An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

by Diane Alberts

  “Or my bank account.”

  “—but clearly you’re just as closed off as me, as you should be. After all, like you said, we’re just fucking in that bed, right?” she shot at him, ignoring his comment about his money. “This is all just one big first date.”

  “That’s what we agreed on.”

  She nodded, swallowing hard. “So why does it bother you if I don’t like your job?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered, not meeting her eyes. “Why does it bother you that I fuck you the same way I did every other girl I brought into this bed, if you just want a good time?”

  Just the idea of him lumping her in with every other woman he’d had sex with…ugh. It hurt. It shouldn’t. But it did. “I…” She broke off, swallowing hard.

  Something unwanted must have slipped into her expression.

  He flinched, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Yeah, you did.” She lifted her chin. “And that’s fine. After all, that’s all this is. Meaningless, fun, mindless pleasure. When it’s over, I’m supposed to get dressed and leave, like the other girls do, but I’ve been staying. Speaking of which…” She glanced at her wrist. It was bare. “Wow. Look at the time, I should go. Busy day at the office tomorrow. Lots of unicorns to rescue.”

  He let out a moan and walked toward her. “Sammy—”

  “Don’t ‘Sammy’ me,” she snapped, dropping her sheet and picking up her panties. “This conversation was enlightening. Truly. Just what I needed to get my head on straight.”

  He flexed his jaw, watching her dress. As she stepped into her pants, he asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” she muttered.

  “What a surprise, you won’t let me in.”

  She stiffened, yanking her sweater over her head and leaving her bra on the floor. She needed to get out of here ASAP, before she did something stupid. That hollow ache in her chest, that burning sting in her eyes…it might have been a long time, but she was gonna cry.

  Over him.

  Stupid.

  Grabbing her stuff, she shoved her bra into her purse and picked up her shoes, not bothering to take the time to shove her feet into them. Facing him, she squared her shoulders and forced a calm expression to her face that rivaled his stony countenance. “Hey, this was fun, but I think it’s time we call it quits, huh? After all, people on their first date aren’t supposed to care enough to fight like this, right?”

  He paled, not moving, still as naked as he’d been when he’d brought her to pleasure minutes before. “You’re walking away? Just like that?”

  She met his eyes, refusing to let herself hurt because he wasn’t even trying to stop her from leaving. Why should he? They were just having fun. There was no obligation for him to try to make her happy or to resolve their fight. She might as well continue to prop up an icy facade, to appear as cold as he seemed to think she was. As cold as he was.

  She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

  And then she did it.

  She left.

  It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed and she stepped into her sneakers, hopping on one foot while holding on to the metal bar on the wall and trying to keep her balance, that she dropped the act and let the tears fall down her face—tears she had no right shedding over a guy who didn’t give a damn about her.

  Stupid, stupid girl.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this.

  If she wanted to end things, fine. She had that right. They had agreed early on that their date could easily be terminated on either side and that neither one of them had any claims to the other when that moment came. He stood by that promise, since he was a man of his word.

  What he didn’t stand by was what he’d said that had caused her to leave him.

  Comparing her to his past lovers had been wrong on so many levels, but her ripping apart everything he did and accusing him of being cold and dead inside had made the spark he’d been denying was inside him for the past week burst into a full-fledged combustion. He wasn’t cold and dead, and he did know what emotions were, and it was all her damn fault.

  She’d broken past every defense he had in place to guard his life and himself, and she’d had the audacity to tell him that he was the grim reaper come to life.

  He wasn’t. Not anymore.

  Truth was, he never should have let himself get angry, or let go of his self-control…one of the many things she didn’t like about him. But look what happened when he did.

  He said stupid shit that lost him the girl.

  While there was probably no fixing that or going back in time to do things differently, he could fix the way she remembered him, at the very least. He could tell her the truth. And if that didn’t change anything, so be it. He would give her what she wanted. But first…

  Time to lose control one more time.

  He lifted his hand, knocked three times, and waited, heart pounding, to find out whether or not she’d let him in. Rage boiled through him, and, at the same time, panic—that she might not open the door. Would she give him a chance to make things right?

  After an indeterminable amount of torturous time, the lock slid against metal, and the door opened slightly, and her face appeared through the thin crack. “How did you find out my apartment number?”

  He rested a sweaty palm on the wall next to her door. Since when did he get nervous? He brokered million-dollar deals without so much as a bead of sweat. “I told you, I own this place.”

  “I thought that was a joke, not for—” She cut herself off. “Never mind. Of course, it wasn’t a joke. You probably never joke about money, huh?”

  He shook his head slightly. “I won’t apologize for having the foresight to buy this place when it was dirt cheap—or for keeping it open so people can live in it and I can make money off of it.”

  She crossed her arms.

  He met her eyes. Hers were bloodshot and devoid of makeup. A little red, too. Had she been crying? “May I come in?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Sure, why not? I mean, it’s yours.” She stepped aside, letting him in. He drank in the sight of her home greedily, searching for any hints of the woman behind the mask. “Don’t mind the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  It wasn’t a mess at all…unless the blanket on the couch counted as “messy.” Her home was small, tidy, and personalized with flowers, pillows, a few books—and yet there wasn’t a single personal item that wouldn’t be in a model home. Just enough decorations to make it her style, along with a couch, a TV, a small dining room table with one chair, and a coffee table with a book on learning French lying in the middle. Oh, and a few cat toys in a basket in the corner.

  Why was she learning French?

  “Nice place,” he said, stopping short of her couch.

  She remained standing, too, keeping her distance. “What are you doing here?”

  Well, time to get to it.

  “I hold on to control over everything in my life because as a kid, the only thing I could control was myself. If I cried, my mom cried, and she was already so tired, so I decided at a very young age not to do that anymore. Not to lose control over myself…ever. I don’t like the way it makes me feel, even now.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t have to explain—”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She hugged herself tighter, nodding.

  “I brought that same sense of self-control to the bedroom, once I was old enough, and I have never once been with a girl who threatened to make me lose the hold I have over myself in bed.” He flexed his jaw. “Not once.”

  “I know,” she said, lifting her tiny nose in the air. “You made that pretty clear earlier, so I don’t know why you drove over here—”

  “I had an Uber bring me, because I’m a little bit drunk.” He held his fingers up and made a tiny crack between his thumb and pointer finger. “Enough to make it possible for me to say what I’m ab
out to say, but not so much that my head’s not on straight enough to make sure I don’t fuck it up.” He paused. “It’s a very thin line between the two.”

  Her lips twitched into an almost-smile. It was the prettiest almost-smile he’d ever seen, because it gave him hope that all might not be lost. “I’m sure.”

  “What I’m trying to say here is that no one even threatened that hold I have over myself…until you.” He took a step toward her. “The first time I took you to my bed, I lost control of myself. You threaten it every damn day without even trying, and that scares the shit out of me.”

  She hugged herself even tighter, standing her ground.

  “I lied when I said I fucked you the same way I did every other woman. I lost it and said shit I didn’t mean.” He flexed his jaw. “Because of that, I lost you, which is ironic, considering you’re the first woman I tried so damn hard to keep.”

  Her fingers dug into her pajama shirt—which had cats on it.

  Fucking cats.

  Her hair was pulled in a loose ponytail, her eyes wide and so bright they were blinding. She took his breath away with her beauty. “Taylor…”

  Not wanting her to stop him, he continued on in a rush. “I want to know more about you because whatever this is we have going on between us—call it what you want—but you’re not meaningless, and this isn’t just sex. You’re more than that. You’re my—friend. And I don’t want to lose you. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

  She shook her head.

  “I care about whether you like me or not, and it kills me that you don’t right now, because I like you so damn much. Enough to let go and put the ball in your court. Enough to break a lifetime habit and let you in even if you won’t do the same for me. Please don’t end our first date, Sammy. Not yet. I’m not ready.”

  Her lower lip trembled, and she bit it. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then don’t say anything. Let me show you what I mean.”

  Hunger gnawed at him as he claimed her mouth, tasting her with abandon. Anger at his stupid mistakes plagued him, but as her mouth moved under his, all that was left was hope warming his chest.

  Growling, he backed her against the wall, lifting her up. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he made quick work of removing all obstacles of clothing as his mouth worked over hers impatiently. Sliding his hand in between them, he teased her core, playing with her until she clung to him, crying his name out.

  And when she stiffened, her body grasping for the release he’d normally deny her until he decided it was time, he let her go, giving her what she wanted and not thinking twice. Collapsing against the wall, she waited as he rolled the condom on, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a mess, her lips swollen.

  I did that. She’s mine.

  And he was hers.

  As soon as he had a condom on, he slid between her thighs, moving in to kiss her but stopping moments shy of actually doing so, his cock at the point of entering her luscious body even though it still trembled from the pleasure he’d given her, but not actually burying himself inside her.

  “This is just me. No calculated plans that I mapped out before I even touched you, no self-control holding me back. Just me taking you because if I don’t have you one more time before you walk away, I might fucking die. Just you, me, and nothing in our way.”

  She nodded, letting out a shuddered breath. “Do it.”

  Kissing her, he thrust inside with one hard stroke. She urged him on, digging her heels into his lower back, and he closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy her body wrapped around his, his body deep inside hers. Each thrust took a piece of himself he would never see again and gave it to her, and he could only hope she would hold on to it tightly.

  As tightly as she held him now.

  His mouth softened on hers as he deepened his motions, burying his hand in her hair as he cradled the back of her head. She cried out his name into his mouth, her body quivering as she squeezed him, bringing him closer until he moved inside her with an abandon he’d never experienced before.

  Just like he’d promised, he let go of everything and lost himself in her arms. He’d never been so goddamn free before.

  With one last stroke, he came explosively, and she was right there with him, arching her back with bite marks on her neck that he didn’t remember putting there. Letting out a breath, he dropped his head on the cool wall, supporting her weight as he came back down from the high she’d sent him on.

  Pulling back, he examined her face for a sign of, well, anything, running his thumbs over her cheeks. Her eyes were closed. “Sam…?”

  She opened her lids, those crystal-blue depths pulling him under. He didn’t bother to fight it. There was no use. He was already drowning, and nothing would save him. “Yeah?”

  “Would you like me to leave now, alone? Or…” He cut off, his voice raw and his emotions even rawer. He was wide open for her. Vulnerable. Exposed. “…or do you want to come home with me?”

  Touching his cheek with an open palm, she ran her fingers over his stubble, offering him a small smile. Her cheeks were pink, her hair a mess, her lips swollen. She was everything he’d never known he wanted—no, needed. With one simple sentence, she saved him from himself. “I want you to take me home.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “And you went back to his place?” Izzy asked, sipping her coffee.

  Sam’s best friend had returned from Vegas a different woman and had yet to tell her the whole story of what had gone down out there. Her long blond hair fell over her shoulders, at direct contrast with her deep brown eyes. She wore fingerless mittens and a matching slouchy hat she’d probably knitted.

  Sam nodded.

  “And because of this…” Izzy frowned. “You guys are still on your first date?”

  “Yep. As long as I keep sleeping at his place every night, we’re still on our first date, so we have to keep coming back together to finish it out properly,” Sam said, smiling.

  Izzy, though, seemed less impressed. “So, he doesn’t want a second date? And that doesn’t…upset you?”

  “No,” she answered as honestly as she could, trying not to show that she shared her friend’s doubt. “Why would it? I don’t want more than a temporary thing, either. Plus, he’s got a lot of rules and patterns… He doesn’t like change.”

  When said out loud, it made him sound like a bore.

  But he was so much more. He’d fought for her and stole her breath with every smile, sigh, and touch. He was the man who broke his rules for her and who wasn’t pushing her to do the same.

  “He sounds like an old man.”

  Sam sighed. “He’s not. He’s…”

  Wonderful. Amazing. Handsome. Breathtaking.

  After a period of silence, Izzy whistled through her teeth. “Wow.”

  “What?” she asked, ripping herself out of her mind and abandoning her search for the perfect adjective to describe an indescribable man like Taylor.

  “You.” Her best friend gestured at her, pursing her lips. “You’ve got it bad.”

  Sam’s cheeks heated. “No, I don’t.”

  “Girls who drift off with that dreamy look in their eyes when talking about a guy always have it bad.” She sat back, folding her arms. “You can thank me for that.”

  Sam winced. “I’m sorry, by the way, about that whole mix-up. And for how your trip to Vegas turned out.”

  “At least I found out he was a lying, cheating son of a bitch before I married him, right?” Izzy asked, her face emotionless but her eyes telling a whole other story.

  She reached out and touched her best friend’s hand. “Izzy—”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  Sam didn’t argue.

  Izzy sighed. “Apparently Andrew really liked the woman who bought him for the night, too.” She grinned. “I’m a regular old fairy godmother, only instead of finding princes who probably couldn’t find a G-spot with a m
agnifying glass and a map, I’m setting people up with amazing sex with my bippity, boppity, boo crap.”

  Sam choked on a laugh. “You realize you just said your brother is good in bed, right?”

  “Ew, gross.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. Half the guys in the room sighed. “Though, he’s related to me, so he’d have to be. Good sex runs in the blood.”

  Sam shook her head. “Where did you go last night? Sorry I couldn’t come along.”

  Her best friend gazed out the window. “It’s fine. I actually liked being alone. I went to a book reading, and the woman had an amazing voice. She made me want to write again.”

  “Really?” Sam asked, smiling. Izzy used to write all the time, back in college, but it had been a long time since she let herself enjoy that passion, since teaching took up most of her time. “What do you want to write?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I opened a blank document yesterday, and some words just kinda fell out onto the page. So far, all I know is that my main character is a detective, and she’s trying to find a killer who’s terrifying a small town.”

  “So…a mystery?”

  “Maybe.” Diane shrugged. “I named the killer Tom.”

  Her ex-fiancé’s name. “Is he going to die at the end?”

  “I hope so.”

  Sam laughed, tracing an invisible path on the gray tabletop. “I’ll go with you to the next reading. I’d like to see what it’s like.”

  Izzy grinned. “Maybe by then, your ‘date’ will be over.”

  “Maybe…”

  “Tell me more about him,” Izzy said.

  Sam shook her head. “The last thing you want to hear about is my love life. Let’s talk about your book—”

  “No. I want distractions. I want to hear all about your love life in excruciating detail. Go.”

  “Fine…” Sam hesitated. “Last night, he told me I was the first girl to threaten his self-control and that I’m more than a lover—I’m his friend. It was nice and all, but we don’t make sense.”

  “Why not?” Izzy asked, frowning.

  “Because he’s rich, for starters.”