The Billionaire Next Door

by Jessica Lemmon

  Plus, he tasted like heaven.

  She tightened her grip on his sweater and kissed him again. Tag wanted her, in his bed, in his room. She wanted it, too.

  And she was going to take it.

  Chapter 13

  Rachel Foster had never been so pampered.

  When she’d lived in Ohio, she hadn’t wanted for anything—her basic needs were always met. Christmases brought lots of presents, and her mother was fond of surprising her with gifts or dinners out. So yeah, she had been brought up in a small town but by no means had been destitute.

  Moving to Chicago on her own had been an upgrade, and when she moved in with Shaun, she’d been able to afford a few of the finer things. Expensive handbags and shoes, and a few nice dresses. No, her closet wasn’t bursting with designer clothing, but she had enough to make her look good at work and make her look good for Shaun.

  But she’d never experienced luxury like this…She took in the cabin of the private airliner from where she sat at the breakfast table. This was really something. She wasn’t yet over the opulence of the buttercream leather sofa and chairs, cushy armrests, and reclining seats.

  They’d boarded the plane at midnight, and after they were in the air, she’d gone straight to the cabin and slept like the dead. She awoke to turbulence around seven in the morning Chicago time, took a quick shower—an experience like none other—and dressed before she came out to the main cabin.

  Though this room wasn’t like being on an airplane either. The cushy seats and leather couch and a dining area were all formal enough.

  She’d forgone breakfast, but took her coffee with lots of cream while watching Tag peck at his laptop at a comically slow speed. Each tick of his fingers was like watching a giant try and operate a delicate device.

  She knew personally what those fingers were capable of. How sure and strong they were. They were being wasted on whatever email or document he was typing at the moment.

  She let out a longing sigh.

  Tag didn’t look up from the keyboard when he said, “For being nervous about flying, you don’t act very nervous.”

  Finally, he raised an eyebrow and met her eyes.

  She wiggled in her seat, heat coating her. This morning his hair was in a low ponytail/bun, and he wore a casual pair of jeans and a V-neck tee showing a hint of chest hair. All she’d been able to think about was making love with him again, and how they likely didn’t have time to do it this morning since the plane landed in an hour or so.

  “Why is it you look like you’re thinking something sinister?” he asked, that eyebrow arcing higher. “And don’t lie to me, Dimples. I have a sixth sense.” She watched his slow smile, white teeth appearing as his trimmed beard parted. Her nether regions buzzed like she’d sat on a vibrating phone.

  “I’m surprised…” she started, feeling daring. Must be the Kona coffee.

  “Because?”

  “Because I expected you to induct me into the Mile High Club by now. This is my first private flight.” She looked at him through her lashes, her coy smile in place.

  Tag wore an all-out grin, which made her inordinately pleased. Where she was concerned, he wasn’t immune. And she liked that. A lot.

  “Excuse me.” Smoothly, he shut his laptop, stood, and walked from cabin to cockpit.

  Okay. That was interesting. She hadn’t expected him to leave. Maybe she didn’t have the same power over him as he had over her.

  She turned to look out the window, but the nighttime landscape was nothing but blackness. She imagined a sea of clouds and blue skies once the sun rose, anticipating being someplace where the high was above freezing. She wondered what the temperature was on—

  “Let’s go.” Her hand was snatched a moment later as Tag pulled her out of her seat and led her to the bedroom.

  “Wait,” she said through her laughter as she hustled after him. “What are you doing?”

  In the bedroom, he released her, closed the door, and whipped off his shirt. She gasped, her eyes eating up his tanned muscles and bulky arms.

  “Making you a member.” He caught the back of her head in his hand and kissed her. She melted beneath his touch. She was hopelessly attracted to him. Just an absolute goner.

  When she caught a breath of air, she said, “Where did you go?”

  “Told the pilot to take the long way.”

  “There’s a longer way to Hawaii?”

  “There is now.” He continued tickling her neck with kisses, making his way down her collarbone and over one shoulder as he slid the strap of her dress aside. Then the zipper was down, and he was lifting the material over her head.

  “I like this season on you.” He tossed the garment aside. “More skin. Less clothes,” he mumbled in between kisses.

  “Hey! Don’t wrinkle it. I wanted to get lei’d in that dress.” She smiled.

  “Oh, now you’re cute?”

  “I don’t know. Am I?”

  Something serious overtook the moment, thickening the air in the bedroom as Tag brushed his knuckles along her cheek. His eyes flickered with warmth, his touch enough to tantalize and savor at the same time.

  “Yeah, Dimples. You are.” His next kiss was slower, more purposeful, when he bent his head and covered her lips with his. Rachel lost herself in the feel of his mouth, noting the shift in the moment. He’d dragged her to his apartment for a sexy game of cat and mouse before, but this was different. He hadn’t come in here to prove himself. He’d come in here to grant her request.

  That same surge of power joined a surge of passion when he laid her down on the bed. He kissed the space between her breasts, then circled her belly button with his tongue. Her hands went to his hair, guiding his lips as he sneaked his tongue beneath the edge of her panties.

  By the time he’d put his lips on her most private and sensitive part, gone were the pesky questions buzzing in her head. He hummed against her sex, sending vibrations into her belly and her brain into orbit. Her lungs seized when he set the pace, flicking and laving her until her orgasm crested.

  When she came, she did so as quietly as possible, which until Tag Crane had never, ever been a problem. No man—and there had been embarrassingly few—between her legs had ever been this good. She’d never had to worry about smothering her cries with her ex because he’d never taken her there. But with Tag she was in tune to his particular brand of attention. To the way he was able to turn her inside out in record time.

  He kissed a path up her body, and she unthreaded her fingers from his hair, widened her legs to accommodate him, and then tucked him in as close as she could.

  “So good at that,” she whispered, repeating her praise from the first time he went down on her.

  “You didn’t need as much coaxing this time.” He put a kiss on her chin, pride radiating his entire being. “Minx.”

  “Tell me you have a condom.”

  His eyebrows went up.

  “I want the gold membership, Tag. Don’t short me.”

  He pushed off the bed and went to the adjoined bathroom, calling, “Trust me, Dimples, there’s nothing short about me.”

  As evidenced when he stepped from the bathroom, naked, cock encased in a condom and pointing due north. She made a “come here” motion with her hands, and he did, sinking between her legs and nudging her entrance the moment his weight hit the bed.

  “You continue surprising me; did you know that?” he asked.

  “I’m surprising myself.” Already, she’d begun to recapture who she once was before receiving a felling blow. Yes, in part it was the sex, but she sensed it was also the man over her, his blue eyes trained carefully on her face, the edge of his smile making her want to know what he was hiding under it. He was big and he was bold, but he was also tender. He cared about her, was careful with her, and that was something else she’d never experienced before.

  “Am I crushing you?” he breathed, an exhalation sawing out of his lungs as his arms tucked in next to hers.

  “No. I
like you here.” The comfort of his weight, of his attention.

  “I like me here, too.” Eyes on hers, he tilted his pelvis and slid, slowly, slowly until he was buried to the hilt. With a gasp, she dug her heels against his ass. Then he began to move, rocking into her at the same time the plane hit turbulence.

  There was nothing like being thousands of feet above the earth while they came together and apart, her cries piercing the piped air of the cabin.

  He rested his hand on her jaw as every thrust hit its mark deep in her core. She’d been wrong about him. He wasn’t too much for her. He fit. Tightly, but each stroke found her most hidden place and sparked like flame to kindle.

  “Tag.” Her voice was breathy.

  “Close,” he grunted as he worked.

  “I want you to come.” She pushed hair off his face with her palms and his pupils darkened in response. He wanted that, too.

  “You first.”

  “One’s enough.” She shook her head. He’d given her so much. She wanted that same satisfaction etched into his face.

  “Not on my watch, Dimples.” He wedged one big hand beneath her butt and tilted her hips. His biceps strained as he shifted and drove into her solidly, proving he was a man of his word.

  She called out in surprise but mostly from the decadent pleasure of having him seated so deep. Deep in her body…but she couldn’t let him embed himself in her heart. Once, she thought she’d get married to a man who threw her aside for a petty promotion, and despite the closeness between her and Tag, she couldn’t dismiss that he’d be done with her soon. He may not cheat her out of a future at a company, but he would go when things between them were too much.

  She was okay with that. She had to be.

  “Working hard over here,” he said on a growl. “You with me?”

  She pushed his hair from his face and absorbed his grin. “I’m with you.”

  “Good.”

  Then there was no more talking. Only the sounds of Tag working her into a frenzy and her trying not to yell too loudly lest the onboard concierge come running.

  Tag, oh Tag was perfect. Complimentary and strong. Thick and long. Smooth yet rough. There, on the way to an island she’d never been to before, she clutched, squeezed him tight, and took him with her when she came.

  His face was pleated, the sounds in his throat almost animal as he worked through his release, and she couldn’t help smiling.

  She’d never seen anything as beautiful as Tag’s face during an orgasm.

  Especially one she’d caused.

  * * *

  The Crane Makai hotel on Oahu matched the island. The decor was soothing turquoise blues, jade greens, and soft golds. The front desk employees were smiley and professional, the guests milling about dressed in festive Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. Everyone was laid-back, including Rachel, but she would bet her bank account her relaxation had come thanks to the airplane sex.

  She pressed her lips together to hide her smile as she unpacked her clothes from her bags to the dresser in hers and Tag’s shared room. It wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination. There was an en suite bathroom and another off the main space, which boasted a living room and kitchenette. A sliding door opened to a balcony, but no one was above them, seeing how Tag had requested the top floor. He’d mentioned he liked to be on top, giving her a saucy wink at the front desk.

  Rachel could attest to that, so she hadn’t argued, simply tried not to look like a satisfied recipient of his attention.

  He appeared in the doorway now, hands bracing either side of the jamb as he leaned the top half of his body into her room. Her eyes went to his biceps, bunching beneath his short T-shirt sleeves. When she redirected her gaze to his face, he was shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry. I was uh…” She trailed off, at a loss for an excuse.

  “Objectifying me?” His smile split into a grin, and she felt her cheeks go warm. He gave up staying away and came to her, capturing her mouth in a soft kiss. “I’m yours to use up, Rachel.” He ran both palms along her arms and goose bumps sprang to the surface of her skin. “Ready to see the bar?”

  She had to blink out of the sex fantasy that had just formed. She was here for something other than pleasure.

  “Oh. Okay. Sure.”

  He kept hold of her hand and they headed out of the room, to the elevator, and then outside to the pools. She liked her hand in his, the way their palms fit together comfortably. Again she was struck with the memory she’d thought he was too much for her. How ridiculous was that? All of him seemed to fit her just fine.

  There were two pools, one a standard square with chairs lined up like soldiers around the edges and another lagoon-shaped pool with rocks, a slide, and covered cabanas. A bar stood between the two pools, teeming with women in bikinis and men in trunks or Speedos.

  “Wow. Busy.”

  “What the hell…” His face pinched as he studied the area. “It’s never this disorganized.”

  He kept hold of her, and she noticed that one of the women working the bar stopped what she was doing to examine their linked hands. Rachel felt her heart palpitate. For all she knew, the dark-haired beauty shaking up a fruity cocktail used to date Tag. Rachel’s stomach flopped, and she purposefully shook off the thought. Now was what mattered. The past didn’t matter, and the future would take care of itself, as it often did.

  Disorganized was a good word for the bar area. The long bar in the center of both pools was on a limited amount of concrete, forcing drinkers to smash together in a crooked line while waiting their turn to order. There was nowhere for the people ordering drinks to stand while they waited, and those who had received theirs hadn’t immediately returned to their designated areas, hanging out and further clogging the bar.

  “Hey, Tag. Aloha!”

  Rachel turned her attention to a wide-framed, wide-bodied Hawaiian man with a kind smile. He wore the loudest royal blue shirt she’d ever seen, matching the bright blue sunglasses resting on his wavy, short hair.

  “Greg.” He shook the other man’s hand and then introduced her. “This is Rachel. She’s advising on the bar project.” Tag turned to her. “Greg’s our on-site maintenance manager.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Bar project?” Greg’s eyebrows went up in interest.

  “Yeah. Speaking of, what’s going on with this mess?” Tag gestured to the crowd.

  “Swim-up bar’s shut.” Greg pointed to an area on the far side of the pool with the waterfall. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but sure enough, palm-frond decor was covering the bar and there was a small CLOSED sign hanging from one of the bamboo poles supporting the roof.

  “No one cleared that with me.” Tag took a step closer to Greg. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Sinks were acting up or something.”

  “How about you find out what the ‘or something’ is and get back with me on how fast you can have it repaired?” Tag’s voice dipped low with authority, sending a shiver through her. She’d never heard him speak like that. Who knew he could be sexier? “How long has it been closed?”

  Greg, despite his size, looked chagrined when he answered, “Few weeks.”

  “I want an answer in an hour.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Tag held Greg’s gaze and extended a hand for a farewell handshake. “Thanks for taking care of this.”

  Greg’s next smile was one of relief. When Tag released him, Greg looked to Rachel. “Enjoy the island.”

  When he hustled off—and yes, even at his size, it was a full hustle—she smiled up at Tag, who’d reclaimed her hand.

  “What?” His eyelids slipped, his entire demeanor snapping back into relax mode.

  “You pack a lot of authority for a guy so laid-back.” She wasn’t able to resist him either way.

  “I know how to get what I want.” He lowered his face to hers and stole a quick kiss. Against her mouth, he muttered, “You personally know how authoritative I can be, Dimple
s. You want to transfer that control, you let me know.”

  He angled through the crowd as Rachel turned over that enticing idea.

  They sidled behind the bar, not an easy task with the bar area packed and three bartenders slinging booze left and right. The two men and the woman behind the bar wore smiles on their faces and they kept the banter going as they worked.

  Rachel had personally witnessed worse behavior in a rush of this size. She doubted the staff was an issue. Tag was nothing if not a people person, and watching the way he’d engaged with Greg told her he was both respected and admired.

  Tag greeted each of the bartenders by name, informed them that Greg was taking a look at the swim-up bar today, and then ordered two drinks.

  “Want me to bring them out?” the woman he’d called Karina asked. She was the one who had eyed their joined hands with interest. Her almond-shaped eyes darted to Rachel briefly before zooming back to Tag.

  “No. You’re too busy,” he said. “We’ll wait.”

  “I’ll get it,” another bartender offered.

  Karina appeared taken aback but let it go.

  Rachel was getting some vibes from the other woman where Tag was concerned. Once the male bartender handed over the drinks, Tag accepted them and they navigated through the crowd again. He didn’t explain to guests why he’d cut the line and helped himself to drinks, and didn’t seem to care.

  “People are looking at us.” She flinched when a few dirty looks skated her way.

  “It’s because you look hot in your dress,” he said, his long legs taking them to an unoccupied cabana off to the side of the pool. On it rested a gold-plated RESERVED sign. “You can toss that underneath,” he instructed with a smile. “It’s for us.”

  “Membership has its privileges.” She dropped the sign in the sand. Her eyes went to the closed swim-up bar. “Don’t you want to handle that first?”

  With genuine confusion, he tilted his head. “I did. You saw me talk to Greg.”

  “You don’t want to question any other bartenders? Maybe talk to the hotel staff?”

  “You have to give people a chance to prove themselves, Dimples. Greg’s a big boy. If he screwed up, he can fix it. If he doesn’t fix it, I’ll take the next step.”