Billionaire Body Heat

by Sasha Gold

  I cross the room, gather her in my arms, and kiss her. She has to grab the towel on her head to keep it from falling, but she returns the kiss. Instantly my body responds to her. Lust burns through my veins. I can barely keep myself from lifting her into my arms and carrying her back to bed. Last night she wanted to touch me, make me come, but I didn’t like the idea of her being in pain. I break the kiss, before I lose control.

  “Let me make you breakfast.”

  My voice is gruff, but if she notices, she doesn’t let on.

  Reluctantly, I step away from her and return to the kitchen. Soon I have bacon sizzling in a pan, and eggs frying, sunny-side up, in another. Tessa leans one hip against the counter, sips coffee and watches me.

  I smile. “Am I doing it right?”

  “You’re doing great. You’re a natural.”

  We sit together, side-by-side at the bar in my kitchen and eat breakfast. It’s a gorgeous, sunny day. Light streams through the windows, everything blanketed in snow below. She sits in my robe, her hair wet and tousled, face without any makeup. She’s so beautiful that I have to force myself to keep from staring.

  I notice how she keeps the conversation light and focused directly on a subject matter she knows and enjoys. Food. We debate everything and agree on nothing. Proper chili should have beans, according to Tessa. Some chili can even be made with beans and green tomatoes. I shake my head, feigning horror.

  “Green chili? I don’t know about that, sweetheart.”

  After breakfast, she gets a text message from Jim Thomas at the Com Center. They haven’t been able to get anyone to sign up for the dinner shift. He wants to know if she can come help. I want to toss her phone out the window, let if fall into a snowdrift thirty stories down, because when it comes to sharing Tessa, I’m a selfish bastard.

  Our family has given them money in the past. Checks with lots of zeroes. But that doesn’t mean I want to let Tessa go. The city is mostly shut down, I reason. She probably wouldn’t be able to get there anyway.

  “I wonder if I can find out if the buses are running,” she murmurs as she scrolls through newsfeeds.

  “What makes you think I’ll let you go?”

  Without looking up, she laughs like I’m being hilarious. She’s certain I wouldn’t keep her from helping, and I won’t, but I realize how much I want her all to myself. With a growl, I get to my feet and wander to the window. The snowplows are out already which means the major roads are either clear or will be soon.

  “The buses are running between noon and nine. I should be able to get done before the last bus.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  Her brows lift. Her jaw drops. “Really?”

  “Really. I’ll help you. I don’t want you there by yourself or short-staffed.”

  Her eyes sparkle. “Roman, I don’t know what to say. That’s so sweet.”

  Sweet? I’m not being sweet, but if she wants to think so, I won’t try to change her mind. Over the course of the day, we watch a movie, eat lunch. Joke and laugh. Almost have a serious make-out session in the kitchen and elevator, but she manages to keep everything low-key. I see the retreat in her eyes. I’m not going to seduce her till she’s healed anyway, so I manage to hold back. If only to save my own sanity.

  As mid-afternoon approaches, there aren’t any further updates from Thomas. It looks like it’s just me and Tessa on KP, so I call Damon and Claire. I tell them the situation and that I need their help. Both are aware of my obsession with Tessa and had a pretty good idea I’d make her mine at some point, but neither of them expected to get roped into her volunteer efforts. Damon agrees almost immediately. Which should worry me. Claire grumbles but finally relents. She loves the Com Center, but her volunteerism revolves around art museums.

  We take the elevator down to the garage.

  “I don’t know anything about cooking for a crowd,” I tell her. “Unless it’s bacon and eggs.”

  Taking her hand, I lead her to my truck. I use this vehicle when we’ve had a snowstorm. The tires are bigger than most truck tires, and a special tread that’s made to handle the worst conditions. Since the truck is jacked up, I need to help Tessa into the cab.

  At first, I hold out my hands, but she brushes them away. “I can do it.”

  I stand back, arms folded and watch as she tries to climb up. After a few minutes of watching her legs kick with futile attempts to find a foothold, I simply take matters into my own hands. Literally. I grab her hips and give her a boost.

  “You need to install a ladder for this thing,” she grumbles as we pull out of the garage.

  We drive to the Com Center, and even though we have to turn around a few times because of road closures, we make the trip in about twenty minutes. When we get there, Damon and Claire meet us at the side door. Claire worked here with her student council back in high school, but Damon’s never been here before. He’s got a certain look in his eye, one that says you owe me.

  I introduce both of them to Tessa who hangs back, shyly.

  “If my brother’s being a dick to you, I’d be happy to kick his ass,” Damon offers.

  Tessa blinks in surprise and takes a few steps back. Damon has that effect on people. At six-four, he’s the same height as me, but he’s a lot rougher looking. He prides himself as being a bad-ass Marine and mocks my four years in the Air Force. On top of that he’s got a lot of ink and his tats make him look like he might run a street gang. He likes the look and claims it adds to his street cred.

  That may be, but it’s not working for Tessa. She gives me a look of alarm.

  Claire laughs at her dismay. “Ignore them. That’s what I do.”

  My sister hugs her and I see Tessa’s shoulders lower an inch or two.

  As they step back, Claire’s gaze falls to Tessa’s ring and she shrieks. Her good-natured demeanor drops. She shoots me a look of outrage and then grabs Tessa’s hand.

  “Holy shitballs, when did this happen?”

  Tessa bites her lip as she looks down at the ring. The color drains from her face. “I should have left this at home.”

  I hold out my hand. “Give it to me.”

  She takes it off and hands it to me. Glancing around sheepishly, she mutters under her breath. “I’ve never had anything like that before.”

  “It looks pretty on you,” Claire offers. “I can’t wait to hear about all this. But let’s get to work so we can take care of your peeps before we talk about the big day.”

  Tessa gives a breathless laugh. “Right, time to get to work.”

  She leads us inside to the volunteer sign-in table, and then into the kitchen. It’s empty. No one is there, and it doesn’t look like anything has been done. Damon looks around, his hands in his pockets, looking as out of place as I feel. Claire sets right to work, though, taking our coats and handing out aprons.

  Damon glares at me as he ties the strings around his waist. He’s barely talking to me anyway, because I assigned him to a bodyguard detail. He’s not happy with me, but that’s too bad.

  “We have two hours to get dinner and dessert ready,” Tessa announces.

  “Is that enough time to make something decent?” Claire asks.

  Tessa smiles. “It will be better than decent. You’ll see.”

  Over the next two hours, I watch as Tessa takes command of the kitchen. Damon’s in charge of salad. The lettuce comes in bags, but Tessa has him add in extras like cucumber and shredded carrot. I’m in charge of making sauce for the barbeque chicken.

  “You make your sauce from scratch?” Claire asks as she sautés several pounds of onions. “You know you can buy already made?”

  “I know,” Tessa says. “But it’s better from scratch.”

  When Damon and Claire aren’t paying attention, I come up behind Tessa, wrap my arm around her waist and kiss her neck. “I like being in the kitchen with my woman.”

  She smiles and her cheeks pink. A short while later I make her blush again. She’s showing me how to ice a sheet cake
. I put a big scoop in a disposable coffee cup, snap a lid on and set it aside.

  “I want to take some of this white icing home,” I tell her.

  “White icing.” She snickers. “It’s called buttercream.”

  “I’m going to ice my favorite dessert when I get home with this buttercream.”

  “There will probably be leftover cake, if you want.”

  I shake my head, checking to make sure Damon and Claire are out of earshot. “I prefer eating my dessert at home.”

  Her smile falters as her gaze drifts from me to the cup of icing and back again. “At home…”

  “That’s right. I want to enjoy my dessert in my bedroom.”

  “Dessert in your bedroom…”

  I lean down to whisper in her ear. “I want my dessert tied to my headboard while I lick the buttercream from her body.”

  Her mouth falls open and her cheeks flame crimson.

  “Hey, quit flirting, you two,” Claire yells from the other side of the kitchen.

  After that, Tessa blushes every time I catch her eye. I’m sure she’s trying to avoid me to keep from getting flustered. She runs the kitchen with calm and precision. I’ve never seen food preparation on this scale. Fifty pounds of chicken takes up a lot of oven space. I help her load the pans into the hot oven and soon the aroma of the chicken baking with the savory sauce fills the air.

  By five twenty, the food is ready to go. Tessa and Claire slice the cake into squares and set it out on plates. Damon eyes the food hungrily, but Claire shoos him away. At precisely five thirty, Tessa opens the doors to the cafeteria, and dinner for a hundred is officially underway.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tessa

  Roman’s filthy words about tying me to his headboard do a number on my nerves for the rest of the evening. I try to avoid his sultry gaze, and succeed for the most part, but every so often, he catches my eye, and his message is clear. He has plans for me. By the time we’ve served dinner, my hands are shaking.

  I’d meant to plate servings of the dinner for the four of us, but some of the clients come back for seconds and I serve the last of everything by the end of the evening. Roman solves the dilemma by taking us out to eat at a little Italian trattoria downtown.

  Over dinner, Roman takes my hand and slides the ring back on my finger. Claire sighs. Damon looks incredulous.

  “Who would have thought it?” Claire says.

  Damon stares at the ring for a long moment. “Not me.”

  “Tessa and I were meant for each other,” Roman says, smiling at me. “It was fate.”

  Warmth washes over me. No one in my life has ever looked at me the way he does. I want to believe everything about this, but part of me can’t let go of my doubt. I’ve never had anyone want me like he seems to want me. I’m afraid that I’ll wake up and this will all be just a dream. I’ll still be alone, but the dream will have shown me exactly what I can’t have. What will never be mine.

  Over dinner, Claire talks excitedly about a wedding she went to a few weeks ago at a nearby boutique hotel. I don’t know what a boutique hotel is, but I don’t want to ask. If Chelsea were here, I could get the scoop from her without feeling stupid. With a jolt, I realize that I haven’t spoken to her since I got the text from Brendon.

  While everyone orders dessert, I grab my phone and unblock her number, but turn the volume off. I worry if she’s okay. If she and Brendon got into an argument, there wouldn’t be anyone there to stick up for Chelsea.

  As we get up to leave, I check my phone again. I’d fretted that there would be a hundred missed calls in the last half-hour. My imagination paints all sorts of terrible scenarios, of Chelsea hurt or in the hospital. But there aren’t any calls from her, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Tessa, you and I should go check out Le Rev,” Claire says as we step outside. “We could talk to their caterer and set a date.”

  “Isn’t the groom supposed to be involved?” Roman asks.

  “Yeah, sounds like a good time,” Damon scoffs. “Can I come?”

  Claire ignores her brothers, not missing a beat. “In fact, I could pick you up, and we could go for a girls’ lunch. It would be so much fun.”

  Roman and I walk, hand in hand, with Damon and Claire beside us. Suddenly, Roman tightens his grip and pulls me back. A man materializes from the shadows.

  “And I know the best little dress shop,” Claire adds. Just as she’s about to tell us about the shop, Damon shoves her behind him.

  “The fuck,” he growls when another man steps into the shadows.

  “What do you want?” Roman asks.

  The first man steps into the light of a streetlamp and his companion follows. My breath freezes inside my chest. It’s Brendon with a man I don’t recognize, a guy that’s every bit as repulsive. Both look disheveled and have a wild, crazed look in their eye.

  “I followed you from the Com Center, you little cunt.”

  Roman releases my hand, and steps closer. “You don’t talk to her. If you have something to say, you say it to me.”

  “Oh, heck, that’s Brendon,” Claire mutters.

  It dawns on me that Claire and Damon and Roman have known the details of my life for quite a while. I’m shocked, but my mind isn’t exactly working as quickly as it usually does. Brendon’s come to cause trouble. He looks wasted and so does his friend.

  “Chelsea left me,” Brendon snarls. “And she said it was because you told her I wasn’t good enough for her.”

  My skin prickles. My mouth is dry and my throat tight. I think about Chelsea. She’s a mess. She might not even be a great friend, but I understand why. She’s gotten used by every guy she’s ever gone out with. She thinks she doesn’t deserve better and something inside me wants to hurt Brendon and every other guy who treated Chelsea like an easy target.

  Another man appears from the shadows, a smaller version of Brendon and his friend, with a glassier, even more deranged look in his eye. His shoulder jerks as he walks, like it’s attached to a string that someone’s yanking each time he takes a step. The three men look like something out of a nightmare.

  The rage inside me wars with a terrifying foreboding.

  I’m just waiting for one of them to pull a weapon.

  Roman slips off his jacket and holds it out for me to take. I hold it to my chest. Brendon’s two companions stare at Roman as if it’s just now dawning on them how big he is. They take a few steps back. Distantly, I hear Claire on the phone calling 911 and speaking to an operator.

  The two companions hear her too and step back into the shadows.

  Go away, Brendon. Go away…

  I’m trying to will him to leave with his friends, if they are, in fact, leaving. Brendon glances over his shoulder and grimaces. Brendon is alone now, but he’s not backing down.

  “Why did you have to go tell Chelsea shit about me, Tessa?” His voice is an octave higher than normal. He laughs.

  “He’s high on something,” Damon mutters.

  But Roman isn’t paying attention. He narrows the distance between him and Brendon. His hands flex and curl into fists. “You hurt her.”

  “Bitch had it coming.”

  Roman moves closer to Brendon, stopping a few paces away.

  I want to scream out. Urge him to get away.

  Brendon scoffs. He lunges, aiming his fist at Roman’s face. Roman steps to the side and shakes his head.

  Roman circles Brendon. “Tell her you’re sorry. You won’t do it again and you’re leaving town in the morning.”

  Brendon screws up his face with confusion. “Not happening, motherfucker.”

  The two men appear once more, this time carrying baseball bats. The sound of distant sirens floats in the air. Damon mutters a soft curse. Roman follows with a few words about amateurs. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. The baseball bats make my blood run cold but both Damon and Roman seem to be amused.

  Brendon lurches forward.

  Roman’s fist shoots out,
connects with Brendon’s jaw, and Brendon collapses to the ground. His head hits the concrete with a hideous crack. He doesn’t move. Damon’s beside Roman almost immediately. Brendon’s thugs raise their bats, but neither has a chance to use their weapons. Both Damon and Roman make short work of them, and an instant later, three men lay sprawled on the ground. None of them move.

  Both Damon and Roman seethe with anger, but Claire looks at me with an expression that’s almost bored. She shrugs a shoulder and a smile curves her lips.

  “Welcome to the family.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roman

  After we’ve given the police a statement, I take Tessa home. We drive mostly in silence until we get to the apartment. When we step out of the elevator, she gets a message from her friend, Chelsea. She texted to say that Brendon had said a lot of shit about Tessa, and Chelsea called it off.

  This just makes me more pissed. The fucker folded like a house of cards and I would have liked to inflict a little more pain before he passed out.

  Tessa sets the phone down on the counter. Her hand is shaking. She looks at me with wide, frightened eyes. I’m not sure if she’s afraid of me, or still traumatized by getting jumped by Brendon and his friends. The look in her eyes sends a stab of rage through my mind.

  I want to hold her, but I can barely trust myself to be in the same room with her. Keeping my distance from her was making me half-crazed before I fought this evening. Now, I’m afraid that if I touch her, the last of my self-control is going to snap. Powerful and primitive emotions tear at my restraint. I want to protect her. I want to push her against the wall, rip off her clothes and sink into her tight innocence.

  “I’m going to go for a run.” My voice, rough with raw need, startles her. “I need to burn off a little energy.”

  “It’s twenty-five degrees outside.”

  “Good.” I cross the room, toss my coat to the couch and head to the bedroom.

  She follows, her tentative footsteps echoing on the marble floor. I go to my closet, tear my shirt over my head without bothering to undo any of the buttons. I take off my belt and with a glance over my shoulder, I see her in the doorway, watching me.