The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance)

by Mia Caldwell

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Carter

  She looks exhausted. I want to go to her, sit her down and fold her into my arms, letting her fall asleep on my chest as I brush those worry lines off of her forehead. Instead, I clumsily wield a spatula.

  "I'm really good at eggs, and not much else," I tell her. "So I hope you don't mind giving me a second chance to make breakfast for you."

  Her friend Tricia is gaping openly at me from over Sanniyah's shoulder, but when she hears me say that, she turns red and bolts from the apartment without saying goodbye. She is careful to close the door tightly behind her.

  Sanniyah is still blinking at me like she is trying to see an out of focus picture. "You're here," she says at last.

  "I wanted to help you," I say simply.

  She finally takes in the kitchen. "You went grocery shopping for me?"

  "Ah, actually one of Tallarico's stockboys did your grocery shopping. I was just here for the pick-up."

  "And now you're cooking me dinner?"

  "Breakfast," I clarify. "Since you didn't take me up on my offer in my house, maybe you'll let me cook for you in your house?"

  I expect her smile, laugh, or maybe even slap me and tell me to get the hell out. What I don't expect is for her to apologize.

  "Carter...," she exhales, sinking to the couch like she's melting. "I'm sorry. I flipped out on you for no good reason. Would it make it up to you if I told you I'm trying to get over my neuroses?"

  I go to her and swiftly take her hand. She leans her head on my shoulder and my heart catches in my chest. Sitting next to her, just breathing, just like we did on the log on the beach the first time we met. I let her go that night. Then, when I came to my senses and got her back, I lost her again.

  I wasn't about to screw this up a third time.

  I cup my fingers under her chin. "I have some shit I'm trying to get over too," I tell her.

  She nods a little and veils her eyes. "Camilla told me," she says.

  For a minute, I bristle at being talked about behind my back, but then I relax. Cammy has my back, I know this. "The say no man is an island, but I seem to be hell-bent on proving them wrong."

  "Carter, stop, don't make fun of yourself. We all have our own way of grieving." The way she says those words makes it clear she's done some grieving of her own.

  I lean back into the sofa and Sanniyah cuddles up into the crook of my arm. God, it just feels so damn right, holding her like this. She fits against me like she's the missing piece to my puzzle. It's been so damn long since I've held someone...anyone. Since I've let anyone that wasn't my sister get this close to me. The swelling in my chest is almost more than I can bear.

  Then she brushes her hand lightly up my thigh, and all at once I'm falling victim to a different kind of swelling entirely.

  I brush my hand down her arm, her incredible caramel skin making my heart flop around in my chest like a fish. She coos a little, a small sound, but it's enough. Brushing my fingers back up her arm, I cup my hand around the back of her neck, just holding there for a moment. It feels damn good to hold her this way. It feels damn good to hold her...period.

  She leans her head back, pressing against my palm. I begin to massage the tight muscles back there, kneading the curve from her shoulder up to where her elegant neck meets her head. She closes her eyes and moans softly, and I feel her turn to jelly under my touch. Her breathing quiets and deepens, and I am rewarded with the swell of her breasts rising higher with each inhale.

  I shift sideways, brushing my other hand up her belly to rest gently against them. Her eyelids flutter slightly, but she does not protest as I cup them gently, stroking my thumb over the top of her T-shirt. I can feel her nipple hardening under my touch and it is more than I can bear. "Sanniyah," I groan.

  She arches upward, urging me on. Emboldened, I stroke down and slip my fingers underneath her shirt to caress the soft skin of her belly. "I need to see you," I whisper, tugging it up over her head.

  "Go ahead and take a look," she smiles, opening her eyes and peering at me from under the veil of her thick black lashes. "Tell me what you think."

  The lacy white perfection of her bra is like cream against her caramel skin. "I think...you look good enough to eat."

  She snakes her hands behind my neck, lacing her fingers tightly together. "I'm hungry too," she whispers, then pulls me to her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sanniyah

  Our lips crash together and all the hesitation is gone. Neither of us is wondering if the other wants this any more. Plans be damned, this is what I need, right now. I need Carter's hands on my skin, his lips on my lips, his ardent, rock hard need pressing fiercely into my belly as he moves over me, bending me back until he is on top of me. The need for him is all-consuming, and when his lips find my neck, I cry out, arching up into him.

  "Yes," I moan into his ear, nipping and licking at the lobe. He snarls and pulls back, ripping his shirt off over his head. I scramble up to run my hands over the hills and valleys of his chiseled torso. He looks like he is carved from cool marble, but the heat of his skin is all too human. I need to touch him everywhere. It's like my hands have a mind of their own, stroking, rubbing, kneading. I slide them around his waist and pull him closer, pressing the whole length of my body against his.

  "No more bullshit," he growls into my ear, his breath carving a hot line across my neck. "None of this 'are we, aren't we bullshit,' okay? I'm not interested in playing games with you, Sanniyah Jones."

  I try to reply, but my words are lost in a frenzied moan as his tongue finds the fevered peak of my breast. Little spasms of pleasure fire down my spine one after another as he licks and teases, suckling the hardened pearl in between his lips. He growls every time I moan, and the sound fills the room with the song of our longing. I am writhing now, arching and pressing into him in rhythm with his touch. His fingers delve into my skin, lower and lower until, with a satisfied groan, he slides them below the waistband of my jeans.

  "Ah, god, I can feel how wet you get for me."

  "Worth facing your worst fears?" I moan.

  His head shoots up and he fixes me with a stare so intense that for a moment I wonder if I have ruined everything. Then he kisses me, hard.

  "Worth it," he rumbles as he begins to delve into the hot folds. "So...fucking...worth it."

  I bite back a shriek of pleasure as his finger sinks inside of me. He has me impaled, wiggling, before he begins to move in and out of me. He is taking his sweet time, lavishing my body with a deluge of kisses, as if he wants to taste every inch of my skin. But I am desperate for more. I want more than his finger...I want him.

  I shoot my hand down and cup it around the bulge in his jeans. He hisses, losing his rhythm. Smiling up at him, I wriggle down so that I am just below his waist. "I can make it even more worth it," I smile as I unzip.

  Carter's eyes are wide, his lips parted and his breath coming in measured gasps as he watches me from above. My fingers are shaking in the frenzy of my need, so it is harder to unzip him that it should be. Finally, I just yank the waistband down below his narrow hips without unzipping it at all.

  When his manhood bobs free, I catch it in my lips, swiping my tongue around the head and inhaling the scent that has gathered around him. He smells of clean water and sunshine, the scent of the sea all over his skin. It's enough to transport me right back to that night in his mansion when he threw me over his shoulder. The memory inflames me. I start to move my head in earnest, taking in as much of him as I can.

  Carter is straining above me, balancing his whole weight on his hands as he shudders. I can feel his hips straining not to go deeper. He wants to fuck me. He's holding back, but he wants to fuck me so badly.

  I pull my head back with a gasp. "Now," I tell him.

  I have never seen a man move so quickly. In one motion, he has my jeans in a heap on the floor and my legs spread wide. With a practiced snap, he unrolls the condom and presses himself against m
e. I grip the back of the couch and brace myself as he surges inside of me with a powerful thrust.

  The way his eyes go wide, the way the muscles tense around his neck, the way his lips part as he looks down to see where we are joined...if I didn't believe his words when he said he was done with the games, I could just listen to his body. Something inside of my chest that was tightly coiled suddenly blooms for the very first time.

  "Carter..." I groan as I clutch his back. "Damn, I've been such a fool."

  "If you're a fool, then I'm a fucking idiot," he growls, pulling back a little and stroking his hand along my hair. Then he grips it tightly and surges upwards, making me gasp. "I'm not an idiot, Sanniyah," he snarls as he thrusts savagely inside of me. "I'm not letting you go."

  The small, delicious part of me that loves his bossiness is reveling right now. He holds me tight, forcing me to look him right in the eye as he takes me. No matter how rough, how hard, I still want more. I want him to bruise me with his kisses; I want the marks of his fingers on my skin. I want him to make me his and hold me so damn tight that he keeps me together and I'm no longer in danger of falling to pieces.

  Carter pulls back and grips me under my ass. "Ride me, Sanniyah," he orders, "I want to see you come on top of me." He rolls, flipping us around so that I am straddling him and the feeling of power is exquisite.

  I rock forward, grinding him right in that special place. "Oh god, Carter, you're going to make me come."

  "Do it for me. I want to see your face. No don't slump forward, baby. Let me see your head thrown back. I'm going to bite your neck while you come on me."

  His words are like a drug, I am instantly addicted. My body can't move unless he's telling me exactly what to do. Mindless pleasure grips me and suddenly pulls me over the edge. I throw back my head and let out a strangled scream as the waves of ecstasy take me.

  Carter surges upward and crushes me to his chest. When his teeth find my neck, I let out another scream that makes the walls shake. He answers me with a roar and suddenly we are falling together; shivering and shaking with the aftershocks of our pleasure.

  Carter sags back on the couch, his torso gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat. I lean forward and lick him, tasting the salt on my tongue. He lets out a dramatic shiver that makes me laugh.

  "Sanniyah." The way he says my names is like a prayer.

  "Yes Carter?"

  "That was fun."

  I have to laugh again. "Not exactly what I was expecting to come home to."

  "Oh right!" His face stretches into a gleeful smile. "I still owe you breakfast too!" He fixes me with a look that could melt me right down into a puddle and then dashes, still completely naked, into my kitchen, leaving me with nothing to do but bask in the wonder of his return.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Carter

  I wasn't lying when I said I make a mean poached egg. My mother taught me how to hold them gently in the boiling water, waiting patiently for the heat to do the work for me. It's not something that can be rushed or forced and I think that's why I like it.

  Sanniyah doesn't have a blender, something I make a mental note to rectify, so I have to cheat with a fake Hollandaise. Luckily, I ordered the ingredients from the grocery. As I blend everything with a fork, I can hear her moving around her living room and a little shiver goes through me.

  It's not that I live alone. I have Rosa and Benson, but they don't actually...live with me. They hover on the shadows, being as quiet and deferential as they can be.

  Sanniyah lives here. She slams around, taking up as much space as she needs, humming to herself happily as she picks our discarded clothes off the floor and shakes them out. She runs water and swears when she drops a container in the bathroom. She collapses back down on the couch with a sigh, then bounces back up again while muttering something about emails.

  I'm living in the same space she is living.

  This is more than I've been able to manage in two long, lonely years.

  I look down and realize I have whipped the Hollandaise right out of the measuring cup and slopped it all over her counter. Wiping it up quickly, I mutter a silent prayer of thanks that she didn't catch me standing stock still in her kitchen, just listening to her. Maybe someday I can explain to her just how profoundly the simple act of being with her has shaken me to my core.

  She appears in the doorway to the kitchen, framed like a work of art. "You're still naked, you know," she informs me.

  She's wearing this silky black robe that makes me want to rip it off of her just so I can watch it slide along her skin. My cock stirs, and her eyes move down to it, pointedly.

  I look down. "Habits," I explain.

  She gestures to the kitchen window with its direct line of sight to an office tower across the street. "I guess you don't usually have to worry about giving people an eyeful," she grins. The way she lets those wide, warm eyes wander along my body makes the blood rush downward rather alarmingly. She saunters in, doing this little dance on her tiptoes. "Now, I don't mind. But they might."

  All at once, the image of a telephoto lens pops into my head. That office tower would be the perfect vantage point. They could see me, see Sanniyah, see us kissing, invading our private moment with their intrusive cameras. They could track me, know where I am...

  Shut the fuck up!

  I scream at the paranoid voice at my head, and press myself firmly against Sanniyah, redoubling her kiss with a passion that makes her gasp. I need to silence the thoughts. I need to drown in her before I drown myself.

  "Are you okay?"

  She is looking at me, concern written across her face.

  "I'm fine," I tell her brusquely. "Let's eat"

  She watches me carefully as I pour the sauce over the towers of biscuits, bacon and eggs I have arranged on two plates. I must have made a good show of holding it together, because she relaxes and smiles as her stomach growls audibly. "Those look amazing, Carter."

  "Dig in," I say, handing both plates to her. She takes them without question, heading into the living room, which gives me just enough time to quickly close the curtains in the kitchen.

  The minute I do, my heart rate returns to normal.

  "Who taught you to cook like this?" Sanniyah demands from the living room. She is tucked into the couch, the plate cradled in her lap, and her mouth is stuffed with food.

  "My mother," I tell her as I pull on my pants and settle in near her. "She was a home-ec teacher through and through. She wanted me to be self-sufficient but I guess she never figured I'd end up having a cook." I flick a forkful of eggs together and lean over to her. Sanniyah opens her mouth greedily and gives me a nice eyeful of her lips closing around my fork. I teasingly try to pull it back and she growls at me before settling back, licking her lips. "She started with teaching me breakfast," I continue, warming to the subject of my mother. "And worked her way through the meals of the day, but my skills have eroded in the reverse direction. Now that I have Rosa, I'm helpless when it comes to things like cuts of meat or salad dressings, but I can still poach an egg. Next time, I'll show you my crepe skills."

  "Ooh," she smiles appreciatively and then ducks down, veiling her eyes with those heavy black lashes as my words hang in the air. Next time.

  Yes Sanniyah, I want there to be a next time. And a time after that and a time after that. I want to see what comes next with you.

  She sops up the last bit of runny egg with a scrap of biscuit then leans back, sighing contentedly. My own food has grown cold, but I don't really care. I just want to watch her as her eyes flutter heavily.

  "You're exhausted," I tell her. It isn't a question.

  "It's been a hell of a day," she answers, sadness curling around her words.

  "Go lie down," I order, grabbing her plate. "I may be rich, but I know how to wash a dinner plate."

  "Breakfast plate," she corrects, smiling and stretching and yawning like a cat. "And leave them." She stands up and stretches her arms out to me. "Come to bed with me."


  The sun has barely set, but I'm not going to say no to holding Sanniyah's body in my arms. I lie in bed, listening to her in the bathroom, the comfortable, lived in sounds of being with someone, and once again my heart does that strange, shuddering, sideways motion. The only way I can explain it is the feeling of an ice floe breaking away from a glacier.

  Sanniyah appears in the doorway, arms full of pillows. "How many do you want?" she asks.

  "One is fine," I smile and suddenly I can't hold back any more. "You are the best damn thing, you know that?"