The Billionaire's Seduction (Billionaire Bodyguards Book 5)

by Avalon,Kristi

He stretched out his long, long legs. Remembering the moment in her kitchen, when his height had come into sharp focus, she felt breathless all over again. Few men literally towered over her. She’d felt short, even petite in his presence.

  Very rare. Definitely appealing.

  Legs outstretched, he planted his boots on either side of her heels. Without him touching her, she experienced the essence of an embrace. A shiver tracked through her.

  “A mentalist is someone with uncanny abilities to understand people at their core,” he explained. “A practiced one can tell the truth about a person in glance, and improves on his impression within the span of a brief conversation. I knew you were innocent the instant I walked through the door and stopped where I stood.”

  She recalled the exact moment. “Really?”

  The notion sparked so much hope. However, this conversation wasn’t about her. She wanted to know about him, how he’d become so skilled in his unusual art.

  “What else can mentalists do?”

  He lowered his head, focused on pouring a second small bottle of liquor into his glass. “We also find ways to connect with people, through tricks.” He gestured at her with his replenished drink. “I promise, it’s not as deceitful as it sounds.”

  “Like what?”

  “It’s not just the questions I asked you, back in the room. It’s the way I asked you. I formulated each one to draw out maximum information from minimum inquiries.”

  Reflecting on their discussion, she nodded. “The way you spoke to me… It felt like a conversation, not an inquest.”

  He lifted his glass to her. “Exactly.”

  “How do you know what to ask? How do you make a complete stranger feel so comfortable with you?”

  A shadow descended on his features, even though the lighting in the cabin didn’t change. “I had to learn. Too young. Out of necessity.”

  “Tell me.” She leaned forward in earnest. “I want to know.”

  He swirled the ice in his drink, staring at it as if it contained the key to unlocking his past. “My family—me, my brother, my Mom and Dad—epitomized dysfunction. My father, God rest his soul, was a drunk, unrepentant asshole.”

  Sophia swallowed.

  “That’s why we lived in a trailer park. While my cousins—our dads were brothers—lived in a decent house, blue-collar folks but with stellar values. No idea why my dad and my uncle ended up so different. At the start, they owned a bondsman, bounty-hunter business, and ran a late-night repo gig on the side. My uncle was the funds manager, the bondsman. My dad was the bounty hunter, repo guy, through and through. Hard. Badass. Fearless.”

  “Your uncle ran the financial side of things?”

  Liam nodded. He sipped his drink absently, as though sucked into memories she couldn’t see. “They made damned good money, by blue-collar standards. Uncle Jake had a better head on his shoulders. Trey and Cade, my cousins, were good at school. I tried to be, on my own, as far as that went.”

  “Did you go to college?”

  “None of us did, except Cade. Trey and Cade are the family success stories, for sure.”

  Sophia shook her head. “You’re a success story, Liam. The best kind.”

  Instinctively, she wanted to reach out and touch him, to affirm her statement. He seemed too far away from her—emotionally, if not physically.

  He huffed a laugh devoid of humor. “I had to find a way.”

  “A way to what?” she asked softly.

  “Peace.” He gazed past her shoulder as if staring at a distant memory. “There was never a dull moment at our house—trailer.” His lips twisted. “Most days, when I woke up for school, my brother wasn’t in the bed across from mine. He dealt with shit in his own way. He took to the streets, found a home there instead. He was three years older than me. I didn’t blame him. But someone had to stay behind, to run interference.”

  “Between whom?” she asked.

  “Mom and Pops. They married at nineteen and twenty. Never stood a chance.” He tilted his head. “She never stood a chance. Pops was a rebel without a cause, and clung to that persona, despite having a family.”

  “He mistreated your mom?”

  “That’s an understatement.” Liam shifted back in his chair, like responding to a flinch, as if the memories packed a psychological and physical punch. “Without going into details, or ruining your rosy view of human nature, he was the devil incarnate. A bastard in form and function. When I reached eight years old, Mom knew when Pops was in a mood. She chose not to come home those nights.” He shrugged. “I don’t blame her.”

  “But…that left you, alone, with your dad.”

  “Good times.” Liam lifted his glass like a bitter cheers to an invisible entity. She heard the stark pain in his voice. “To avoid confrontation, his fists or his belt, I made up shit to distract him. He usually brought his drunk buddies home, too, who crashed…wherever. I scrounged for ways to entertain them.”

  Scared, alone, self-sufficient too young, desperate to arm himself with something to help reinforce his self-preservation… Her heart squeezed for the innocent boy Liam had once been. This picture could’ve drawn a much darker conclusion, far different than the proud, impressive, successful man sitting across from her.

  Wanting to offer him some means of support, she leaned closer to him across the aisle, uncrossing her legs. Their ankles touched. He didn’t move his boots. She didn’t move her heels.

  The essence of embrace strengthened.

  He fell silent for a minute. “I found this guy.” His voice softened as if in respect, maybe reverence. “He was a staple on the Vegas circuit. A hypnotist-slash-magician, who I snuck out to see when he performed on the seedier side of the strip. Nobody at home cared that I was gone, so I figured, what the hell? He saw me in the audience, show after show. He came up to me, one night, after a performance. We talked for five minutes. He knew. In one quick conversation, he saw me, the demons I fought, the strength I desperately needed. He just knew. From there, he took me under his wing. He taught me what I needed to learn, to know. To survive.”

  “You made it,” she commended. “You pulled through. You’ve become a success story.”

  When he lifted his gaze to hers, she saw doubt swimming in his eyes. “Have I? Am I?”

  Suddenly, he stood up, his head bumping the ceiling of the cabin. “I’ll be back.” He headed for the rear of the cabin, then paused. He clamped his fingers on the back of her chair like a death grip. “By the way, you never heard any of that. Are we clear?”

  Craning her neck to look up at him, eyes wide, she nodded.

  He turned away and enclosed himself in the bathroom.

  She released a tense breath.

  At the most fundamental level, her questions had been more than answered. Yet she felt like an unwelcome imposter, an eavesdropper, privileged to intensely private information he made it clear he wished he hadn’t told her. Things she shouldn’t know.

  Briefly, she thought she might’ve fallen half in love with him, in the past ten minutes. Impossible. She was with Todd. Still, she innately understood that the knowledge he’d given her, she could use in any way she wanted.

  If she were a marketing fanatic or a journalistic vampire, she could see the value of such a tale. Brilliant, really. The painful backstory behind a modern-day, self-made billionaire.

  Fortunately, she wasn’t any of those things.

  For God’s sake, he barely knew her. She barely knew him. Had knowing about her blatant honesty, with his gift of insight, made it easier for him to entrust her with his darkest secrets?

  No, she thought. Nothing could’ve made it easy to entrust anyone with his terrible past. Why her? What had he seen in her, that made him reveal what he had?

  A fellow spirit in near poverty growing up? Someone who wouldn’t dream of judging him?

  His reasoning remained elusive.

  The bathroom door opened. She swung her chair to face forward. She didn’t know what to say, how to a
ct.

  Maybe he needed his distance? Todd usually did, after an emotional unveiling about his past. Though, now, Todd struck her as disgustingly shallow. She shouldn’t think that, but it was the truth. He knew nothing about struggle, about pain, about neglect. His complain-a-brag stories turned her stomach.

  Could she maintain a relationship with a man she didn’t really respect, who didn’t sincerely inspire her?

  Doubt crowded her thoughts.

  Maybe she needed this separation he’d unintentionally—or, had Todd intentionally?—offered.

  Liam returned to his seat.

  Unsure how to respond, she stared straight ahead. Until Liam manually maneuvered her seat to face him.

  She risked a glance upward.

  His face, his whole demeanor, had changed. She found an entirely different man seated across from her.

  Gone was the tragic, mysterious individual who’d revealed the most secret, most vulnerable piece of himself.

  In his place, a confidence, borderline cocky guy sat across from her, turning her chair to face him.

  At the transition, she found her breath frozen. He looked like the man she wanted him to be, in her forbidden fantasy, who took control and didn’t ask permission. She wanted to not care, in this second, that she had a boyfriend. A pathetic boyfriend, right now, truth be told, compared to the man who believed in her, across from her, no holds barred.

  He knew her. She knew him.

  If Liam kissed her right now, she found herself ready to embrace the possibility. Her lungs labored to take in air. She shouldn’t, couldn’t. This wasn’t her. But if Liam did…

  He stopped the circular motion of her chair directly in front of him. His boots enclosed her heels, like it was always meant to be that way. Like he was meant to touch her, even if it was between their feet. She lifted her arches, brushing them against his boots.

  He gave her a stop-right-there stare. “Don’t.”

  “I-I’m not—”

  “Look at me, Sophia.” He reached out, cupping her face in his hands. He glanced at her lips, then back into her eyes. “If you want that, in the future, tell me. I’m all onboard. For now, that’s not where your heart is.”

  He was right. She swallowed hard.

  “The next time you look at me like that,” he said, his breath whispering against her lips, “you’d better know, in your heart, you belong to no one else.”

  Her stomach flipped at his words. Her heart dropped to her toes, then bounced back up into her rib cage a complete tangled mess.

  “My turn.” She stood to venture back to the restroom.

  The plane dipped at that moment, hitting a pocket of turbulence. She lost her footing.

  Before she landed hard on her knees, she found herself cradled in his arms. She kneeled in front of him. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She felt his warm hand at the small of her back. His other hand curved around the back of her neck. He pressed her against him. She recognized the thick formation of his arousal against her hip.

  Oh, my God.

  In a ragged tone, he whispered, “You have five seconds to walk out of my arms. Or you’ll make me forget why you can’t belong to me.”

  She froze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape the sensual net he wrapped around her, even if she wanted to.

  His mouth touched her forehead. “Five.”

  His lips traveled to the edge of her eyebrow, pressing a kiss there. “Four.”

  Tracing the rim of her ear, he released a soft moan. “Three.”

  Her bones melted.

  He dragged his rough cheek against hers. His lips dragged along her jaw. She released a shuddering sigh. “Two.”

  His teeth grazed her chin.

  Then heat of his breath caressed her lips. “One.”

  One. One last chance. Todd deserved that…didn’t he? Didn’t everyone deserve one final chance?

  Pain radiated from her chest as she shot to her feet. Liam’s warmth receded, leaving her chilled and empty for no respectable reason. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  She raced to the back of the plane.

  Tucked into safe confines, she rested her back against the closed bathroom door. Eyes closed, she swallowed, held her fingers to her lips. She’d come way too close to letting Liam kiss her. So unlike her.

  Not okay.

  What was it about Liam that stripped her of all defenses?

  He was dangerous. In the sexiest, most compelling way.

  She pressed cold, trembling fingers to her hot cheeks.

  Was she stupid, or just a fool, holding out hope for Todd? She’d known Todd for six weeks. He’d moved in after week two. They’d spent a glorious month together. Now he was gone. Just…evaporated, like a puddle in the Vegas desert.

  Still, she wasn’t ready.

  She wasn’t ready to ditch her emotional investment—too much, she admitted in hindsight—in Todd, to transfer her allegiance and her trust and her body, to a man she’d known less than four hours.

  Surely, Liam could understand her position. They’d known each other for too short a time.

  Their mutual attraction played havoc with her loyalty. She’d tell him that, she decided. She would walk out of this bathroom and state her case, like the sensible woman she was. Liam seemed like a reasonable man. A respectable man. He’d respect her stance.

  Along the aisle, her footsteps faltered. She regained her poise.

  All business, she returned to her chair. She swiped her palms against her skirt. “Liam—”

  “You good?” he asked, concern—for her—clear in his words.

  “I think so?” She hadn’t meant it to come out like a question. She glanced away from Liam. “I’m okay.”

  Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he investigated her. “You sure?”

  “Positive.” She felt no such thing.

  He sat back in a relaxed, regal pose. “Want to see a cool trick?”

  The pilot came over the speakers. His voice sounded so different from the tinny, microphonic tone on a typical airline. He came through with impressive bass, lowering his voice to something almost sexy. “Please be advised, we’re descending into Denver International Airport. Make the transitions necessary for landing.”

  How funny? Not the usual, buckle up, stay in your seat. Almost as if the pilot assumed shenanigans were taking place, and he politely suggested they resume those shenanigans after the flight’s descent.

  Liam cut off her amusement, repositioning her chair in front of him. Her legs had nowhere else to go. He trapped her thighs between his. “Are you interested in my mentalist abilities, or not?”

  Despite herself, and the sly, sexy look on his face, she admitted, “I do.”

  While the plane made its fifteen-minute descent, her attention belonged solely to him.

  “I have a piece of paper,” he said, producing it. “I’m going to tear it into six strips. Three for you, three for me.”

  The way he stared at her, he could’ve asked her to strip off her panties and hand them over. She might have, damn the hypnotic mentalist. He could turn on that irresistible charm, when he wanted to—but did he, right now, during the plane’s descent?

  Not his style, she thought. She took his request at face value.

  “What do I do?” she asked, holding three strips of paper in her hands.

  “I want you to write down one thing at a time. First,” he said, peering deeply into her eyes. “Write down your first love. The guy who got away.”

  “Okay.” Not hard—until she realized her first instinct wasn’t to write down Todd. She thought back to her prom night date, who’d ended up marrying her best friend. She couldn’t hold it against them, they were totally meant to be. Still. She wrote Matt.

  At the same time, Liam wrote something down. As if he were channeling her thoughts? She eyed him dubiously.

  He instructed, “Crumple your paper into a wad, and hand it to me. I’ll hand you my piece of paper. When you do, tell me
your answer aloud.”

  She did as he requested. They exchanged crumpled pieces of paper.

  “Your answer?”

  “Matt,” she said.

  His eyebrows drew together. “Huh. Interesting.” He appeared surprised, like that wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “Now, write down on your slip of paper when you got your first job, how old were you?”

  Ha, that was easy. She’d worked with her mom cleaning houses, at thirteen. She wrote down thirteen. She glanced at Liam. He was absorbed in writing down his own answer. She wanted to laugh. No way, would he guess she’d been employed, under the table, at thirteen.

  While he crumpled his piece of paper, he stared at her as thought reading her innermost thoughts. She shivered.

  “Finally,” he said, glancing up nonchalantly from his last slip of paper. “If you were invited to a fine dining party—say, if I took you to some art gallery opening—would you choose a black dress or a red dress?”

  If he took her to an art gallery opening? Dear God, she’d pick the black dress in an instant. Her mind went there.

  Would he ever, in an imaginary future, take her to a fancy art gallery opening? She had no business entertaining the notion. But…if he did…

  She wrote down her answer, while he wrote down his. She squished the paper in her hand. He did the same. They traded the final crumpled slip.

  Setting down his pen, he said, “Time for the big reveal.”

  “It won’t be what you expect,” she assured, a haughty tone in her voice.

  That remains to be seen, gorgeous.

  He stifled a knowing grin.

  Having mastered this fake-out long ago, he said, “Tell me, oh confident one.” He unwrapped his first answer. “Who was your first love?”

  She unwrapped her slip. “Matt.”

  “Really?” He made a show of appearing perplexed. He unwrapped his, and the name Matt was scrawled in his own hand.

  “What?” she shrieked. “Impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s no possible way you could know that.”

  “Is it? So impossible?”

  She glared at him. “You’re tricking me.”

  “How could I? You wrote down your answer. I gaged you, looked into your mind, and wrote my answer down separately. Where’s the trick?”