Except I’m afraid that, even though I tried, I wasn’t a very good father, not to you or to the boys. But please know that I loved all of you very, very much.
I can’t say more. There’s too much and none of it is good.
You and the boys were the family I didn’t deserve.
All my love, Dad.
A tear slipped down her cheek, then another, then another.
Then warm arms were sliding around her waist and she was being drawn back against the hot, hard wall of a very male chest.
“Damn you, Noah Tate,” Van said, his voice rumbling in her ear.
Chloe relaxed into him, letting the tears fall, her heart aching. But it was a good ache, simply grief this time, nothing more. “That’ll teach you to read over people’s shoulders.”
His arms tightened around her. “That sounded an awful lot like a man ashamed of what he’d done.”
“He probably was. It was probably why he kept all of us at a distance.” She sniffed, brushing away the tears. “Shall we tell Wolf and Lucas?”
Van’s short laugh vibrated against her back. “Let’s wait until they don’t want to kill me for getting engaged to you.”
She grinned, blinking away the last of her tears, and turned around, looking up into his beautiful face. He was freshly showered, smelling of soap and shampoo, and home. “That might take a while.” His brothers had made their thoughts on her and Van’s engagement pretty clear, and it didn’t look like they were going to change their minds any time soon.
“True.” Van’s eyes gleamed gold. “In that case, let’s go back to bed.”
“But what about my breakfast?”
He gave her a look. “Seriously? What’s more important? Me or your damn breakfast?”
Chloe laughed and lifted her arms, winding them around his neck and bringing his mouth down on hers for an answer.
It was him. It was always him.
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THE WICKED BILLIONAIRE
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Detachment. Distance. Control. That was how he’d lived his life after what had happened at the stables and he was happier for it. The wild swings of inexplicable emotion dampened, rage and pain and guilt blunted, muted. He didn’t need those emotions anyway, and as for joy and happiness, well, they were overrated. Desire though, that was different. That was harder to get a handle on, but he was trying.
He had no time to be distracted from his mission and especially not after what had happened today, when he and Van and Wolf had dealt with the board at Tate Oil, and then afterwards, the unexpected arrival of Van and their foster sister Chloe, at Leo’s Alehouse. Lucas hadn’t even known Chloe was in New York, but it turned out that Van had brought her here from the ranch in Wyoming. Apparently their father’s enemy, Cesare de Santis, was after her for some reason and the Tate mansion on the Upper East Side was compromised, which meant Van needed to take her somewhere to hide her. The situation was serious so Lucas had offered them his own Soho apartment since he was here with Grace. Van had been grateful, which in turn had reminded him of the seriousness of his own situation too. Of the danger to Grace and how he really needed to get a handle on it. Deal with it and fast, because the longer it went on, the longer he was going to have to remain here with her. The longer he was going to have to manage the intensity of the chemistry between them.
“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch,” Grace said, her lovely mouth flattening.
He ignored that, ignored the way his body was hardening in response to her nearness and that delicious, faintly apple scent of hers. “And you’re a liar.”
Her gaze flickered and she straightened, drawing away from him. The movement pulled the silky fabric of her tunic tightly across her breasts, outlining the hard points of her nipples. Another giveaway.
“Not that it matters” he added. “I simply want you to be clear.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then her gaze dropped to the open neck of his shirt. Slowly she leaned over him again, more deliberate this time, her hair suddenly a scented curtain around them. Christ, what did she wash her hair with? It smelled of apples too.
You’re thinking about the way her hair smells? What the fuck is wrong with you?
“Thanks for telling all of that.” She lifted those long, cool fingers of hers, taking the cotton of his shirt between them. “And I’m sorry about your family. That must have been terrible, and I’m sorry about your foster father too.” She slid the button out and he felt the electricity of her touch as her finger grazed lightly against the bare skin of his throat. It was the merest brush, yet he felt it move like lightning through him.
Her breath caught, the delicate flush in her cheeks deepening, making her freckles stand out. She hadn’t meant to touch him, it was clear, yet when her gaze lifted to his, there was nothing but challenge in her amber eyes. “But all of that doesn’t give you the right to assume you know jack shit about me or what I want.”
There was a roaring in his ears, his heart rate beginning to climb. She was leaning against his knees, her long, willowy body stretched out over his and all it would take would be a small nudge and he’d have her over his lap. Then he’d take her down onto her back on the couch, crush her beneath him …
Jesus Christ, he was cold. And she was so fucking hot.
He stared back at her, unmoving, looking into her eyes because he couldn’t bring himself to look away, reading challenge in them loud and clear.
Ah, yes. Like he’d challenged her to undo his tie, now she was giving that same challenge back to him. Fuck, what did she think he was going to do? Run away? Didn’t she know that a man like him would always answer a challenge like that? And he’d fucking win, too.
Yeah and you should stop fucking panicking too. This is a test, remember? You’re a goddamn SEAL. If the test isn’t hard, maybe you should join the army instead.
That was true. Also, he wasn’t thirteen anymore, battling a rage that seemed to have no end, a rage that really didn’t have anything to do with the gun he’d been denied, but something else. Something he didn’t understand and didn’t have a name for.
He was stronger now. He’d been in perfect control of himself for years. He’d been on missions that had broken lesser men, and this woman, the widow of his best friend, wasn’t going to make him lose it no matter how warm and elegant, no matter how smart or fascinating or downright desirable she’d become to him.
He’d never been a weak man and he wasn’t about to start now.
A test.… Time to make this test harder.
Lucas didn’t say anything. Instead, keeping his gaze on hers, he lifted his hand, moving slowly so she could see what he was doing. With extreme deliberation, he pushed his fingers into her hair, curling them around the back of her fragile, beautifully shaped skull. The red-gold locks were as soft and silky as he’d imagined they’d be, softer even, and warm against his palm.
Her mouth opened soundlessly, her eyes going wide in shock.
She hadn’t expected this, clearly.
Excellent. This would be a test for her too.
Keeping one hand on the back of her head, Lucas gently skimmed one finger across her cheekbone. She didn’t speak, her breathing getting faster and faster, her small gasps audible in the dense silence of the apartment. Her eyes had gone black, only a thin rim of gold around the outside of them.
She looked … exposed almost, the vivid, compelling planes and angles of her face vulnerable.
Who else got to see her like this? Griffin had, obviously, but he was betting no one else ever saw her like this. Only him. The thought was vaguely satisfying.
He held her darkened gaze with his as he tightened his fingers on the back of her neck, drawing her down with aching slowness until at last - at last - her mouth was on his.
Electricity ran the entire length of his body, looking for a place t
o ground itself and finding nowhere, and it as only through sheer force of will that he managed to hold into his control. To resist the urge to ravage that soft, vulnerable mouth, pull her to the floor and get inside her any way he could.
His heart was racing and refused to slow, none of his usual exercises were working, the beat of it loud and insistent in his head. But he didn’t stop what he was doing. He’d had harder tests than this in his training. One soft mouth wasn’t going to get the better of him.,
And it was soft. So fucking soft. And trembling slightly.
He began to explore the seam of her lips with his tongue. Gently, with care. Coaxing her to open to him.
She shook, a husky noise escaping the back of her throat as her mouth opened gradually to him.
So much heat. She tasted like coffee and something else, something sweet, and that heat was suddenly roaring up inside him, like a smoldering fire bursting into life with a breath of wind. No, scratch that. This was like someone had poured gasoline directly onto an open flame, turning it white hot, bright and consuming.
If this is a test, you’re failing it.
No, he fucking wasn’t. He could control this and he would.
Lucas made himself go very still, every muscle in his body tight, trying to force his heartbeat to slow the fuck down. At the same time, he began to kiss her with deliberate slowness, pushing his tongue into her mouth and exploring deeper, letting the flavor of her go straight to his head.
Testing himself. Testing her.
She trembled again, one hand coming down on the back of the couch near his shoulder while she put the other on the arm, as if she needed to lean against something for balance. But she didn’t pull away, her mouth open and so damn sweet, and her hair was like the softest silk thread. She was leaning into him now, her body pressing against his legs, and the warm musky smell of her was making his head swim. Then she touched her tongue to his, tentatively, as if she had no idea how to kiss, and he knew if this went on any longer, he was going to fail this test and spectacularly.
He began to pull away, gripping the back of her head when she tried to follow, holding her still until there was space between them and he was staring up into her eyes. They were smoky and dark, her cheeks deeply flushed, and she looked half-dazed. Her mouth was was full and red and he all he could think about was pulling her back down and kissing her again, harder, deeper.
ALSO BY JACKIE ASHENDEN
Nine Circles series
Mine To Take
Make You Mine
You Are Mine
Kidnapped by the Billionaire
In Bed with the Billionaire
E-Novella series The Billionaire’s Club
The Billion Dollar Bachelor
The Billion Dollar Bad Boy
The Billionaire Biker
Available from St. Martin’s Press
Praise for the novels of Jackie Ashenden
“Utterly captivating … with searing sensuality … Ashenden has once again provided series fans with a book to savor and remember.”
—RT Book Reviews (Top Pick) on In Bed with the Billionaire
“Dances on a dark edge and frolics in naughtiness.”
—Kirkus Reviews on In Bed with the Billionaire
“With a distinct voice and fresh, complex characters, Mine To Take is a sexy, emotional read that gripped me from page one. I can’t wait to see what Ashenden brings us next.”
—Laurelin Paige, New York Times bestselling author
“Scintillating, heart-pounding … I loved!”
—Opal Carew, New York Times bestselling author
“The sex is dirty-sweet, with a dark lick of dominance and the tantalizing potential of redemption, and an explosive ending provides the perfect closure to Gabe and Honor’s story while setting up the next installment.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review) on Mine To Take
“Intriguingly dark and intensely compelling … explosive.”
—RT Book Reviews on Mine To Take (Top Pick!)
“Powerfully suspenseful and, above all, sensual and meaningful … not to be missed.”
—RT Book Reviews on Make You Mine (Top Pick!)
“Ms. Ashenden is an incredible storyteller.”
—Harlequin Junkies
“Steamy.”
—Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jackie Ashenden lives in Auckland, New Zealand with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, and their two kids and two cats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their stroppy heroines, she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, posting random crap on her blog, or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband.
Jackie writes dark, sexy contemporary romance for St. Martin’s Press, including the New York Billionaires Club series of novellas. You can find Jackie at www.jackieashenden.com or follow her on Twitter @JackieAshenden. or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Teaser
Also by Jackie Ashenden
Praise for the novels of Jackie Ashenden
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE DANGEROUS BILLIONAIRE
Copyright © 2017 Jackie Ashenden.
Excerpt from The Wicked Billionaire Copyright © 2017 by Jackie Ashenden.
Jacket Photographs: Design by Crystal Ben; Type Texture © Yurlick/Shutterstock; Dog Tags © Jeff Thrower/Shutterstock; Man © FXQuadro/Shutterstock; Pants © Luckyraccoon/Shutterstock; Texture © McIek/Shutterstock
All rights reserved.
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition /May 2017
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
The Dangerous Billionaire Page 33