Billionaire Body Heat

by Sasha Gold

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says from the den.

  I turn to face him. “I’m sorry. I’ve never broken anything like that before-”

  He holds up a hand to stop me. “It’s not important.”

  “And yet…” I’m not sure how to finish the sentence. On one hand he says it’s not important, and yet I can see in his eyes that he’s not backing down from his demand that I pay for the damages. He waits, one brow arched. “And yet, I still need to pay for the vase.”

  “You do. By working for me. The same thing you’ve been doing. The only difference is that you’ll stay here.”

  “For how long?”

  “A long time.”

  His voice is low and soft and edged with heat. If he’s trying to intimidate me into complying, he’s doing a great job. He’s stands in the middle of the den. I’m struck by a jolt of prickling nervousness. Dressed casually, he wears dark gray slacks, a button-down shirt open at the neck and a sports coat. He’s handsome. Flawless.

  From the beginning, I knew he was a big powerful man, but now my awareness of him fills an entirely different universe. He hasn’t said anything to me this evening or last that contains a hint of inappropriateness, and yet I feel the energy pulsing between us. A sensual awareness.

  In the past, I told my friends that I didn’t want to date anyone, that I was fine waiting till I was older. I realize now that I’d never been so attracted to a man. With a rush of understanding, I can see that I’m in so much more trouble than I’d imagined.

  He must see the distraught look on my face, because his demeanor changes. He’d been staring at me intently, but he relaxes his posture and smiles. He’s got dimples. Of course, he does. Shit.

  “So, this is just business, right?” My heart slams my ribs. “I need to know.”

  “It is business. But it could be pleasure. If I had my way.” He doesn’t move a muscle. He still appears relaxed, but his shoulders are tense. His jaw is set, and his body is taut with raw, masculine energy. “The offer’s there, if you want it.”

  “And if I don’t.” My throat is tight. “If I don’t want anything more than business?”

  “Then it will be all business. Nothing more.”

  Now that he’s laid his cards on the table, I feel a sense of relief. I know he wants me. I felt it the moment I first locked eyes with him, but he’s not pushing or making me feel vulnerable. If anything, his admission makes me feel better because I know where I stand, for now.

  He takes a few steps closer. “Either way, I won’t let you keep living in place that’s not safe. If I need to use blackmail, it won’t bother me a bit. And in the meantime, I’ve got a pretty girl I can spoil for a little while.”

  He moves closer, takes my hand in his and smiles. “Let me take you to eat something.”

  His hand envelopes mine with a gentle but powerful hold. His scent hits me as tingles travel up my arm. With a seductive gleam in his eye, he rubs his thumb across my skin.

  “Don’t look so scared, Tessa. This could be fun. And tonight, it’s just a simple dinner. Scout’s honor.”

  He squeezes my hand before letting go. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t come closer either. I shiver. Part of me wants to retreat. Part of me wants to press closer and inhale his masculine, spicy scent. Everything about him devastates me.

  I nod. “I don’t have a proper coat, just the leather jacket you lent me last night.”

  “The restaurant is next door. They have a side entrance just off the foyer.”

  After an awkward elevator ride, we arrive downstairs to a crowded lobby. I’ve never been here in the evening. The foyer is filled with frazzled people returning from work, and elegantly dressed people heading out for the evening.

  “I better hold on to you,” he says. “I don’t want any of the men around here thinking you’re alone.”

  He offers his arm, a gesture that’s so gallant, it makes me smile. He frowns at me.

  “Are you being serious? You’re worried that men are what? Checking me out?”

  “Tessa.” He shakes his head, a look of disbelief in his eyes. “You have no idea, do you?”

  The gentle teasing from a few moments ago is gone now. He looks puzzled and a little annoyed. When a man passes by and gives me a double-take, Roman’s expression darkens. Pressing his lips together, he scowls, holds out his hand and waits for me to take it.

  We’re facing each other in the middle of the crowded foyer. As people flow around us, he moves closer to me, looming over me, like he wants to snatch me away from the crowd. His eyes flash with a possessive gleam. I can’t tear my eyes from him. No one has ever looked at me like that before.

  “Take. My. Hand,” he grinds out.

  “There are a lot of people around,” I murmur.

  “I know.”

  “I could make a run for it.”

  He blinks in surprise. “Run for it?”

  “Right. I could make my escape, give you the slip and race out those doors.”

  His lips quirk. “Think so? How far do you think you’d get in those heels?”

  “I’m very fast.”

  “I’d catch you.” He takes my hand in his, runs his other hand down my back and presses it to my lower back. He lowers to whisper in my ear. “And then I’d let you go. Just for an instant. You’d think you’d gotten away, but I’d be right behind you, and I’d grab you again. Wrap you up in my arms. I might let you go a few times, but I’d always be just a step away. Would you like that? A little game of cat and mouse?”

  He looks into my eyes and waits for a response. When I don’t reply immediately, he narrows his eyes. A moment ago, he didn’t want anyone to think I was there by myself, but he’s not concerned anymore. He towers over me. Every single thing about his posture makes it clear that I belong to him. His scent and his touch and the curiously erotic scenario he just described make my thoughts scatter.

  “Maybe some other time,” he says. “I’ll chase you and catch you even though I’ll give you a head start.”

  Roman guides me through the mass of people. We walk down the hallway into the restaurant. Moments later, we’re seated at a table.

  “Wine?” he asks.

  “Please.”

  I shouldn’t drink anything. I’m more than light-headed. He’s wrecked my defenses. He brushes his hand across my lower back as he guides me to our booth, and then sits beside me. Casual. Like this isn’t any big deal. I was doing okay a few minutes ago, but sitting next to him overwhelms me. My heart is about to give out.

  I stare at the menu, not really seeing anything since I’m reeling from the sensory overload.

  Roman orders a bottle of wine and an appetizer. The moment the waiter leaves, he turns to me with a wry smile curving his lips.

  “As much as I like your cooking, I like the idea of taking you out.” His gaze travels from my eyes to my lips and back again. “And I really like seeing you in heels and a dress. I might never let you cook dinner.”

  “How am I going to pay off my debt?”

  His expression is sultry, but his words have a very different tone. “By staying with me, keeping away from men who push women around.”

  The waiter returns, shows the wine bottle to Roman and then proceeds to uncork it. Roman offers me the glass to taste it. I like wine, but it goes straight to my head. We were expected to know a little about wine and beer in culinary school. On Fridays, we ended the week with a big meal. All the students, about twenty of us, took turns making a meal for the instructors. We’d serve wine, but we didn’t serve anything like this.

  It’s got a rich, deep flavor that’s a lot different from the wines I’ve tasted. I’m no connoisseur, but I can tell this costs a little more than the stuff I’ve tried before.

  “You like it?” Roman asks.

  “It’s wonderful.”

  I take another sip and set the glass aside. I don’t want to add to the swirling confusion in my mind.

  The waiter returns a short
while later, bringing us a gorgeous plate of oysters. We order dinner and enjoy the appetizer. Roman keeps the conversation light. Slowly I relax. A few times, I catch a woman staring at us from across the restaurant. She’s gorgeous. Leggy. Dark-haired with light eyes and a full mouth that’s curved downwards. She’s looking at Roman as if she’d like to grind him under her red heel.

  “Roman,” I say softly. “Do you see that woman across the restaurant?”

  His eyes flick to her table and back to me. “Yes.”

  He returns his attention to me, leaning a little closer. His scent makes my thoughts spin wildly. The booth is dark, but a single candle casts shadows across his face. I’m sure this looks like we’re lovers. I can practically feel the daggers launching from the other woman’s eyes. The hair on the back of my neck prickles.

  The wine has changed my mood from nervous to reckless. I’m having dinner with the man of my dreams. I might only ever have this night with him. Nothing in my life ever lasts. I shouldn’t indulge in any jealousy when it comes to Roman Savage, but I don’t like the possessive way this woman looks at him. I’ve had a few sips of wine. The lightweight that I am, I already feel a small burst of bravado.

  “I should tell you something about that woman,” I say, keeping my attention fixed on him.

  His brows lift. “Oh?”

  I take a sip of my wine. “She and I used to be a thing.”

  A huff of surprise comes from his full lips. He blinks. “Really?”

  I shrug a shoulder and give him a sheepish look.

  But he recovers quickly, with a perfectly deadpanned, “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

  “It’s over now. It has been over for a long time, but she just won’t let go.”

  He shakes his head with feigned sympathy. “If I were her, I’d hang on too.”

  The woman leans over to say something to her companion, a gray-haired man, and gets to her feet. She moves across the restaurant, her gaze fixed on Roman, her lip curled with disdain. She’s got to be six feet tall.

  “Here she comes,” I whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her hurt you.”

  “Right,” he scoffs, clearly not buying my story. He gets to his feet. “Felicia, nice to see you.”

  “Roman.” She gives him a frosty smile.

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and I’m not sure if that’s because he doesn’t want to touch or kiss her, but something inside me stands up and cheers.

  “This is a surprise,” he says in a way that’s not terribly surprised.

  She turns her cold gaze to me and tilts her head, like a hawk eyeing its prey. Everything about her is perfect. Chiseled cheekbones. Full bee-sting lips. Brows arched with an unnatural curve. And the boobs. Ugh, they’re perfectly sculpted breasts, a size or three smaller than mine. This woman will never hoard bulky sweaters.

  “Felicia, this is my fiancée, Tessa.”

  I draw a sharp breath and probably stare like a total fool. He’s introducing me as his fiancée? I’m almost as shocked as she is. The woman sways and suddenly I feel a little sorry for her. I’m trying not to think about this woman and Roman as a couple, but I don’t want to humiliate her either. If the two of them were a thing, she’s got to be hurt and totally embarrassed to find him at dinner with a different woman.

  He turns to me. “Felicia’s father is a client of mine. She and I played tennis together last year. Once. In a tournament to benefit the children’s hospital.”

  He’s explaining all this to show that this woman isn’t what I’d imagined. He’s doing it in a way that’s not ugly or obvious. Or not to me, at least. Felicia looks more irritated with his explanation.

  “Doubles.” She narrows her eyes. “We were amazing together.”

  Roman shakes his head and turns to face me. “Felicia was amazing. I had nothing to do with it.”

  She smirks and returns her attention to Roman. “We should play again. Soon.”

  “Thank you, Felicia,” he says. “But if I play tennis again, I’m playing with Tessa. Singles.”

  Her mouth puckers. Her shoulders stiffen. He gave an elegant dismissal without insulting her, and I’m grateful for both her and my sake. Should I tell him that I’m the world’s worst tennis player? No. Not now. I’m not even sure if we’re talking about actual tennis.

  “It was nice to see you, Roman.” She turns to me. “Congratulations.”

  Her glance drops to my hand, to check out my ring, most likely. I’m not wearing one, obviously, but I love that she thinks I actually might be.

  “Nice to meet you, Felicia.” She sweeps away, a cloud of elegance and disdain. With a gesture, she summons her elderly companion from the table. They leave the restaurant and the moment they’re gone, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Roman returns to his seat in the booth next to me. He edges closer, brimming with restrained laughter. “Not to be rude, but I think she’s gotten over you, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Eight

  Roman

  Throughout dinner, I flirt with her and insist she order dessert. The girl can’t hold her wine. I’d like to order another bottle, or the devil on my shoulder would like to. She’s fun, and we laugh together, but I’m not plying her with liquor her first night. After a small glass, she’s slightly buzzed, but her tipsiness wears off by the time I convince her to at least share a piece of chocolate cake with me. The waiter brings a huge slice with a dollop of whipped cream on top.

  “I shouldn’t,” she murmurs, her face blooming with color.

  “And why not?”

  “I try to avoid sweets. They make me fluffy.”

  I shake my head, carve off a forkful and offer her the first bite of cake. “You’re perfect, Tessa.”

  Once I get my hands on you, I’m never letting you go…

  A shadow of vulnerability passes behind her eyes, but she lets me feed her the cake. She closes her eyes and makes a soft sound of pleasure. Lust burns through my body, laying waste to every good intention. I’d love nothing better to go all-out Viking, carry her off and spend the rest of the night devouring every inch of her body.

  I won’t, of course. Not the first night I have her in my home.

  “Dinner was lovely,” she tells me as we leave the restaurant.

  I’m about to reply, when she stops in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. She gives me a mischievous smile, pulls out her phone and holds it up to take a picture of us. I tug her into my embrace, wrapping both arms around her in a possessive gesture I can’t hold back. A soft, breathless laugh comes from her lips.

  I feel her shoulders tighten. She wants to step away, but I won’t let her. “Come on, Tessa. I held you a lot closer last night. If I was some kind of monster, you’d know by now.”

  She looks up at me, searching my eyes. I’m walking a fine line between being a domineering male who wants to protect his mate, and a man who needs to prove he’s not just trying to get laid.

  “I feel like I’m dreaming,” she says.

  I don’t move, waiting for her to say more. Fierce need burns inside me. I resist the urge to press my mouth to hers. Everything about her drives me wild. Her unguarded gaze. Her scent. The way she feels in my arms.

  She speaks softly, her voice wavering. “I’m sure that at the stroke of midnight, everything will go poof.”

  “Remember, Cinderella. You owe me. Nothing’s going poof.”

  The foyer is less busy than it was earlier, but there are still plenty of people walking around. We’re standing in the middle of the marble-encased lobby, but all I can see is her. My whole world is just this one girl. If she knew just a little bit of my fascination with her, she’d probably run from me.

  “Take the picture, Tessa. This is no dream. It’s the real thing. There’s something between you and me, and we’re going to find out how deep it is.”

  “I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

  I expected as much, but I still make a show of frowning. “All right. The storm should be arriv
ing in a few hours. If you get cold, you have an open offer to my bed.”

  Her smile falters. I’ve said too much. I cup her jaw and stroke my thumb along her cheek. “I’m teasing. Mostly. I promise to be a gentleman.”

  Dropping my arms, I release her from my hold, but take her hand in mine and lead her to the elevator. We step inside and she presses against the far wall to put some distance between us. On the way up to the penthouse, she types on her phone.

  “I’m sending that picture to Chelsea. She says I’ve gotten so boring lately.”

  I’m not sure what I think about the roommate knowing too much about Tessa staying with me. Chelsea’s caused her some trouble. She obviously doesn’t have great judgment or taste in men. But I shrug off the worry.

  “Have you become boring lately?” I ask, teasing her a little.

  She sends the text and looks up at me, sparks dancing in her eyes. “I have not become boring lately, I’ll have you know.”

  “No?”

  “No. I’ve always been boring.”

  She snickers at her own joke, making me laugh too. Contentment fills my chest as we ride the rest of the way up in amiable silence. I get a dozen invitations every week. There’s always a fundraiser or civic event. In the past, I’ve loved the glitter and glamor, but the thought of just being close to Tessa tonight makes me so fucking happy. I know she’s going to insist on staying in the guest room, but I’ll still have her nearby.

  We get off the elevator and Tessa looks at me awkwardly. I could kiss her, but I won’t just yet. I enjoy the way she shifts nervously, and I really love the way she bites her lip. If I could think of some other teasing remark, I’d make it now, but I’m too distracted by the way her teeth sink into her pillowy lower lip.

  As she wanders to the foyer table, her phone pings. She sets her purse down and reads a message, one I assume Chelsea sent. Drawing a sharp breath, she lifts a trembling hand to her mouth.