Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL)

by Clare, Jessica

  Hunter was having a party and entertaining people. Her Hunter. He was breaking out of his self-imposed exile. Was this all for her?

  How could she possibly be mad at a man who was going to such lengths to prove to her that he could be the man she needed him to be? He’d manipulated her—and others—with his influence, that was true, but now she understood why. He’d never thought that she’d be interested in him, never thought she would give him the time of day, so he’d done the only thing he could do to bring her close. And while it was low-down, dirty, and craven . . . she understood it and even felt a twinge of sympathy for him that he’d felt the need to go so very far for something as simple and basic as human need for another person.

  He extricated himself from the conversation, handed his glass to a passing waiter, and strolled toward her, adjusting the front of his tuxedo jacket as if to make sure he looked his best. She found that utterly charming. Here was Hunter Buchanan, the most sexy, glorious, powerful man in the room, and he was making sure he looked good enough for her.

  It was a heady feeling.

  He walked up to her, reached out, and then dropped his hand. A hint of unease flashed across his face but he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. “Gretchen. You look . . . lovely.”

  She smiled at him, shifting when someone passed too close to them. “Hi, Hunter.” She didn’t know what to say. This hadn’t been a problem she’d had often. Normally words just ran right out of her mouth whether she wanted them to or not. A tall, slinky woman strolled past, her tight bandage gown glittering with sequins. “I seem to be underdressed.”

  “On the contrary,” Hunter said. “You’re the most gorgeous thing in this room. You don’t need flash to improve your beauty. Just your smile.”

  She couldn’t resist smiling at that. “You flirt.”

  He flushed a little.

  “Nice party,” she told him, stepping aside as another couple moved past them. The room was positively packed. “You did well.”

  “I did it for you,” he told her in a voice so low she almost didn’t catch it.

  She swallowed hard. “You did, huh?”

  “All for you. Everything. I want to prove to you that . . . I can be who you need me to be.”

  She shook her head. “Hunter, all I’ve ever needed was—” She paused as someone in the crowd called his name. “Maybe this is a bad time.”

  “Not a bad time,” he told her with a growl, and then he was at her side, cupping her elbow and steering her through the crowd. “Come with me.”

  They wound silently through the throng and escaped down a back hallway—the north wing. Hunter’s wing. At the sight of the familiar paintings hanging on the wall, she felt a sharp stab of longing. If they continued down a second hallway, they’d get to his room. Was his bed lonely without her? Was this thing they had too broken to be fixed? Had she been too hard on him when she should have been understanding as to what drove him?

  Hunter stopped in front of the large windows at the far end of the hall, where the corridor split and branched toward Hunter’s suite of rooms. From here, the wintry gardens were visible and the evergreen bushes were peeking out from under a blanket of snow. His hand lifted as if he wanted to reach for her and he just as quickly drew back.

  “You’re well?” he asked in a clipped voice, clasping his hands behind his back and glancing out the window.

  “Actually, no,” she told him. When he turned to her with a stricken look, she said, “There’s this guy who kind of broke my heart. He lied to me and sabotaged my work just so I could stay around him a bit longer.”

  The look on his face was tense, his expression intent as he focused on her. “And would you have gone out with me? Not knowing me? Not knowing who I was except for this?” He gestured at the deep gouges scarring his face. “How am I supposed to believe that? People turn away at the sight of me.”

  His sadness and pain broke her heart. “Oh, Hunter. Just because most people are shallow assholes doesn’t mean that I am.”

  “But how would I know this?”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?” she said briskly. “We’ll never know that, because you manipulated the situation and lied to me. You messed with my career. You can’t just make up jobs to bring people into your life.”

  “You can still have the money, you know,” he told her quietly. “I never meant to force you to choose between your happiness and me.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s not about the money, Hunter. When will you get that? It’s about you and me and trust. How can I trust that you’re not pulling strings behind the scenes again anytime something goes my way?”

  “How can I trust that you truly want me for who I am and not what I am?” There was a wealth of pain in his voice.

  “Oh, Hunter. You have to have faith in me.” She moved forward and gently cupped his cheek, feeling the grooves of the scars.

  He closed his eyes as if in ecstasy, his hand moving to hold hers there. “I love you so much, Gretchen. Please don’t leave me again.”

  “Then trust me.”

  His eyes opened. “It’s hard for me to trust.”

  An amused smile curved her mouth. “I get that you’re damaged, but how do you think I feel knowing you’ve been manipulating things since day one?”

  He flinched, and she could feel it against her palm. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know. And that’s why I’ve come back.” Her thumb lightly stroked over the jagged scar that twisted at the corner of his mouth. “It was the only way you knew how to reach out to me. I forgive you for that.”

  He leaned in and kissed the heel of her hand.

  “I still haven’t forgiven you for the sabotage of my laptop, though,” she said lightly. “That was kind of low.”

  “I didn’t realize Eldon was going to do that,” he told her. “I just wanted him to delay you.”

  “Oh, he delayed me all right. Killed my contract dead in the water.”

  Hunter winced, but his fingers stroked the back of her hand. He still held her palm to his cheek, as if fearful that if he released her, she’d slip out of his grasp again. “The files were recovered, by the way. I can send you the information.”

  She shrugged. “I’m a lot happier without writing, honestly. It’s not a profession I’m very good at. The constant deadlines drive me crazy, and if I have to write one more astronaut story I just might jump off your balcony. Without the contracts, I’m pretty broke but I’m also a lot happier—and less stressed—than I’ve been in a long time.”

  “Preston will be sorry to hear that. He contacted me the other day and suggested that if you didn’t want to do the epistolary novel that perhaps you’d be interested in doing a cookbook. He loved your cooking at the dinner party.”

  “A cookbook, huh?” She gave him a skeptical look. “Your idea?”

  He grinned and released her hand. “It was all him, I’m afraid. For once, I had nothing to do with it.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she told him softly, though in her mind she was already racing through her favorite recipes. Well, she’d let Hunter stew on it for a bit before deciding. Gretchen reached forward and slid a finger along Hunter’s lapel. “So what about the letters?”

  He leaned into her touch, stepping forward. His hands went to her shoulders. “They were simply a means to an end.”

  “Were they real? All those dirty, naughty things they wrote to each other?”

  “They were real,” he told her. “Just not in this house.”

  “I’m glad. I like to think that those two were crazy in love for so long and that they eventually get together. They do, don’t they? Get together and have a happy ever after?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t read far enough.”

  She snuggled into his embrace, sighing. “I like to think that they did. I feel like the
ir story is ours, just a little. Two lovers separated and reunited.”

  “Their story’s not ours,” he told her in a husky voice, his fingers brushing at a lock of her hair. “I want us to make our story, not follow someone else’s.”

  Her heart melted a little at that, and she curled her fingers into his jacket, tugging him close enough to kiss her. “You hurt me bad, you know.”

  “I’m changing. For you, I’ll change everything I am.” His intense gaze swept over her face. “I meant it, Gretchen. I love you. It doesn’t matter to me if you love me or not. Just stay.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing for you that I love you, too.”

  His eyes warmed. He brushed a finger along her jawline. “Do you mean it?”

  She thwacked him on the shoulder. “We’re going to have to get past this trust thing. Of course I mean it. Why would I lie to you after all this?”

  A wide grin crossed his face. “I just never thought I would be so lucky.” His fingers moved over her lips and he pressed a kiss to her mouth.

  It was a soft, gentle kiss, and it was over far too soon. All it did was stoke a fire in her belly that was impossible to put out. She moaned when he pulled away. “You want to see how lucky you can be?” she murmured to him.

  “Always.”

  She took his hand and led him toward the greenhouse.

  As soon as they shut the door behind them, he wrapped an arm around her waist. She closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace, taking in the lush scents of the rows upon rows of roses and the smell of damp earth.

  “Tell me I am not dreaming,” Hunter whispered against her neck, pressing kisses there. “That you’re truly in my arms and I’m forgiven.”

  “I’ll just pinch you instead,” she told him playfully, sliding out of his arms and turning to face him. “Got a preference as to where?”

  “Don’t care.” He grasped her hips and pulled her against him so she could feel the hard length of his desire against her. “I want you, Gretchen. So badly.”

  She smiled and sauntered away, passing by the black table that he did the more delicate gardening on. While most of the roses grew in large, deep pots, he had seedlings and a scatter of tools on the table at all times. Currently there were rows and rows of carefully planted seedlings marching across the table and taking up almost all of the space.

  Gretchen ran a finger along the edge of the table. “Kind of a shame that this is occupied. I can think of some naughty uses for such a nice, flat surface.”

  Hunter moved past her and, before she could protest, he lowered his arm and raked everything off the table in a loud crash. Plants tumbled to her feet, splashing dirt on her serviceable black sandals. A long smear of dirt marred his expensive tuxedo.

  Then he stood there, watching her with intense eyes, breathing deep.

  She kicked off her shoes, her panties growing wet at his impulsive move. A man who would destroy hours of careful work simply because he wanted to fuck her on the table? Hot. She tsked at him. “You’re ruining your jacket. I think it needs to come off.”

  Hunter’s eyes narrowed, and he shrugged the jacket off his shoulders, dropping it to the ground. His gaze never left her.

  Mmmm. His intensity was doing delicious things to her. Her pulse throbbed low, her sex growing slick. She moved forward, edging between him and the table. “My, you’re quite responsive today, aren’t you?”

  He captured her hand when she reached for his bowtie. His other hand slid under her dress and pressed up against her now-wet panties. “You’re ruining these,” he whispered huskily, turning her words against her. “I think they need to come off.”

  Gretchen moaned at the feel of his hand there. “How quickly the tables turn,” she breathed. Excitement was rushing through her and she wriggled against his hand, unable to resist pressing her mound against his fingers. “If I take them off, are you going to fuck me on this table?”

  “Yes.” His eyes gleamed. “And it won’t be polite.”

  Her hands trembled as she reached for the hem of her dress. “No?”

  “It’s going to be hard and rough,” he murmured, sliding his fingers up her mound to drag down the fabric of her panties in a possessive gesture. “You’ll probably scream my name a few times.”

  “Oh, wow,” she said, dazed at his words. Her thighs clenched in excitement. “When you take control, you really take control, don’t you?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “God, no.”

  “Good. I want you, and I don’t want to wait another minute,” he murmured, dragging her panties down her thighs. She obediently spread her legs so he could tug them downward, and then she let them slide to the greenhouse floor and kicked them aside.

  As soon as she did, his hands were on her hips and he lifted her to the table surface. She perched on the edge, her breathing rushed and excited. Lordy, this was hot.

  He pushed her backward a little, and then he hiked up her dress, exposing her pussy. She sucked in a breath when he placed his mouth on her. “Oh, Hunter.” Her fingers curled in his hair. “You are way too good at that.”

  He didn’t respond, but simply tongued her clit harder, his fingers spreading the lips of her sex to expose her fully to his mouth.

  She whimpered at the barrage of sensations, her hips flexing involuntarily. Her hands scrambled for something to hold on to, to brace herself on, but there was nothing but Hunter. She moaned when his tongue circled her clit with fierce little circles, her fingers tangling in his hair again. “Need you so bad, baby,” she breathed.

  He jerked up, and his face looked furious for a moment. “Damn it.”

  Fear suddenly flooded through her. “What is it?”

  “Condoms. Don’t have one.”

  Relief swam through her. “Is that all? Fuck it.” Her legs dragged around his shoulders, hooking him in place. “I’ll get on the Pill.”

  “But today—”

  “Today,” she murmured, “just pull out. Come on my belly.”

  His groan of need was loud and brutal. “You sure?” he asked even as he continued to drag her dress up her body, exposing her all the way to her bra.

  “God, yes. I need you inside me.” She squeezed her hips again. “Right now.”

  That was all the incentive he needed. Hunter stood and she heard his zipper before he pulled her hips down to the edge of the table. She felt his cock against her entrance, and then he hammered into her with a single move.

  Her groan of pleasure matched his.

  “I love you, Gretchen,” he gritted out, even as he began to thrust into her with rough strokes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  He sounded wild, out of control, and it excited her even more. Each pounding stroke slammed her into the table and sent a wave of intense pleasure through her. She whimpered again, digging her fingernails into his shoulders as he continued to ram into her, his thrusts hard just like he promised.

  And when she began to come, she did, in fact, scream his name.

  He bit out a curse when she began to clench around him, and he pulled out of her. A moment later, hot seed splashed on her stomach as he stroked his cock, groaning.

  She lay still beneath him as he finished, and when he was done, he inhaled deeply, opened his eyes, and fixed his intense gaze on her. His cheeks flooded with color. “I think I ruined your dress.”

  “Or gave me a great excuse not to go back to the party,” she told him languidly. Man, she felt amazing now. She didn’t even mind that she had dirt in her hair. “But I suppose you have to go back, right?”

  “Hell no,” he growled, tearing off his bowtie and then unbuttoning his shirt. When he pulled it off, he began to towel his cum off her stomach. “They can all leave as far as I’m concerned. I’m not letting you get away from me ever again.”

  She smiled up at him
. “You say the sweetest things, you sexy beast.”

  “I mean every word of it,” he told her, his eyes serious. “I love you. You have no idea how much.”

  Emotion clogged her throat as she sat up on the table. She carefully put her hands on each side of his face and gently kissed him. “I might love you more.”

  He grinned, a boyish smile of delight crossing his face that made her heart clench with emotion. “Using this table might have been a regrettable action.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” she said in a low, purring voice. “I feel pretty good.”

  “I destroyed all of the roses I was working on for you, though. The crossbreeds.”

  She shrugged and wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders. “Guess I’ll have to stick around for the next batch.”

  “It might take months before they’re ready again.”

  “I’m in no rush,” she said softly. “I plan on being at your side for quite a while.”

  He smiled.

  Keep reading for a special peek at the next Billionaire Boys Club novel

  THE WRONG BILLIONAIRE’S BED

  Available October 2013 from InterMix

  Audrey glanced in the bathroom mirror, smoothed a stray lock of hair into her tight bun, and then sucked in a deep breath.

  Time to approach the boss.

  She left the bathroom, her nerves tingling with a mixture of dread and wariness. Not that her outward expression showed it. She was very good about remaining calm and in control in a situation, and this was definitely a situation. Her low heels clicking on the marble floors of Hawkings Conglomorate’s headquarters, she swept the mail out of the delivery basket and returned to her desk. Once she’d sorted all the envelopes for Logan’s personal attention, she rubber-banded the rest and set them into her mailbox to attend to later.

  Her hand paused over the tabloid on her desk. After a moment’s indecision, she folded the magazine in half lengthwise and tucked it under her arm. Then, with mail in hand, she headed to Logan Hawkings’s closed door and rapped twice.