Baby Fever Bride: A Billionaire Romance

by Nicole Snow

  “I'm not that fancy. I grew up making my own bed when I feel like it,” I snap. “You're here about the charity thing, aren't you?”

  “That, and to find out why you've been hiding from me all week.” His blue eyes fix on me like a hawk's, amused and slightly angry. “I told you I was available in the evenings. Thought you'd want to discuss payment by now?”

  I can't look away. His gaze is magnetic, even when I want to be mad at him.

  Mad and distant. I hate it.

  “I suppose I'd better see about money, now that I'm officially unemployed. I've taken a leave of absence from my job. Mr. Franklin was more than happy to tell me I'd be welcome back whenever. Guess he found out about the wedding. He doesn't want to ruffle any feathers with the firm's landlord, certainly.”

  “I wasn't talking about money, Penny. Half of what I promised is wired to your bank, though, in case you're wondering. A cool four hundred thousand you'll get to keep after taxes, just like we discussed.” He quirks an eyebrow, stroking his strong jaw with his fingers. “I'm more interested in hearing how you'd like to approach your bonus. Let's talk babies. If you're having second thoughts, I'd like to know that, too.”

  My ovaries practically burn when his doubt hits my ears. Blood rushes into my cheeks, frustrated and a little turned on all at once. Talking about any kind of baby making with this man is a special kind of torture.

  I wonder why he sounds so disappointed, like he actually wants to go through with the obligation on his end.

  We're going to be doing it with a cup and turkey baster, or whatever the fancy medical equivalent is. Not anywhere he's going to burn me down with another one of his patented kisses.

  “No, nothing like that. No second thoughts.” I shake my head, gulping the last dregs of my tea. “I've been getting over a bug, just like I told you. Can't exactly start the baby making process until I'm well in body and mind.”

  “Your body's never looked better,” he says, dragging his eyes up me, starting at my legs and working his way up. “Dance with me tonight. It'll do you some good to get up and move around. I'm sure you'll find the blood goes to all the right places when you're on the floor. It'll clear your head. I'll be sure to keep my colleagues on a short leash so they don't force us to act too much.”

  Dance? Just like that?

  What? With me, the girl who hasn't done so much as the waltz since eighth grade, and never in front of anyone who matters?

  “I'll go to the fundraiser, but I don't dance.” I wag my finger, not trusting the smile creeping across his face. “I mean it, Hayden.”

  “I'm just as serious, love.” He stands up, walks over to me, and circles behind the chair.

  He's broken the pet name rule, but I don't have time to call him out. Before I know it, his strong hands are on my shoulders, rubbing, stroking away the tension under my skin.

  Fire flows through me, intense and confused. I'm melting into him, helplessly drawn in, and it's fucking outrageous.

  “You just broke the agreement. No pet names, Hayds. Remember?” I cluck my tongue, looking up, while he digs his fingers deeper into my skin, smoothing raw muscle.

  “Are you always this uptight? It's fun to break the rules once in awhile, Penny. Look at my face. I'm not even mad about that stupid nickname Luke gave me.”

  “Whatever. Just tell me when you want me tonight, and what you want me to say.” I get up, tearing myself away from him.

  He rests one hand on the back of my vacated chair, looking at me glumly. “I'll walk you out to the car around seven. Ease up. Have a little fun. Pretend you're happy to be my wife, and we'll talk about the other part of this arrangement when you're good and ready.”

  Like it's so easy. I back up, leaning against the wall, watching as he makes his way out.

  I never know how to be around this lion of a man. He's opening my door, and almost to the hallway, when I stick my head around the corner and yell. “Hayden! Wait.”

  He stops, dead in his tracks, and looks at me with a smile. It's like he's expecting me to ask him to come crawl into bed. Thankfully for both of us, I haven't lost my mind.

  “What's up with the cats all over the place? They're everywhere, even on you.”

  He stands up straight, his smile softening. Raising one fist, he bangs it against his chest, the place where he hides that intricate lion tapestry inscribed on his skin.

  “This city's a jungle, love, and there's only room for a few kings. You're looking at one.”

  My jaw drops. Pure ego.

  I'm not sure what I expected. Some sappy, sentimental story about hunting on the Kenyan plains with his dead father, perhaps.

  “That's it?” My hand goes up, palming my forehead. “Jesus, you're full of yourself, aren't you?”

  “Guilty as charged, but I've got no regrets. What would the jungle be without a lion or two around to keep things in line? I've done a lot for this city, Penny, and it's given back tenfold.” He looks at me, his hand turning the doorknob lightly. “Don't look so surprised. Besides being my power animal, they're cool to look at, aren't they? This place would be awfully boring without cats.”

  He moves his head slightly, nodding to Murphy on the bed, who hasn't moved an inch since he came in. I'm starting to resent my own cat for taking to this lifestyle better than me.

  I'm still shaking my head when he winks one more time, then turns and heads out.

  Awesome.

  I'm about to spend the evening with a man so arrogant, so wild, and so entitled, it's like having his kid is just business as usual.

  I can't believe how hot I look.

  Hayden's aides haven't skimped on my wardrobe. Audrey from the bridal shop used my measurements to stock my closet with several dresses.

  I pick out a hunter green evening dress and high black heels with red lines running through them that accent my curves. Classy, but not outrageous. I want to look good, but I'm happy to make it seem like I'm not one more item on the menu for his rich friends, too.

  The colors compliment the approaching holidays. Not that I'm feeling very festive, alienating my family with this mystery wedding they'll never understand.

  I'm not going to dwell on it tonight. I'm not even going to let Hayden's antics get me down. These nights out, having fun, will be rare as soon as I'm pregnant.

  I'm giving my ears a finishing touch with the ruby earrings set in gold when he knocks on my door. “Five minutes, beautiful. Car's waiting.”

  “Beautiful? I could be wearing a potato sack for all you know.”

  “That would certainly make our evening interesting. I like you with less on, anyway.”

  His absurd teasing forces a sour smile to my lips. My heels tap the floor with angry excitement as I walk on over, pulling my coat off the hook and throwing it over my shoulders before I open the door.

  Hayden freezes, dressed in the same elegant suit, quietly staring me down. His lips form an O, and he lets out a soft whistle. “Daddy like,” he whispers, his smile equal parts goofy and evil.

  “Daddy? Gross!” I wrinkle my nose, but damn it, I'm smiling. It scrunches tighter than ever before because he's technically right, if we're going to go through with the other part of the arrangement. Ugh.

  “What? 'Baby daddy' sounds too long,” he says, smirking.

  “You'll be waiting a long time to ever hear it,” I say. “There's no scenario where I'm calling you daddy, except for putting you down on the birth certificate.”

  “Bullshit.” He ignores my lips opening to fire back, sweeps me into his arms, and kisses me.

  For the next ten seconds, I forget the lies, the stress, and the fire I'm dancing with by wanting this man's donation. There's just his earth shattering kiss, pulling me into an alternate dimension, the one where I'm a billionaire heiress worthy of his courtship.

  Worthy of his lips, his tongue, his hands arcing down my spine until goosebumps pepper every inch of my skin, sweeping dangerously close to my –

  “No!” I bat my han
ds against his chest and pull away before he can grab my ass. “You shouldn't be doing that. There's no reason, Hayden. We're not in public. There's nobody here to fool.”

  “Funny. That dress looks so damned good on your hips I'd believe you're not interested in fooling anybody. You want me, love. Be honest. It's not a sin.”

  “I want you to keep your hands to yourself,” I say, pushing his hand away when he tries to link arms, leading me outside. “Seriously, this isn't part of the deal. If we can't stay professional, we're going to have problems.”

  The beautiful bastard just smiles. I'm not glad he's enjoying this. In fact, by the time we're on the elevator, I want to shove him against the glass and slap him across the face, as hard as I can.

  “You look like Christmas,” he says, eyeballing me up and down. His blue eyes brighten a shade when they linger on my legs, and again when they find my cleavage.

  “Had to do something to brighten things up when you're dressed like a burnt cigar.” Okay, that was harsh. But I'm not sorry when he makes me feel completely naked in this fairly modest dress.

  “Ouch. I wore it just for you, babe, so you could shine next to me.” He's humoring me...or at least I think he is. Every look he casts down my red hair to my ample breasts makes me question everything. “Keep the tongue loaded if Kayla or any of her associates show up at the fundraiser. We'll need it to tell them to fuck off, or else suck face if they accuse us of faking this again.”

  “Oh, I will. I'll be too busy biting it all night trying not to mouth off to all your millionaire buddies while we're pulling the wool over their eyes.”

  I'm not looking forward to a verbal rematch with his selfish stepmother, or anybody else.

  “You'll do fine, love. I married the right woman, after all.” He takes my hand, and I reluctantly let him as the elevator doors slide open, clearing our path to the limo waiting outside.

  Truly, fine seems like an alien state of mind. I don't know what I'm doing stumbling into yet another situation where everything could go terribly wrong.

  But a guilty part of me enjoys his hand wrapped around mine. This time, with Reed holding the door for us, I slide in next to him.

  If I close my eyes and ignore the tingle building in my pussy every time his skin meets mine, I can almost pretend this thing between us is like a strange mentorship. I'm sure there's a lot to learn in a billionaire's world, if I just turn off my feelings for a few minutes and open my mind.

  That's better than opening my legs to this man, who makes my instincts want to do exactly that, every time his hand rests on my thigh. I have to slide away from him, before I do something monumentally stupid.

  We're not really married.

  We're not really lovers.

  We're not even friends.

  This is business. A strict, cold, and professional quid pro quo.

  Yeah. I wonder how many times I have to tell myself that before I'll believe it enough to throw a wet blanket on this fire he's so good at igniting underneath my skin.

  “That's a lot of zeros,” I whisper, trying not to make him feel too self-conscious. I've counted at least five, maybe six, behind the eight in front.

  He's staring at his checkbook, pen in hand, scrawling his signature on the check to drop in the gold box at the table up front. “It's nothing. I gave double last year. Wish I could do the same again, but with the legal uncertainty on the horizon, I'm not sure if I'll be able to afford it come next year.”

  We're on the main floor with music humming in the background. Several dozen older men in suits just as gorgeous as Hayden's wander around us, sipping champagne, wine, and scotch, their women decked in dresses glitzier than mine and often half their age, hanging off their arms.

  There's a small orchestra next to the place we walk by to drop his check. We grab drinks and sip them slowly. I choose a non-alcoholic sparkling cider, the best choice if I'm trying to have a baby next week.

  “There she is! My, Mr. Shaw, she's more striking in person.” The first of many old men walk up, shake my hand, and try to look down my dress.

  I tolerate their nosy looks and well wishes with a huge fake grin plastered on my face. I'm starting to find out what it's like to be a foreign dignitary, or maybe a princess, mouthing a few words to kiss the asses of the people who are actually kissing Hayden's by kissing mine.

  Thankfully, there's no sign of Kayla, or anyone I should worry about. Half an hour later, the music is in full swing. Half-drunken couples tumble out into the middle of the room, swaying in each other's arms, while the huge chandelier above them casts its magic, giving the scene more class than it deserves.

  He gives me the look just as the latest song winds down. “Well?”

  “I told you before, I don't dance.”

  “You can learn, and I'm a hell of a teacher,” he says, grabbing my hand, pulling me forward. “Forget the other eyes you think are on you. They're absorbed in each other. Focus on me. Follow my lead, Penny. I think you'll enjoy yourself.”

  Damn, I don't know how I'm going to survive the next few months without alcohol. Sighing, I let myself meld into his embrace, gently stepping across the gleaming white floor as he leads us around in a slow, shallow circle.

  Before I know it, I'm smiling. Hayden notices after the second song. “Told you, love. Don't you feel better giving your body a workout, instead of just your face?”

  He isn't wrong. I'm sick to death of smiling at all these people, laughing after every word when I talk about our rushed wedding, and how happy I am to be Mrs. Hayden Shaw.

  “Come closer,” he whispers, embracing me tighter for the next song. His chest feels so good on mine, and soon I'm resting my head on his shoulder, letting the evening's magic carry me away.

  It's not just our feet moving anymore as the violins swell, their soaring notes reflecting off the huge crystal chandelier above us. His hands are going places. They're exploring me, unraveling me through my dress, dipping down my back and to my ass.

  This time, there's no stopping him. Thank God the lights are dim, so no one can see me flush, redder than the bright candy cane bows draped from the ceiling.

  Why the hell does this feel so right? Desire hums in my veins, synchronized to the melodies flowing around us, twisting this moment that's wrong on so many levels into something right.

  “Fuck, you're beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in. “All this money spent on holiday decorations, green and red and tinsel, and the best view is right in front of me.”

  He's toying with me. That's what I want to think, until I search his eyes, and see the truth blazing in his blues, bolder than I've ever seen them.

  “Christmas isn't that exciting,” I say, turning my lips to his ear, close enough to inhale his divine scent. Even if the fragrance he's wearing costs a fortune, it's totally worth it, mingling perfectly with his natural manly scent. “I have a better view. I see a lion.”

  “Damned right, you do.” His voice drops an octave, becoming a growl.

  Hayden's hands press tighter on my back. He leans in, dragging his face across my neck, smelling me in turn.

  I'm embarrassed he's caught me breathing him in. But my heartbeat quickens the instant he moves away, grazing my cheek with his stubble. Everything between my legs goes slick and hot. That's a lot more worrisome than him watching me, mid-shame.

  “Let's go,” he whispers, his teeth grazing my skin. I don't resist as he pulls me off the dance floor, heading for a small privacy room near the back.

  It's dark inside, despite the glass door. It looks like the kind of place people go to make their phone calls, or whatever rich people do when they need to take a breather from the exuberance.

  “Hayden...”

  “Quiet. I've been wanting to unwrap you all night, ever since you walked out of your room and made me eye-fuck you the whole way here.” He tips me over on his arms, resting my shoulders on the little table. “I read what you said in your little black book, the parts where you were curious about what it'd
be like to get taken just out of everybody's sight. Wonder no more.”

  I flush, more embarrassed and wet by the second.

  Before I know what's happening, his hand is on my shoulder strap, pulling it down. He pops one cup of my bra, pulls it aside, and brings his face down, softening my rock hard nipple with his tongue.

  Holy shit. My legs start shaking. I know he can feel it because his free hand pushes them apart a second later, giving him ample space to move in for the kill. His teeth tighten around my nipple, and he pulls my hair, catalyzing the inevitable whimper.

  No man has ever treated me like this. I'm turned on. It's brutal pretending I'm not, even as everything in the back of my head screams no, no, no.

  “We...we shouldn't. We're supposed to –“

  “What? Keep this 'strictly professional?' I've never been so fucking tired of a phrase. Come on, love. Even when you want to take every inch of me and have my kid the natural way, you're saying you don't? Your body doesn't lie.” He stares down, all lion, lifting me up while his hands help mine around his neck. “Feel me, Penny, and tell me this isn't right. People weren't meant to breed jerking into test tubes and letting doctors do the dirty work. We can have our fun and be friends.”

  His mouth crashes down on mine before I can answer. His tongue sweeps over mine again and again before I realize I'm dry humping his leg. Not that there's anything dry about the sopping wet mess I've made in my panties.

  I'm glad it's too cold for knee high dresses. The length doesn't stop him from pushing my dark green hem up with his hand, caressing me with his thick, calloused palm.

  How did a boy this rich get hands like a hardened man who's been cranking wrenches or working fields for a living?

  His arms flex, jerking me closer, reminding me how much power he's worked into his muscles.

  Oh, right. I'm not dealing with an ordinary billionaire who happens to be arrogant and gorgeous.

  I'm entangled with a former cage fighter and a freak who's lying to the world with his suit, hiding the lion and the lightning roaring on his skin.