual sex part. Not to mention, she smelled kind of gross after working hard all day. Sliding her gaze to the side, her attention fell to the fireplace, and she latched on to it gratefully as a safe topic.

  “I’m disappointed,” she said, her voice cracking.

  Out of the corner of her eye, his brow inched higher. “Why?”

  She tipped her head to the left, pressing more firmly against the glass window. “No fur rug or clap-on lights.”

  He let out a soft laugh, running his hand through his hair. “They’re not really my style.”

  “What is?”

  He dropped his hands to her shoulders. “Understated lavishness.”

  Resting her hands on his chest, she nibbled on her lower lip, torn between wanting to be clean and fresh for him and the desire to move things forward toward her end goal—being naked and quivering with pleasure in his bed before hitting the road and forgetting all about him.

  As if she would ever forget spending a night in Taylor’s arms.

  His hands gripped her waist…

  He lowered his head toward hers…

  His mouth moved until it was a mere breath away…

  “I have a weird question,” she blurted out seconds before his mouth collided with hers.

  He froze, his fingers flexing. “Yes?”

  “I…” She swallowed hard, knowing if she rose on tiptoe, their lips would be touching. “Can I…uh…shower?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You want to use my shower on our first date?”

  “Yes.” Hesitantly, she fisted his shirt. “And maybe…?”

  He was hard. Hot. Sexy.

  “Yes?” he murmured.

  “Maybe you could shower, too?” Before she lost the nerve. “At the same time?”

  His body tensed against hers. “Are you insinuating I smell?”

  “I fail to see how you couldn’t.”

  He half snorted, half laughed, and stepped back from her. “You have a point. As far as your request goes, yes, I have two showers, so that could be arranged.”

  “Great, that would be great,” she said, cheeks hot because that hadn’t been what she meant at all.

  “Yeah…great.”

  They locked eyes.

  Silence fell.

  “Follow me,” he said, pushing off the glass and fully removing his body from hers. “The guest bathroom is this way.”

  “Th-Thanks.”

  As soon as his heat left her, she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. He led her into a bathroom that was larger than her apartment. As they passed a closet, he opened the door, removed a red towel, and held it out with a raised eyebrow. “Red okay?”

  She took it, her fingers brushing his. Just that short skin contact sent a shiver through her entire body. “I love red.”

  “Me, too,” he said, offering her a smile. He opened the shower door and gestured to the knob on the wall. The entire shower was encased in glass, and the tiles on the wall and floor were a deep gray color. “Left is hot, right is cold, the middle is lukewarm. Take as long as you’d like. I’ll go wash up in the master bedroom. There’s a robe hanging on the door, feel free to use it, and we could wash your clothing.”

  She swallowed. “How many women have worn that robe?”

  “One.”

  She hesitated, hugging the towel to her chest. “Someone special?”

  “You could say that.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  He left, shutting the door behind him quietly. She stared at that closed door for far too long before undressing and getting in the shower. After she finished, she wrapped herself in the robe he’d mentioned, walked back out into the living room, and searched for Taylor.

  He was nowhere to be found.

  Still showering, she supposed.

  Walking up to the window again, she took a second to admire the view. If only she were brave enough to go into the other bathroom, drop her robe, and climb into the shower with him. But what if he didn’t want her to? What if he wasn’t interested in her?

  He almost kissed you earlier, her inner voice said. But you just had to shower, didn’t you?

  “I smelled,” she whispered.

  “What?” he asked from behind her.

  She jumped, holding a hand to her racing heart, and backed up against the window. “You scared me. I thought you were showering.”

  “Sorry, I was already finished and was in the kitchen getting this,” he said, his lips quirking up as he held out a glass filled with bubbling champagne. “Care for a drink?”

  She took the offering and lifted it to her mouth.

  He did the same.

  “You’re good,” she said, licking the excess off her lips.

  He cocked a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got this whole thing down,” she said, gesturing between them. He, too, wore a robe, and…presumably…like her, was naked underneath. “The seduction thing.”

  His lips quirked into a half smile as he closed the distance between them, stopping when their toes touched. “You think?”

  “Oh yeah.” She nodded.

  “If you think I’m that smooth, what comes next?”

  “Well, if I were to guess, I’d say after you offer a girl a drin
k or two, you’d usually get her on that couch and slowly inch toward her, making sure not to move too fast because a guy like you always makes sure to take your time and ensure your advances are welcome…”

  “Am I right in guessing there’s a but in there somewhere…?” he asked, his gaze dipping to her mouth.

  “Yes.” She smiled and downed her drink, setting it on the nearby table. “But…might I suggest a deviation from habit?”

  He finished his beverage and discarded the glass, stepping back slightly, giving her more breathing room—something she didn’t want.

  “Of course. I was already thinking we should take it sl—” He broke off when she caught his robe, halting his retreat.

  “I don’t want slow. I don’t want caution.”

  I’m throwing away sensible and going for it.

  He flexed his jaw, his eyes narrowed. He studied her like the lions on the Discovery Channel did a wildebeest. He had her in his sights, and any second now, he might pounce. “What do you want?”

  “You.” She curled her fists on his robe, not letting go. “I’d like to skip all of your normal steps and just get to the part where you make me scream your name out loud, against this window, and I’d like to do it now, please.”

  He stared at her, his jaw ticking, his breathing unsteady.

  But he didn’t move.

  Had she read him wrong?

  “That is, of course, unless you don’t want that.” She laughed, letting him go. “Oh God, you don’t, and I totally just threw myself at you, and you were just being nice and fulfilling your obligations, and I totally crossed the line just now, and I’m so frigging sorry. I’ll just go now and die dramatically—”

  His mouth closed over hers, effectively shutting her up and sending her into the stars because he tasted like the forbidden and champagne.

  Yes, please.

  Chapter Eight

  This was a dangerous game he played.

  He wanted tonight to be different than the others. Sam was special, one of a kind, and she deserved more than the usual seduction games he usually played. Somewhere between dinner and his place, he’d decided that he wanted to break his rules and spend more than one night with her. This needed to be a take-it-slow, long-conversations-by-the-fire, get-to-know-you type of encounter, and the best way to ensure that happened was to keep his damn hands to himself…

  Yet here he was. Kissing her.

  In his defense, she had all but demanded it, and what was he supposed to do? Let her keep panicking and watch her run off? Never to see her again?

  He wasn’t taking that chance. Taylor was a planner, not a risk-taker. As such, he’d come up with the perfect solution to their little problem. Neither of them wanted a second date, so he had come up with a way to avoid having one of those, while still getting to spend time with her: this date simply wouldn’t end.

  She couldn’t go home.

  He hadn’t yet figured out how to propose the idea without sounding as if he was trying to kidnap her…but he’d get there eventually. While she’d been in the restroom at the restaurant, he’d made a few discreet phone calls and worked out a defense for every reason he could think of that she might come up with to argue that she couldn’t stay.

  Clothing. Food. Transportation. It was all covered except one thing:

  She might not want to stay.

  The only way to avoid that inescapable argument was to give her a reason to stick around. She wanted a screaming orgasm against his window? Fine. He’d give her one, but he refused to get one for himself. Refused to put her in the category she wanted to go in. He’d put her in a new one, and it had strict rules. He could give, but he couldn’t take.

  Not tonight.

  If she wanted him to fuck her, she’d have to wait until tomorrow.

  She’d have to agree to stay.

  He deepened the kiss, his tongue finding hers. A soft moan escaped her, and he silenced it with his mouth, his hands exploring every inch of her body. The softness of her waist, the hard lines of her ribs, the seductive swell of her breasts… Never had he been so turned on by a woman during a simple kiss. He inched closer to her breast, only cupping her fully when she pressed against him, breathing raggedly. He closed his palm over her, letting her fill his hand as he scraped his nail over her nipple, dragging it slowly.

  A gasp escaped her, and she arched against him eagerly. That small sound, that desire in her movements, hardened his already engorged cock, demanding he press against her and relieve the pressure. Breaking the kiss off and gritting his teeth, he kissed a path down her neck, ignoring the demands of his body.

  This had to be done right.

  No taking. Only giving.

  He traced a path down her back, over the curve of her hip, and gripped her ass, groaning at how tight she was. Everything about her was specifically designed to make him lose control—something he never did. Not in life. Not at work.

  Not in bed.

  Relishing her soft body, he slid a hand between them, pressing his fingers against her—but keeping the protective fabric of the robe between them. She appeared to be naked underneath it, while he had on boxers and a pair of pajama pants.

  Moaning, she writhed against him as he bit down on her neck gently. His hand moved in wide circles, teasing her. Even if she walked away after this and he never saw her again, as long as she remembered the way he kissed her and made her come…that was enough for him. His strokes quickened as he gently twisted her nipple, nibbling the sweet skin on her neck.

  Those sexy little sounds escaping her hinted that she was close, so he repositioned himself to get her where she needed to go faster. The urge to press against her, to relieve the need building inside him, was overwhelmingly strong…but this wasn’t about him, so instead he slipped his leg between hers, supporting her as her body tensed and lost control, and melded his mouth to hers.

  As she came apart in his arms, screaming his name, he silently vowed that whatever she wanted from him, whenever she wanted it, he would find a way to give it to her.

  No questions asked.

  She collapsed back against the glass, her breath coming fast, and he allowed his lips to linger for a sweet second before ending the kiss, his arms still supporting her and his knee still between her thighs. Pulling back, he took it all in.

  Her swollen red lips, her pinked cheeks, her mussed hair. She appeared to have been thoroughly fucked, and he barely had a taste. His grip on her shifted up to her lower rib cage.

  He was playing the long game here, and he had to remember that.

  Forcing a grin even though his lack of release hurt, he said, “Would you like to spend the night in my bed?”

  She blinked at him, mouth parted. “Wh-What?”

  “Would you like to sleep here?” he called over his shoulder as he all but ran toward the wet bar. If he stayed too close, too long, he might not be able to behave. “I don’t want this date to end, but I know you don’t believe in second dates, so I figure we should just keep the date going. You should stay here. With me.”

  He sensed her approach but didn’t turn around as he poured himself a scotch.

  “I took the liberty of ordering you some clothing in a variety of styles and sizes, so you won’t have to go home. When we’re done, and you go home, you can keep it all, if you’d like.”

  She stiffened. “Are you trying to…buy me?”

  “What? No.” He set his glass down, his heart pounding because, once again, he’d screwed up with her. It was a miracle that she hadn’t run in the opposite direction by now. “I would never. I just wanted to extend our date, and this is the only solution I can see in order to get another day with you by my side.”

  All signs of anger fled, replaced with something that could only be called reluctance. “Taylor…”

  “I will, of course, sleep in the guest room tonight. You can have my bed all to yourself—it’s more comfortable than the guest bed.”

  She rested her hands on the bar. The physica
l barrier between them was very welcome. Anything that helped him keep his hands to himself was a friend of his. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Snorting, he faced her, trying to play it off like he wasn’t fucking dying right now. He slid a glass of scotch toward her in case she wanted it and lifted his. “Of course not.”

  “Then…?” She hesitated. “Why did you stop?”

  He locked gazes with her while drinking his scotch. It burned going down. He welcomed the distracting pain. “I gave you what you asked for.”

  She hesitated, clearly confused, if her wrinkled brow was any indication. He ached to reach out and smooth it for her but didn’t trust himself touching her just yet. “And if I had asked for sex, would you have given me that?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” He flexed his jaw. “I want you to be different from the rest of the women I bring home. You are different, so I stopped after making you come because I want you to stay with me until we’re both satisfied and not slip me into the ‘one and done’ file you probably have somewhere.”

  “I don’t do second dates,” she said, biting her tongue. “I told you that.”

  “I haven’t either,” he said coolly. “I’m not asking for forever. I’m not that guy. I’m asking to extend our first and only date over the course of a few days, so we can enjoy each other’s company until we decide that it’s over.”

  After taking a long gulp, she set the glass down. “You basically want me to move in with you, sleep in your bed indefinitely, and only wear clothing you picked out for me.”

  He hesitated before nodding. When she said it like that…

  She let out a nervous laugh, pushing her hair back with a trembling hand. “Sounds a bit possessive.”

  Shrugging, he sipped his drink, trying his damnedest to ignore the twinge of pain that nagged at his soul. He’d never tried so hard before. He finished his drink and came around the side of the bar. He approached her, his heart pounding hard and echoing in his ears. “You’re not moving in, Sam. Just spending a couple of nights on a first date with me.”

  She bit down on her plump, pink lip. “I like you. I do. But—”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t add a but.” He caught her hand, pressing it to his heart. It sped up under her touch. “I’m going to let you in on something. You’re my first.”