An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

by Diane Alberts

  Her brow crinkled again. “There’s no way I’m your first one-night stand.”

  “You’re my first non-one-night stand.” Slowly, he ran the backs of his knuckles across her cheekbone, savoring the sensation of her smooth skin. “I don’t mean to scare you, and we just met, but spending time with you is fun. I’d like to continue, if you’re having fun, too, that is. If not, it’s okay. I’ll take you home.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he grazed his fingers along her jaw.

  Her eyes went wide, her breathing unsteady. Desire warred with fear, something he had every intention of wiping away…

  If given the chance.

  His thumb ran down her jaw, and he stepped closer, backing her against the bar. He kept the sides open, leaving her an escape if she so chose, but she fisted his robe and held on tight, swaying toward him. He pressed his body to hers, allowing himself one magical moment of her fitting against him so perfectly. Her eyes widened when he pressed his erection against her belly, splaying his free hand across her lower back.

  “I want you, Sam. And I intend to have you.”

  She let out a soft moan. “You could have me right now.”

  He shook his head stubbornly, caressing her racing pulse. “Not enough. I want more. Stay on our date with me. Stay in my bed, Sam.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking on a half laugh, half moan.

  “Then our time will have to be over,” he breathed, lowering his mouth to her ear, and pressed a gentle kiss to the lobe. “Or…you could stay the night, and maybe tomorrow I can show you just how much you’ll scream with me buried inside your body.”

  She let out a groan, pulling her chin out of his grasp but staying where she was. He let his hand fall to the bar, missing her skin already. “I don’t even know you. This is insane.”

  “We can get to know each other better if you stay.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “Just think of it as a really long first date.” He pushed off the bar, giving her space. She sagged against it slightly, her cheeks rosy. “Tell me something about yourself.”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head. “Not this again.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m not sharing my deep dark secrets with you, Taylor.”

  “Then share the not-so-dark ones.” He poured himself another scotch. “Like…do you cut in line sometimes?”

  Her eyes widened. “What? No.”

  “Do you steal from your office and bring home the good pens?” He smirked. “I do. All the time. Of course, I own the company, so they’re mine anyway, but still. I take them home with me by accident, and my secretary has to order more and complains about people taking them. I never tell her it’s me. I let her wonder and suspect everyone else, because it’s funny.”

  She choked on a laugh. “That’s horrible.”

  “I know,” he admitted, smiling wider as his heart picked up speed for no explicable reason. “Yet, I still do it.”

  Shaking her head, she smiled. That smile?

  It lit up the fucking room.

  “You’re incorrigible,” she said, but the smile softened the words.

  “I know,” he said, shrugging. “And stubborn.”

  Snorting, she nodded. “I see that.”

  “Tell me one of yours now,” he urged, sitting on the chair that faced the fireplace and the bar on an angle. “Anything. Small. Big. Whatever.”

  She stared, and he sensed her retreat before she even took a step. But she surprised him by saying, “I haven’t had sex with a man in a year.”

  “How about a woman?” he immediately asked.

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “What? No.”

  “Just checking. I mean, you did say ‘man,’ so…”

  Crossing her arms, she bit her lip. “I like men. I’ve just been too busy with my stuff to date.”

  “Me, too,” he said. “But we can be busy and naked together for a few days, on our first and only date.”

  She shook her head. “Screw it. Where’s your bedroom?”

  Relief and victory crashed through him, giving him a rush stronger than he’d ever experienced before—even stronger than the time he’d cliff-dived in Colorado. “Down the hall, to the left. There’s an extra toothbrush under the sink of the bathroom you just showered in. Help yourself. Your clothes will be here in the morning.”

  “Whose robe and toothbrush am I using?”

  “Technically, my sister’s, but she’s never actually used the toothbrush, just the robe once.” He paused, frowning at it. “I’m going to have to buy her a new one. She can never wear that robe again or even see it.”

  She played with the ties on the robe. “Definitely.”

  “You can keep it once we’re done,” he added. “It suits you.”

  “I’m basically Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Am I seriously going to do this?”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “But don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while tomorrow.”

  She frowned. “But not tonight.”

  “Not tonight.”

  Shaking her head, she headed for the bedroom. “You’re weird, Taylor Jennings.”

  Grinning, he called out, “You have no idea, Sam Matthews.”

  Chapter Nine

  On a scale of stupid to idiotic, staying overnight at Taylor’s place topped it. Sam’s dreams and goals didn’t include moving into Taylor’s apartment because he’d promised her some pretty amazing sex as a reward. And yet, here she was…

  She’d texted her neighbor, who would feed her cat while she was away, and had let her know she’d gone on a spontaneous trip. She’d left out the part about the trip being to one Taylor Jennings’s delicious body. Lifting her chin, she walked out of his bedroom, shoving aside everything that had kept her up last night. He was nowhere to be seen.

  “Taylor?” she called out.

  Nothing.

  Oh my God, had he left her here?

  “Good morning, or should I say, good afternoon?” an all-too-familiar deep voice said from behind her. Just his voice alone sent a shiver down her spine and made her body ache for more of the pleasure he could give her so frigging easily it almost pissed her off. Almost. Because a girl had to respect on-demand orgasms delivered in such a handsome package. “Sorry, I was tired.”

  “Obviously,” he said with amusement. “I see you found the clothes I ordered.”

  “The obscene amount of clothing you ordered in five different sizes?” Snorting, she faced him…and lost her breath right away.

  How did he do that?

  Steal her thoughts, and breath, and intelligence?

  He wore a black suit, a maroon dress shirt, and a black tie. His green eyes were strikingly intense, and his hard jaw held a hint of a five o’clock shadow she longed to get her hands on. “Well, I wanted to give you options. To be sure you’d find something you’re comfortable in.”

  “Still. You bought too much.”

  He waved a hand.

  She played with a metal sculpture on the table. “Are you going to work or something?”

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  “Your clothes…” She gestured at his suit. “Are you going to work?”

  “Oh, that.” He smoothed his suit, offering her a sheepish smile. “No. I had a meeting this morning, but it’s done. I left a note for you, in case you woke up. I got back five minutes ago.”

  “I see,” she managed to say, admiring how nicely his suit fit him from behind.

  “You hungry?”

  “Starving,” she admitted. Her stomach rumbled loudly as if in agreement.

  “Uh…” He glanced at it. “Clearly.”

  Sam’s cheeks heated. “Shut up.”

  “Tell that to your stomach.”

  She followed him into the kitchen. He smelled as good as she remembered—no, better. “See? You’re annoying me, and I’m already regretting staying. I should’ve gone hom
e last—”

  Without warning, he backed her up against the cabinets, cupping her hips and pressing his body to hers in all the right places…and yet somehow managing to not touch her where she needed him most. “Shhh. None of that, now. If you’re good, I’ll make you very happy you stayed.”

  She gripped his biceps—geez, they were huge, hot, and rock-hard—and the kitchen spun around them at dangerous speeds. “I’m never good.”

  “Neither am I,” he said, smirking.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” The desire in her tone made her voice almost unrecognizable.

  He pushed off the counter, leaving her alone and trembling, just like last night. “Let’s see if we can get some food in that angry belly of yours. What’s your order?”

  “Hmm,” she said distractedly, staring at the window where he’d, well… She headed that way, wanting to put some distance between them.

  He tugged on his tie, loosening it while studying her. He had a way of looking at a girl that made her uneasy, bare, and impossibly turned on—all at once. “I pulled out the local Chinese place’s menu. Unless you’d prefer something else? I just have a habit of Chinese on Sundays.”

  She trailed her hand over the wooden hutch against the wall. It was so smooth against her fingertips, despite its rustic, harsh appearance. More than likely, it was repurposed wood. “What’s Tuesdays?” she teased.

  “Pizza,” he answered immediately.

  She blinked, touching the vase on the hutch. It was old and probably very valuable. “Do you seriously have it all planned out to the day?”

  “It started more as a habit than a plan, but now it’s pretty firmly etched into my life, so I guess, yeah.” He crossed his arms. “You make it seem like that’s a bad thing, having a plan.”

  “What if you want pizza on Monday?”

  He cocked his brow. “Then it tastes even better when I finally get it on Tuesday.”

  She laughed.

  “I told you, I’m a patient man.” He uncrossed his arms and walked back into the kitchen. “I’m perfectly willing to wait for what I want, especially when I know I’m going to get it in a day.”

  She swallowed hard. He’d made them wait a day for sex, and the anticipation was killing her. “Good to know,” she managed to say.

  The apartment was pretty open, so she could still see him despite his retreat—and that’s what she was calling it. Every time he was close to doing something, to making good on his promise to have her, he backed off. The man clearly had a plan, and just as obviously, she wasn’t privy to the details. Had he put a time limit on his satisfactory completion of this first date of theirs? Two days? A week? “Steal any pens at the meeting?”

  Chuckling, he came out with a bunch of menus. “Not this time. Here. Pick whatever you want.”

  Rifling through, she found the Chinese one at the bottom. “I’d hate to deviate from your patterns. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “You can be, with me, if you’d like.” He tucked her hair behind her ear tenderly, the movement intimate. “You can be whatever you want with me.”

  One hand stayed on her hair, the other fell to her waist possessively.

  “I’m not going to fall for you.”

  He touched her neck, teasing her. “I won’t, either.”

  She laughed. “I know.”

  “Why the laugh?” he asked, frowning.

  “Because the idea of you falling for me is funny. If you knew me and my background, you’d see how impossible that was.” If she were to actually get serious with him, there was no way someone in the Chicago society wouldn’t do their research and find out her past.

  There was nothing a jilted society girl loved more than taking down a newcomer—especially one with her background. And she had no doubt that it would come out.

  Her whole sordid past, aired like dirty laundry for all to see.

  “Your past and social identity have nothing to do with my not falling for you,” he said stiffly. “I choose not to fall for anyone because I don’t want to.”

  “No big dreams of love, marriage, and having the stereotypical two-point-five kids?”

  “Marriage is bullshit,” he said.

  She choked on a laugh. “Go on.”

  “It’s nothing more than an overly emotional business contract.” He leaned forward. “Think about it. You meet a bunch of people every day, but then you meet one you like, for some reason or another, and you offer to buy them a drink, or dinner, and you do it again, and again, until you finally merge your name and your bank accounts and split all your bills and save money. It’s all one big transaction, rolled into one.”

  Her jaw dropped. “That’s a bleak description of marriage.”

  “Does it make it any less true?” he asked honestly.

  Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about him falling in love with her.

  That was a relief.

  “Speaking of business transactions, I have a few rules of my own for ours.”

  He cocked a brow, his caress freezing instantly. “Go on.”

  “No ‘society’ events on this date.” She clenched her teeth. “No exceptions.”

  His frown deepened. “All right. May I ask why?”

  She hesitated. Stick to the truth, or evade the question? In her experience, the more she stuck to the truth, the less likely she would be to risk unwanted probing. “It’s not worth the attention I would bring to the table, since I used to be a famous actress and all that.”

  He stared, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he considered her. “You can trust me with more than the bare minimum, but I promise not to push for more than you’re willing to give, and I’m a man of my word.”

  She forced a smile. “Thanks.”

  “Any more clauses?” he asked tightly.

  She thought about it for a second and shook her head. “Should I run this by my lawyer?” she joked, trying to lighten the moment.

  He didn’t seem to get that. “If you’d like, sure. I can have my secretary draft up a document—”

  “Oh my God, no.” She let out a laugh. “I was kidding. It just felt so…formal.”

  “Well, when you think of it, personal relationships are just like business ones. Boundaries are laid. Expectations voiced. Agreements hatched and drafted.” He ran the backs of his knuckles over her cheek, and the breath she’d been taking hitched in her throat. “They’re not so different.”

  “That’s a weird way to look at life.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “So. We have a deal? We’re on a date until we decide otherwise—which, of course, we are both free to do at any given time. We don’t go out to society events together, we won’t fall in love. Did I forget anything?”

  She shook her head. “I think that covers it.”

  “Good.”

  She bit her lip. “Well, now that that’s settled—”

  “It’s tomorrow.”

  A nervous laugh escaped her. “Yeah—”

  The words died on her tongue, because he kissed her, effectively swallowing them whole. She gripped his suit jacket, holding on tightly as his mouth moved over hers. He backed her against the nearest wall, his lips commanding her full attention as he tugged her shirt out of her skirt effortlessly.

  Before he lifted it up, he ended the kiss, breathing raggedly as he searched her gaze for something. What? She had no idea. She kind of hoped he didn’t find it, though.

  “I want to make you come again, and this time I’m going to fuck you properly. That okay with you?” he asked, his voice low and steady as if he wasn’t even slightly turned on right now when she was about to die.

  She nodded, tugging him down by the back of his neck.

  “Thank God,” he mumbled under his breath before he picked her up, hauled her into his arms, and carried her into his room, his mouth never leaving hers as he walked.

  She silently echoed the sentiment.

  Chapter Ten

  Even though it had only been hours since he’d k
issed her—since he’d met her, even—it seemed more like he’d been waiting for years. Her sweet mouth pressed to his was all he’d been able to think about as he’d spent a long, sleepless night alone on the uncomfortable mattress in the guest bedroom—he really needed to buy a new one—regretting his impulsive decision to wait until today to touch her.

  Lowering her to the comforter, he stepped back, appreciating the moment. Her hair fell down her back, her lips slightly swollen and her cheeks tinged pink. By the time he was finished with her, she would be quivering with pleasure and deliciously naked…and she’d forget all about ever wanting to go home. She was still hesitant, even now. Because of this, he took his time unbuttoning his shirt.

  Clothing would only get in the way after he climbed on that bed.

  Her lips parted as her gaze followed his hands. He took his time unbuttoning his shirt, giving her time to process what was about to happen. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman, to never pressure anyone or to move too fast—something he used not only in the bedroom, but in his everyday life, as well, because he didn’t want anyone coming to him later on with regrets.

  Especially not his Sam.

  Shrugging his shoulders, he let his shirt hit the floor with his jacket.

  Time to lose his pants.

  Reaching the bottom of her shirt, she lifted it up.

  “Don’t,” he commanded, his voice low.

  She froze. “Why not?”

  “I want to do it.”

  He’d take his time, too. Sam was a present he wanted to relish unwrapping. He refused to rush or deny her even a second of the pleasure he could give her.

  Her hands dropped. “O-Okay.”

  His heart pounded so hard and fast he couldn’t hear anything but his crushing need to have her in his arms. He undid his button, letting his pants join the rest of his clothing as he stood there wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs. Pink infused her cheeks as she pressed her thighs together. Without hesitation, he rolled his boxers down his thighs, removed them, and stood straight.

  Completely naked.

  She sucked in a breath, readjusting her position, her thighs falling open slightly. “W-Wow.”