Plain Jane and the Billionaire (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Calista didn’t see the beauty of the penthouse suite. Done in white and black, accented with silver and oriental silk screens. She didn’t see the trolley filled with covered trays and a chilled bottle of wine waiting for them to partake. All of it was lost on her as she, Sunny, and Edwards closed the drapes and inspected the suite.

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  “All clear.”

  “Everyone get some rest.” Julius ordered. He took center stage in the middle of the room, commanding attention. “Harden’s gone, hopefully along with his sniper. Davien’s providing security. He has the entire floor locked down. Get some sleep and check-in in twelve hours.” It was the first time he’d taken charge, telling everyone what to do. Usually he left that to her. Tonight, correction, this morning, she was too tired to complain. The adrenaline rush had bled out of her hours ago, leaving her hollowed out.

  A long hot soak and a soft mattress was a requirement. And she needed both as soon as she got some answers.

  Saying their goodnights or good mornings, the men filed out of the suite. On the other side of the exit, she spotted two men. Scotts stopped and spoke to them, then the door closed, and she was alone with Julius.

  Perched on an arm of a chair, he watched her. He appeared as tired as she felt. Tired had to wait a couple more minutes.

  “Anything you care to share?” she asked.

  “Like what?”

  Calista wagged her finger. “Don’t be evasive. I’d rather you didn’t say shit than bob and weave around a question.” She walked to the window as if she could see anything through the curtains.

  “I’ve never been detained and interrogated by the police before. Can scratch that off my bucket list.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Before my lawyer arrived? Nothing. After my lawyer arrived. Less than nothing.”

  She got stuck on his lawyer. “Your lawyer was in Vegas?”

  “My lawyer called in a favor and sent an associate from a local firm to pinch-hit at a hefty price.” His shoulders lifted and sank wearily. “Anyway, I didn’t lie to the pleasant detective. One second I was talking to Davien and Harden, the next…”

  She was there and didn’t need a recap. “The meeting you had. What was that about?”

  “Harden staying the fuck away from everyone and handling his shit.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she grumbled, then exhaled a protracted sigh, her entire body got into it. Regardless of friendship, Harden needed to stay away permanently. It was just her opinion but hanging around a friend when they’re being used for target practice was stupid. Harden needed to handle his shit. If that meant going into hiding while the rest of the world continued spinning, so be it.

  “Are you hungry? Have you eaten?” Julius asked. She didn’t miss the diversion and didn’t call him on it.

  She nodded once. “Sheikh Davien is an excellent host. His staff provided everything we needed.”

  “I’ll tell him that.”

  Enough with the small talk. “You’re alive. I’m alive. Everyone is alive. I’m going to bed.”

  He stopped her with a touch to her arm. She stiffened and met his concerned gaze. With her emotions about to burst out of her skin, it was too much. She couldn’t do it, not yet. Yanking away, she headed to the bedroom she’d claimed at the opposite end of the suite.

  Leaving him alone in the living room wasn’t easy. All the stress of the day coalesced into a lead ball of tension wedged in her gut. Downtime, by herself, a long soak, a glass of wine, and her vibrator usually helped her decompress. The wine she couldn’t have because she needed to stay sharp, because even if Harden went into seclusion, the danger was still out there. Besides, it was too damn early, even after the night she’d had, and the vibrator was in Queens. The long soak would have to do.

  Kicking off her shoes and peeling off the suit she’d worn way too long removed fifty pounds from her tight shoulders. At least it seemed that way as she waited for the bathtub to fill. A splash of bath oil and the scent of gardenias filled the room. The gun went on the bathroom counter while the rest of her clothes were stripped quickly. Davien promised his personal shopper would provide new wardrobes for all of them since this trip was supposed to be a quick in and out, not an overnight stay and a shootout. All their suitcases remained on the private jet.

  She slipped on an ultra-soft silk robe supplied by the hotel and went to the window with a view of the desert. Tired, but alert, her brain kept skimming the details she’d gathered while waiting for Julius’ release. The gunfire was precise. Whomever fired wanted Harden only. When that failed, they sprayed the room, collateral damage be damned. The longer the situation continued, the more desperate they became.

  And the more vicious Harden would become. New York City wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen.

  The bedroom door opened, and she spun. Julius entered the room—shirtless—as if he owned the room. No polite knock. No waiting for permission. She turned back to the window, relief mixed with annoyance waring within.

  Relief she decided when his arms circled her waist and eased her back into his hard body. Tension bled away as he simply held her. No words, just companionship. They stayed like that for a while, bathed in sunlight and silence.

  “I debated coming to you,” he murmured into her neck. “Trying to sleep without you next to me is pointless.”

  His breath on her neck, his words in her ear, both weakened her knees. “You need to decompress. Like me, you do it alone.” He didn’t want to be alone, and truth be told, neither did she.

  “I don’t want to be alone, Calista.”

  The soft words seeped beneath her skin, into her muscles and bones, struck a cord within her until she hummed. “I don’t want to be alone either.”

  He opened her robe and stripped it from her shoulders. The silk fluttered to the floor, discarded. She waited for his touch, anticipated his fingers on her flesh, but he swept her off her feet as if she were a feather. Never in her life had she felt dainty, until Julius. He carried her to the bathroom and lowered her into the warm water. Heat seeped into her skin, from the water and from watching Julius unbuckle, unsnap, unzip, and shove his pants and underwear down his legs.

  He was tall, six four, which was perfect for her, and on the lean side with corded instead of the bunched muscles gym rats sported. Broad shoulders, defined pecs, washboard abs. A Scar marred the skin below his right collarbone from some previous skirmish she knew nothing about. Another scar decorated his skin mid-chest on the right side from the chest tube that drained the blood from his lungs. The second bullet didn’t cause an exit wound. It stayed and was removed with his kidney. He could’ve died. The fact that he lived and had recovered so quickly was a miracle, which she appreciated. Otherwise, this interlude—her in a bathtub, pussy slick from her juices, not the water, because her gaze had locked on his erection—would never have happened.

  That erection, Lord, was thick and long and hard and fucking perfect. Her mouth watered. Calista wanted to taste him, lick him, bury him at the back of her throat. She wanted it all…with him, Julius Morgan.

  She slid forward, allowing him to settle behind her. The tub was large for one person, and a snug fit for two. They made it work. He pulled her into his arms, onto his lap. Water swirled around them. He made short work of her hair, removing the pins, unraveling the bun, and spreading wavy strands over her shoulders. Later, it would be an unruly mess, yet, as his fingers stroked her scalp, she couldn’t care less. The knot in her gut unfurled along with every bit of tension gathered in her muscles. Limp, she lay against his sheltering body.

  “You and Rhodes?”

  Three words shattered her serenity. After their public confrontation in the gambling suite, she had to expect his questions. Julius would be an idiot to not have a list.

  “What do you want to know?”

  His hands glided over her shoulders, rough yet soft at the same time. “Are you lovers?” />
  Should she say this to his face? His hands continued their slow slip and slide routine to her breasts. She had nothing to hide. “Until six months ago, we were friends with benefits. We had sex, scratched an itch when the need arose.”

  His hand remained relaxed though the rest of him tensed. “How often did the need arise?” He brushed her nipples, back and forth teasing, while discussing another man. Odd dichotomy.

  “Why is that important?”

  His palms stroked over her pert nipples. “Ease my curiosity and answer the question.”

  Men and their need to know. “Every few weeks.” She tossed out with a shrug of her shoulders, pissed at where this was going. Then she remembered his visit a few weeks ago. They hadn’t slept together. Almost calling out Julius’ name snuffed any desire she had for Rhodes. That encounter did not count.

  “It’s not like I kept count; Rhodes and I were not an item. We were an every now and then when the opportunity presented itself thing,” she snapped and shifted away from him. Though she couldn’t go far in a bathtub.

  He yanked her back. She didn’t protest because she loved the connection, his wet skin against her wet skin. “One question remains.”

  She stifled her annoyance, and said, “And what would that be?”

  “Did you love him?”

  This time he allowed her to spin as much as she could in the tight confines to meet his neutral gaze. She had a bird’s eye view of his five o’clock shadow along his angular jaw and his firm lips. He didn’t fool her. There was only one reason to ask that question. And yeah, she felt the same.

  Calista captured his face in her wet hands. “I never loved him—”

  His gaze narrowed, went flinty. “But he loved you. It’s the only reason a man would make a spectacle of himself, leave himself open to speculation and ridicule as he did last night. He loves you, Calista.”

  “And I didn’t love him.” Her hands dropped from his face. “If you’re asking if I led him on—”

  “No.” His hand landed on her neck, his thumb traced her jaw. “I… understand his pain. Though I don’t want to.”

  The words were there, unspoken but written between the lines and it hurt. “You don’t want to. Okay.” What else could she say while naked in a bathtub with him.

  “But it’s too late for that. I’m already there, baby.” He dragged her to him. His kiss was hungry, consuming. The words he hadn’t spoken were there with every sweep of his tongue, every nibble of his teeth. Losing her, she was losing her heart, her body, and her soul to Julius Morgan. Their breaths mingling in each other’s lungs, fusing them together on a deeper level.

  Suddenly, she wrenched herself away. “What about you?” She panted.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Anyone in your past I need to be concerned about?” Did she need to bring up Carolyn and her hospital visit?

  He kissed her again, slowly, drugging her. “No one.”

  “No one?” In the time they’d been together, Carolyn was the only woman to make an appearance. Which meant nothing whether the man was a billionaire or a janitor.

  His head dropped down to hers. Forehead to forehead, he whispered as if they were in a stadium full of people, for her alone. “There’s only you, Calista. Only. You.”

  His hand glided down her back and those strong arms tightened, and suddenly it was them, not her against the world, but them. Julius and Calista together. Hearts synching, beating as one voice. It was stupid, an irrational fantasy, yet she’d never felt safer or more loved. Doubts fled under the sweet onslaught of his taste on her tongue and her unraveling will.

  He deepened the connection, his tongue dancing between her lips, plying her mouth with nips of his teeth and strokes of his tongue. She opened for him, giving him complete access.

  His fingers threaded through her hair to gather the length together and gently pull until her head tipped back, exposing her throat to his wet tongue and soft kisses. She moaned as he blazed a torrid trail to the dip between her collarbone.

  She was on fire and he hadn’t gotten to the best parts.

  “Every part of you is as sweet as your skin.” He captured her earlobe between his teeth and slowly released it with a lick.

  Pleasure raced down her spine and landed between her legs. “Julius,” she moaned, holding his head close. “Bed.”

  “No.” Hard fingers dug into her hips as he shifted her body. Suddenly he was there, hard and urgent between her thighs, nudging her folds apart, at her core, merging their bodies together. Her pussy fluttered around him in welcome.

  He squeezed a dollop of shower gel in his palms and he started at her shoulders, his hands slick and soapy traveled to her breasts. Her nipples, already stiff and bobbing at the surface of the water, he sought them out, to tease, to torture, to pluck, to pinch. He rolled her nipples roughly between his fingers. Laying against him, completely at his mercy, he rocked, moving his cock inside her. But not enough, not enough to ease the ache, the heat, the lust spiking her blood.

  “Julius,” she growled, unaccustomed to waiting for her pleasure.

  “No.”

  His hands parted the water to sweep down her stomach to where they were joined. A single finger circled her clit, so close yet seemed a mile away. Circling. Circling. She tried to bring her legs together to create much needed friction. A sharp pinch to her inner thigh caused her to yelp. Unsure whether she disliked this version of Julius, she kept her legs open and her mouth open, panting because she wanted more. Whatever he had to give. She wanted it. Wanted it all.

  “Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Can I stay in you all night?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. “As long as you make me come. Make me come, baby. Make me explode. Please.”

  He gripped her hips, lifted her partly off his cock and drilled into her, the water choppy, spilling over the side of the tub. Holding onto the rim, she leaned forward, arched her back. He slammed into her, over and over again.

  Unexpectedly, he fisted her hair and yanked her back into his body. Breathing hard, he licked up her neck and growled against her skin. One hand pressed between her thighs, found her clit and pinched. Her core clenched and a sweet ripple spread outward, a precursor to her flying apart. He ground into her, so deep, so hard. Each flex of his hips filled her completely.

  “I’m coming.”

  “No,” he rasped, his voice sandpaper against her sensitive nerves. He pulled free of her body, left her sputtering at the loss, until he manhandled her body around in the tight confines of the tub. Water went everywhere and they couldn’t care less about flooding the bathroom, hell flooding Vegas. None of it mattered. No one had ever handled her that way and damn she loved it, loved the way he took control, positioning her the way he wanted. Taking her the way he wanted. She wanted to come on his cock and never stop.

  “I need to see you when you come.”

  Yes!

  Roughly, he spread her apart, draped her legs over the rim of the tub, and lifted her ass. She had a choice, hold on or drown. She grabbed onto the rim and held on as he plunged into her depths again and again, bottoming out, grinding hard on the down stroke. Their bodies crashed together, sloshing water. Her pussy clenched and a shudder ran from her toes to her fingertips.

  “You there, Cali?”

  Oh God! She was close. So damn close. Then, his fingers danced over her clit. She exploded, a keening cry falling from her lips as she came undone, hips jerking, back arching. His thrusts harder than before, deeper than ever. “That’s it, Calista.” He grunted.

  Exquisite torture ripped from her core. She cried out as time stretched with each clenching wave of her pussy around his plunging cock. “Jesus, you know how good you feel?”

  “No. I know how good you feel.” She sobbed brokenly. He fucked her through the orgasm, kicking off another round of clenching in her core.

  Julius hauled her out of the water. Pretzeled with her legs on his shoulders and his arms holding her aloft, he nipped her lips, soothed th
e burn with a lick and a kiss, all the while, he was buried as deep as he could, his hips slamming into her.

  Mind, body, and heart was open to him. All of her was here for him to do as he pleased. He ate at her mouth, his tongue as aggressive as the cock owning her. He jerked away, a sharp hiss, a grimace, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Heavy-lidded, face slack in passion, he swelled within her core. Muscles straining, a husky roar ripped from his mouth and his cock kicked within her walls. In hot spurts, he bathed her insides.

  With soft kisses to her shoulder, her neck, the slow glide of his lips against her, they took their time unraveling their limbs. The loss of him inside her body left an emptiness in her heart. She had never felt like this. She wasn’t falling in love with him. She was already there.

  “I love you.” She couldn’t keep the words inside. They had to come out. Whispered so low, maybe he hadn’t heard. Maybe the words slipped into the air and floated away unheard saving her the—

  “I love you too.”

  And that’s all there was to say. Nothing else was necessary.

  The water cooled around them and his kisses slowed. His touch, the glide of his hands over her, down her back, over her hips to her ass and back again, continued as if he couldn’t get enough. She couldn’t get enough of him either.

  What did this mean? She’d never needed a label. But now, she wanted one, though she refused to ask. That was just too needy, and she wasn’t that girl to ask a man to tell her what they are. This wasn’t middle school passing notes: Check box A if you want to be my boyfriend. Check box B if you don’t want to be my boyfriend.

  Together, they stepped from the tub. Gently, he patted her dry and led her into the bedroom. Together, they crawled into the king-size bed and slid between the Egyptian cotton sheets. At the same time, they reached for each other. Limbs entwined, head pillowed on his chest, Calista had never been more content in her life, and more afraid. In the end, “I love you,” were just three words. Intent mattered. Did she have what it took to follow through? Did he?

  I love you. Everyone knew it didn’t mean the same thing when spoken in the heat of passion. But he said… After she said.