The Billionaire in Her Bed (Worthington Family)

by Regina Kyle

  An endearing wrinkle creased her forehead. He resisted the urge to kiss it away. How a woman could be adorable and alluring at the same time was beyond him, but the combination was turning out to be his Kryptonite.

  “A repeat performance. And if it’s not to your satisfaction…” He dropped his voice to a deliberately seductive purr on the last word, not above playing on the double entendre. “I’ll walk away. No questions asked.”

  She pulled back as much as she could with the counter behind her and let out a long, regretful breath that hovered between them. For a moment, he thought he’d lost the battle, and he steeled himself to admit defeat. Then she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and met his heated gaze.

  “Challenge accepted.”

  Chapter Six

  Eli didn’t waste any time, swooping in the second Brooke agreed to his ridiculous, risqué proposal and claiming her mouth. She was as needy and greedy, digging her fingers into the soft cotton of his Henley and pulling him forward.

  Her brain might be able to list a hundred reasons why this was wrong. But all her body knew was that it felt oh so right.

  With her surrender complete, Eli took full advantage, coaxing her lips apart and sweeping the inside of her mouth with his tongue. He slipped one hand into her hair, undoing her artfully messy topknot and gently tugging her head back so he could deepen their kiss. The other one slid under her knee and lifted her leg, wrapping it around his hip.

  “I do have a bed,” she panted when he finally released her mouth to trace a hot, wet trail along her jaw to her ear.

  “We’ll get there.” He nipped the lobe, making her gasp. “Eventually.”

  The gasp morphed into a full-out moan as he drew the sensitive skin behind her ear into his mouth. “It’s always hurry up and wait with you.”

  “More like slow down and enjoy the scenery.”

  He pulled back to study her, his normally bright eyes dark and heavy-lidded. The sudden loss of his lips on her skin made her desperate with desire, burning from the inside out.

  “So I’m the scenery?” she asked.

  He nodded. His eyes flicked from her free-flowing hair to her breasts, nipples straining against her knit dress, past her hips, down her legs in her thigh-hugging boots, then back again. “And the scenery’s wearing far too much clothing.”

  The inferno inside her flared hotter. “You don’t say.”

  “I do.” He slid his hands down her body and reached for the hem of her dress, inching it up her thighs. “I prefer the raw, unspoiled beauty of nature.”

  She lifted her arms over her head, letting him peel off the offending garment. He dropped it to the floor, and she stood before him in her boots, bra, and panties. She bent to unzip one of the boots, but he put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

  “Keep them on,” he rumbled in her ear. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you in those boots from the second I walked in the door.”

  “Really?” She rose slowly until her punch-drunk gaze met his. “No wonder it took you so long to fix the sink.”

  “Did not.” He snaked a hand around her back and skillfully released the clasp of her bra.

  She dropped her shoulders. The straps slithered down her arms, and the scrap of lavender lace and silk landed at her feet, leaving her bare breasts on display. “Did, too.”

  “Not.” He closed his fingers around the waistband of her panties and dragged them down her legs, over the boots.

  She lifted one foot, then the other, stepping out of her underwear and kicking them to the side. “Too.”

  Eli hoisted her up onto the counter and spread her legs, fitting himself between them and silencing her with another hard, fast kiss. “Enough talk. Time for some action.”

  Brooke held up a hand. “Not so fast, hotshot.”

  He took a slight step back, his face a frustrated mix of lust and confusion. “Now who’s trying to slow things down?”

  “One of us is still overdressed.” She waved a hand up and down his fine but fully clothed form.

  “That’s easily remedied.”

  He whipped off his Henley, treating her to an eyeful of rippling pecs and washboard abs, kicked off his shoes, and went to work on his jeans. She almost told him to stop so she could finish the job herself, but she was too eager to see him, to touch him, to have his mouth back on hers and his hands on her breasts, teasing her aching nipples into points.

  “There,” he said when he was fully, gloriously naked and had reclaimed his rightful place between her legs. “Satisfied?”

  “I will be.” Her eyes strayed to his already impressive erection, standing stiff and proud against his flat stomach, and she licked her lips. Satisfied was putting it mildly. She willed her gaze back to his face. “You promised, remember? Or you’ll walk away without any questions.”

  He flashed her his trademark cocky, panty-melting grin, obviously amused and flattered by her unabashed ogling. “Then I’d better deliver. Because I don’t have any intention of walking away from you anytime soon.”

  Within seconds, his mouth was on her again. This time, he bypassed her lips for the tender flesh of her breast, his tongue sliding warm and wet over the creamy mound to her nipple. She cried out and arched into him, grabbing on to his broad shoulders for support. He rewarded her with a scrape of his teeth before sucking her nipple into his mouth.

  She clawed at his upper arms, her fingernails marking his skin as she writhed against him. It was good, so damn good, but she wanted—needed—more.

  “More, huh?” He smiled against her damp skin. Her inner monologue had escaped again, but she didn’t mind one damn bit, not if it meant he’d give her what she was asking for. Wasn’t that the point of all those Cosmo articles about how to communicate in bed? “Like this?”

  His hand ghosted over her abdomen until he cupped her sex. One long finger slipped between her folds, brushing her swollen clit. She gasped and pulled one knee up to her chest, planting her boot flat on the countertop and giving him an all-access pass to her privates.

  “Still not enough?” he taunted, wagging a brow at her blatant invitation. “How about this?”

  Without warning, he dropped to his knees and buried his head between her legs. His tongue teased her with slow, agonizing circles, avoiding the spot where she needed him most.

  Brooke moaned and let her legs fall farther apart. Her entire world had narrowed to his mouth and the magic it was working on her body. She closed her eyes, and her head dropped back, smacking the cabinet behind her. Her eyes flew open, and her mouth twisted into a grimace. “Ouch.”

  Eli raised his head. “Are you…?”

  She fisted her hands in his hair and pulled him back to her, silencing him. “I’m fine. Better than fine. Don’t you dare stop.”

  He smiled against her as she squirmed to meet his elusive tongue. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He resumed his onslaught with renewed vigor. God, how she’d missed this. Not the subtle scrape of tongue against flesh, the gentle suction of lips on her. Okay, so she’d missed that. A lot. But more she’d missed the closeness, the intimacy that came with sex. At least with good sex. And this was better than good sex. It was mind-altering, body-tingling, soul-melting sex.

  In less time than she wanted to admit, Eli had her tumbling over the edge into oblivion. He stayed with her as she bucked and writhed with pleasure. Only when the last tremor had subsided did he release her and look up her body. The cocky grin was back.

  “Mission accomplished. You look damn good and satisfied to me.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” She glanced down at his erection, still stiff and ready for action. “But what about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” He rose slowly and found his jeans on the floor behind him. Her heart sank and she grabbed the lip of the counter in a white-knuckle grip. Was that it? Had he won their little bet to prove a point, and now he was walking away?

  Then he pulled out his wallet, took out a condom, and t
ore it open. With swift, sure moves he sheathed himself. Her girly bits sprang to life again at the sight of his smooth, strong fingers rolling the rubber down his shaft. They tingled faster when he stepped back between her waiting thighs and ran a hand along the soft suede of one of her boots. “My fantasy is about to come true. Having you beneath me in nothing but these sinfully sexy shoes.”

  …

  Eli had always prided himself on being in control at all times. Whether it was in the boardroom or the bedroom, he never let his emotions get the best of him.

  Until Brooke.

  That night at the bar, he hadn’t been able to resist her. And it had been hell on earth sleeping a few feet down the hall from her without banging down her door and screwing her senseless. Now that he had her spread out in front of him in those infernal boots, her hair in loose, wild waves about her face, her eyes wide, and her plump lips slightly parted and begging to be kissed, the odds of him staying cool and in command were about as good as his chance of buying Central Park from the city of New York and turning it into a parking lot.

  He guided his cock to her entrance, rubbing the tip through her wet heat. One thrust and he’d be inside her, enveloped in all that delicious warmth. Holding back was torture, pure and simple. “Tell me you’re ready for this.”

  “I am.” She lifted her hips to meet him, as if to prove her point. “Please.”

  That was all the encouragement he needed. He entered her, hard and fast, no pretense of gentleness. There would be time for sweet and slow later. This was the time for hot-and-heavy, wall-banging, piss-off-the-neighbors sex. Which was fine, because Charise was spending a couple of days with her baby daddy’s family in New Jersey, and he was Brooke’s next closest neighbor.

  And he certainly wasn’t complaining.

  “Fuck.” He ground the word out through clenched teeth and started to move. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he pushed in as far as he could, filling her completely.

  She let out a sharp hiss of breath but stayed with him all the way, her arms coming up to loop around his neck. He grabbed the edge of the counter on either side of her shapely hips and pounded into her, his thrusts growing faster, wilder with each encouraging moan from her lips.

  “I can’t wait much longer,” he said between heavy breaths.

  “Don’t,” she coaxed him, her husky voice dripping with lust, almost finishing him off. “Let go.”

  He closed his eyes and tried to think of absorption rates and environmental impact statements. “You first.”

  Her fingers tangled in his hair, and her mouth curved into a seductive smile that tugged at him, balls-deep. “I already crossed the finish line, remember?”

  As if he could forget the sight of her coming apart beneath him, her head thrust back, eyes closed, mouth in a perfect, ecstatic “O.” She wrecked him, this woman, in a way no other had. He didn’t understand it, didn’t know how or why she alone had awakened some primal, protective urge in him that was previously dormant. And to be honest, he didn’t care. It felt right. It felt good.

  He pressed his lips to the soft skin between her breasts, taking a light nip to sample her sweetness before lifting his head. “I was hoping I could get you across it again.”

  “Oh, you will.” She gazed up at him in a way that made both his chest and his cock swell. “We’ve got all night, right?”

  “Damn right.”

  He drove into her again and again until he shuddered and exploded with an almost guttural groan. When his breathing evened, he brushed a damp hair off her cheek and rested his forehead on hers. “That was…”

  “Yeah.” The word came out on a sigh that tickled the underside of his jaw.

  “I’m not usually so…”

  “Passionate?” she finished for him. “Forceful?”

  “Fast.” He scrubbed a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. “Rough.”

  She pressed a kiss to the still racing pulse at his throat. “I like fast and rough.”

  “I hope you like slow and gentle, too. Because that’s where we’re headed next.”

  He carefully withdrew and disposed of the condom in the trash can. Then he scooped her up and carried her out of the kitchen.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to his shoulders, her fingernails digging little crescents into his skin. With each step he took, her suede boots rubbed seductively against his hips and ass. “Where to?”

  “I think it’s about time we found ourselves a bed, don’t you?”

  “No objections from this corner.”

  Her makeshift bedroom was at the opposite end of the studio, behind a folding screen that gave her some privacy. He deposited her onto the plush, dove-gray comforter and followed her down, stretching out beside her. As promised, he took his time with her this go-round, worshiping her body with his hands and mouth. He couldn’t get enough of the feel or the taste of her. It didn’t take anything more than a simple look or the barest touch to turn him into a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. She must have felt the same hunger because she returned the favor, exploring him from every angle until they were both finally sated and spent.

  They lay tangled together in a sex-drugged haze. No recriminations. No regrets. No awkward post-coital conversation. Just two people who had scratched a mutual itch they couldn’t ignore.

  At least, that’s what Eli’s brain tried to tell him as they drifted to sleep, even as his heart told him it was fast moving into something more. Something new and unfamiliar that he hadn’t known existed.

  When he awoke, the other side of the bed was empty. Sunlight spilled in from the double-hung window, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee teased his nostrils.

  Holy hell. He’d stayed the night. It usually took him months to get to that point with a woman. But not Brooke. His first time alone with her in her apartment—hell, his first time in her bed—and he hadn’t wanted to leave this smart, strong, sensual woman who made him chuckle one minute and climax the next.

  He didn’t have time to overanalyze the situation, thank fuck, because the woman in question appeared beside him, a steaming mug in her hand. She looked sixty shades of sexy, her eyes still misty with sleep and her hair all morning-mussed and flowing freely around her shoulders. She’d thrown on a tank top and a pair of form-fitting workout pants that didn’t leave much to the imagination—not that he needed to imagine the curves and valleys he’d spent hours memorizing last night—and he adjusted the sheet to hide the beginning of yet another raging, Brooke-induced hard-on.

  “I wasn’t sure how you took your morning caffeine, but you strike me as a strong and dark kind of guy.” She bent to set the mug on the bedside table, giving him an eyeful of her magnificent cleavage.

  He sat up, letting the covers fall to his waist, and her gaze lighted on his bare chest. Her breathing quickened, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips, making his already erect cock impossibly harder. She was as ready for round three as he was. Or was it four? He’d lost count somewhere during the night.

  Eli reached for the mug and took a sip of hot coffee. “Perfect.”

  “I’m not much of a breakfast person, but I’ve got a box of peanut butter Captain Crunch in the cabinet if you’re hungry. It’s like crack to me. Or if you’d prefer something more sophisticated, I can whip up some french toast.”

  He was hungry. But not for Captain Crunch or french toast. What he was craving would take more than the—he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand—fifteen minutes he had before his telephone status conference with Ginny. Hopefully she had a lead on their mole and some news about his bid for Candy Court.

  The second thought sobered him for a moment, but he shook it off. He’d already started preliminary discussions with a couple of local landlords who had space available. If the sale went through, all of the tenants, including Brooke, would have suitable substitute housing in Sunset Park before one brick was disturbed at Candy Court. No, not suitable. Better. Together, because they’d formed a sor
t of family he didn’t want to split up. More affordable. In a neighborhood revitalized by the new and improved Candy Court. It was the perfect solution for everyone involved, not just him.

  “Thanks, but as much as I’d like to stay, I’ll have to pass on breakfast. I’ve got an early status conference.” He looked around for his clothes then realized they were probably still where he’d shed them—in the kitchen, on the other side of the privacy screen.

  “Status conference?” Brooke picked up a pile from a nearby chair and handed him his neatly folded shirt, jeans, and boxer briefs. While he’d been dead to the world, she’d been busy playing housewife. Making him coffee. Folding his clothes. The casual domesticity was strangely satisfying, but her next words hit him like a splash of cold water, dousing his momentary contentment. “What exactly is it that you do for a living?”

  Shit. Him and his big fucking mouth. He’d been so eager to assure her that he wasn’t running out the door without good reason he hadn’t considered that his reason might touch on secrets he wasn’t ready to expose. Soon, but not yet. And certainly not when he was about to head out the door after a night of mind-blowing, life-altering sex. This wasn’t something he could blurt out and run. “I’m in finance.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Exactly. He worked with numbers every day. Cap rates. Overruns. Closing costs.

  His stomach roiled at the half-truth, but it would have to do. For now.

  “Figures.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Right. Numbers.” He shucked off the covers and slid on his boxers then his jeans.

  “No, I mean it figures you’re a financial guy. I had you pegged from the minute you walked into Flotsam and Jetsam.”

  “Really?” He slipped his shirt over his head and stuck his arms through the sleeves. “I didn’t realize I was that transparent. What gave me away?”

  “I think it was the designer duds. Or maybe the top-shelf scotch.” She crossed her arms over her ample chest and squinted at him. “Which begs the question. What’s a high-rent guy like you doing in a low-rent place like this?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I like things low-rent?”