Twins for the Billionaire

by Sarah M. Anderson

  The sound made Sofia’s heart skip another beat, but not due to motion sickness. It was good, old-fashioned jealousy. God, she missed having someone who’d pick her up—literally or figuratively, it didn’t much matter—when life knocked her sideways.

  Just then, Eric leaned down to her, his arm tightening around her waist and his voice for her ears only. “There’s your room, Sofia.”

  And even though it wasn’t the same and Eric wasn’t hers, she leaned into him even more because she felt terrible and Eric was the strength she needed right now and whatever happened this weekend, they would always be friends. Even if she fell a little more in love with him, they were friends.

  The Nortons’ room was across the hall from hers. “Where’s your room?” she asked as Eric fumbled with her key card.

  “Next door.” He got her door open and basically set her inside, one hand still around her waist. He pivoted back to where Steve had gotten his door open. “Take as long as you guys need,” Eric said quietly, as if Meryl wasn’t right there. “It’s better to be late than be ill during the meetings.”

  “I’ll be fine...” But Steve closed the door and cut off Meryl’s weak protest.

  Eric pivoted Sofia into her hotel room. “I’m so sorry I’m such a mess,” she said, knowing it was pointless to apologize but apparently unable to help herself.

  Eric snorted as he sat her on the bed. “I’m sorry the flight sucked. That was one of the roughest landings I’ve ever had. Wasn’t entirely sure the plane was going to hold together.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She’d wondered the same thing, right about the time she’d stopped breathing. “Maybe we can take the train home?” she said, trying to make a joke and failing.

  “The weather is supposed to be clearer on Sunday,” he promised. “If it looks bad, we can make alternative arrangements.” Then he knelt before her and picked up one of her feet. Sofia was aware that her pretty new silk top was plastered to her back with sweat and the rain had done a number on her hair and she probably looked one step removed from a drowned rat. She certainly didn’t feel much better than one.

  But then Eric moved. Slowly, he slid the cuff of her trouser up and pulled her brand-new Stuart Weitzman flat off her foot. There wasn’t anything strange about him seeing her bare leg. It was just a leg. God only knew he’d seen that and more back when they’d spent half a summer splashing in a pool.

  But the fact that Eric was removing her shoes for her? Undressing her?

  Heat flashed down her back again, which was just ridiculous. This was not a seduction. She looked like hell and felt worse and they were supposed to be getting ready for meetings with the mayor and the board of aldermen and she was not letting Eric distract her with all his tenderness and certainly not with these...

  Eric’s fingertips gently caressed her calf and stroked along the top of her foot. The touch sent sparks of heat arcing up her body, burning her with desire. Her eyes fluttered shut and she had to brace her arms against the bed to keep from toppling into him.

  His hands moved over her ankles, up her calves again. He warmed her skin with his palms, a strong and steady touch, and she couldn’t help but think back to that kiss in the car, the one that had managed to awaken every single sexual need and desire she’d locked away over the last year and a half.

  With Eric kneading the muscles of her legs, slowly moving up higher and higher, she no longer felt clammy and sick. She felt...

  Good. Warm and safe and cared for. God, she’d missed feeling this way.

  “Sofia,” he said, his voice soft.

  She wasn’t sure if it was a question or not. And honestly, it didn’t matter. They were friends, weren’t they? And friends helped each other out. They had fun together. They comforted each other when things went wrong—and that plane ride had been very, very wrong.

  Friends didn’t let something like a few billion dollars or a private jet or luxury clothing get in the way of a friendship.

  And really, once the trappings of money were removed—weren’t they just a man and a woman? Weren’t they made to fit together?

  God, how she wanted to be comforted. To be touched like Eric was touching her now. She wanted to be the one taking the attention and affection instead of giving them.

  “Sofia?” he said again, his voice sending low flutters through her belly.

  Really, no matter what the question was, the answer was simple. “Yes.”

  His hands slid to a stop on the curve of her calves. Funny how she’d never really thought of calves as being particularly sensual until now. “Will you lie down and rest for a bit?”

  She looked at him then. One of the most powerful men in Chicago—and quite possibly the country, to say nothing of the world—was on his knees before her, waiting for her answer. She uncurled her fingers from where she’d fisted the bedclothes and reached out to stroke his cheek. It was still early—not even eleven yet—and his jaw was smooth. “Only if you join me.”

  His eyes widened as he sucked in air. “Give me a few.” With that, he pushed back off his heels. She heard a door open and shut and then she was alone.

  Sofia dropped her head in her hands. She could still feel his hands on her legs, stroking and caressing her. She could still feel his arm around her waist, refusing to let her stumble through the hotel. For that matter, she could still feel his hand surrounding hers, holding on through the turbulence. He’d refused to let go.

  She could still feel his lips against hers, his tongue tracing the path of her lips, her name soft on his breath. Eric had kissed her like she was the air he couldn’t breathe without.

  He was taking care of her. He wanted her to rest.

  He was going to come back in here.

  And she still looked like hell.

  That thought finally got her to move. She downed the rest of her ginger ale and took stock. This was a really nice hotel room—king-size bed with a plush duvet, a velvet-covered sofa next to a coffee table and a television almost as big as David had ever bought. She went to the bathroom—even the toiletries were top-of-the-line. Of course they were. Eric Jenner wouldn’t settle for less.

  She recoiled at her reflection. Her hair had come loose from the bun and her makeup was shot. And yet, Eric had still sat there, staring up at her as if she were the only woman in the world. The shirt was a total loss, so she stripped it off, leaving her in only her camisole. And she didn’t want to nap—or do anything else—in these trousers. Quickly, she washed her face—but then she remembered she didn’t have her toiletry kit. Her luggage was being delivered separately by a bellhop.

  She’d never stayed in a hotel that had bellhops who carried up one danged suitcase before. It was probably a great thing—but she really needed her stuff now.

  She was using the facilities when there was a knock on the door. “One second,” she called out, washing her hands quickly. But then she heard voices, both male.

  Wait, what?

  She cracked open the bathroom door to see Eric standing in an open door that...led to his room? Oh. Oh. Her room was connected to his. Of course it was. He had an executive suite. And her room was right next to his.

  It shouldn’t be a big deal, that he could walk into her room or she into his. It wasn’t anything more intimate than removing her shoes, for God’s sake. But it felt like the last barrier to truly spending the weekend in his arms had just been removed. They didn’t have to walk out into the hall where Steve and Meryl might hear or see them.

  Eric said, “Yes, that one goes in here. The other one goes in my room,” as he looked up. When he saw her, his face softened as his gaze took in her face, her now-bare arms. He held up a finger to her, the universal sign for hold on.

  She nodded and shut the door again, collapsing back against it. Their rooms connected. He wanted her. He’d already started to undres
s her.

  She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him.

  But even as that thought occurred to her, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her color was almost back to normal and she didn’t look like she was on the verge of passing out again. Her hair wasn’t great, though, so she unpinned it and combed it out with her fingers. She couldn’t sleep with it pulled back like that, anyway.

  She heard a door shut and then Eric said, “Do you need anything from your bag?”

  “No,” she fibbed. “I’ll be right out.”

  “No rush.”

  Oh, but it felt like a rush. If she were going to throw herself at Eric—and that did look more and more likely—she would be jeopardizing her job and putting both of them in an awkward position. Steve and Meryl were right across the hall, so the risk of gossip spreading in the office was huge.

  But damn it all, she needed him. She needed a weekend where she wasn’t going through the motions of looking fine. She wanted to be fine and she knew Eric could give her that. He already had.

  Sofia took one last look at her reflection. The hair was okay. She would prefer a little under-eye concealer, but the whole look wasn’t too bad.

  Have fun. Smile for yourself. That’s what her mom had said. And Eric? He’d said nearly the same thing, adding in that he wanted to take care of her. And it was so clear from his actions in the last few hours that he didn’t just mean a satisfying romp in bed. He really was taking care of her.

  Her resolve set, she opened the door and stepped out.

  The room was empty.

  Ten

  Sofia hesitated in the doorway of the suite. Not only was Eric’s room much bigger than hers was, it was much grander. There was a dining room table set for four with fine china and crystal goblets. The kitchen—not a kitchenette, but a real kitchen with full-size stainless steel appliances and granite countertops—was off to the left. She took another step in, her feet sinking into the plush carpeting. The couches in the sitting area were similar to the one in her room, but they were longer and deeper and had luxurious-looking throw pillows on them. This place was far more spacious than the apartment she’d lived in growing up.

  Okay, she thought. If she had to arrange travel for Eric in the future, this was the sort of room he needed. She’d do well to keep that in mind. She was trying to be a professional here. True, a barefoot professional in a camisole, but a professional nonetheless.

  Then all thoughts of professionalism came to a screeching halt when Eric appeared in a doorway across the room. He’d unbuttoned his shirt and was working his cuff links loose. Even though he had on a white T-shirt underneath, there was something about seeing him unbuttoned that sent another shiver down Sofia’s back.

  Her nipples tightened underneath her camisole at the sight of him and that physical reaction had nothing to do with friendship.

  She crossed her arms in front of her traitorous nipples. “So this is the kind of room you need when you travel?”

  He notched an eyebrow at her, which made him look amused. “It is. In fact, when I come to St. Louis, I usually stay in this suite. I like the views of the park.” He motioned to the windows over his shoulder. Sofia had a view of buildings, but Eric had a sweeping vista of a huge green park.

  “The next best thing to a view of a lake?”

  His smile deepened and she got the feeling that she’d pleased him. “It is.”

  They looked at each other for a moment. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do in a situation like this. After all, they weren’t acting in their capacity as boss and employee, but they weren’t quite operating within the normal bounds prescribed by “old friends,” either. She felt stuck. “I didn’t realize our rooms connected,” she said dumbly.

  “I hope it’s okay with you that I opened them up?” Then he began to slide his shirt off his shoulders. No, that was not the same body she remembered from all those years ago. Eric had filled out. His white T-shirt strained across his chest and his biceps. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he wasn’t lean and lanky anymore, either. She smiled as she looked at his biceps. There was an inch of paler skin showing just below the cuff of the sleeve before his arm turned a deep golden brown. She stared in fascination at that strip of skin. Redheads with a tan were so very rare.

  He was so rare.

  She had no right to be in this deluxe suite with him, no right to be staring at that strip of skin. She had no right to him—but she wanted him all the same. Just for the weekend. Just for herself.

  Sofia took a deep breath and let her arms fall to her side. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  His eyes darkened as his gaze fell to her breasts. Her nipples tightened even more, jutting out through the thin fabric of the camisole. She swore she heard him growl. But instead of pouncing, he said, “Feeling better?”

  “A little.”

  He moved closer to her and she stepped into him. They stopped just short of each other and he lifted his hand to brush her hair away from her face. “Hi,” he said softly, cupping her cheek in his palm.

  She leaned into his touch. They’d spent the whole morning together, but this? She didn’t feel like she was standing in front of Eric Jenner, eligible bachelor billionaire. Without his bespoke shirts and other trappings of wealth, she was just standing with Eric, her friend. She hesitated before she jumped into the gap, resting her hands on the narrow vee of his waist. His body radiated heat underneath her hands, all the hotter now because he wasn’t wearing his jacket and shirt. “Were we going to lie down?”

  “Absolutely.” He stroked his thumb over the apple of her cheek, his gaze on her lips. “Were we going to sleep?”

  Heat flashed through her body, stronger and more insistent than what she’d felt in the car. Then, she’d been nervous about leaving the twins and the flight. All of that was behind her now—but the flight had left her drained. “We had a rough landing, Eric. And I don’t get to nap very much. Let me just...” She stepped in closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her nipples ached as they brushed against him. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Dear God, she’d missed the feeling of a man. “Will you hold me?”

  His arms did not come around her and for a paralyzing second, she thought he would say no. But before she could back away, Eric bent down and swept her legs out from under her, just like Steve had done to Meryl. “Eric!”

  “I’ve got you,” he said close to her ear. It was what she needed to hear. More than that, it was what she needed to believe.

  And, as Eric cradled her lovingly, she did believe it. She relaxed into his arms and let him carry her weight. “Pick a room,” he told her. “Mine or yours?”

  She didn’t have to think about it. “Yours.” That way, if whatever this was didn’t pan out, she could go back to her own room and not have to smell him on her pillows.

  She should not be doing this but she seemed powerless to do anything but let him carry her to the very big bed. “Do you mind if I take my trousers off? I don’t want to wrinkle them.”

  Such an innocent-sounding request, but there was no mistaking the fact that he’d be one step closer to naked. That didn’t stop her from saying, “Go right ahead.”

  He sat her on the edge of the bed and stepped back. She looked up at him—and not at the buttons he was undoing. He paused and touched her cheek again.

  She couldn’t hold back the happy sigh. It’d been so long. She knew she was being dramatic but it almost felt like her first time again—and in a way, it was. Her first time with Eric.

  Everything about her wanted to reach out for him, pull him in close and trust that he would be right there if she needed him, however she needed him.

  Instead, she stood and undid her own button and zipper. The white trousers were more or less a total loss—the rain had seen to that. But she needed to be close to Eric right now, neede
d the comfort his body could provide. What she was feeling for him wasn’t just about sex. Not entirely, anyway. It was about something more.

  She tried not to stare at his bulge as he shucked his pants, but it wasn’t easy because... Oh, my.

  Grinning to herself, she kicked her trousers aside and gave thanks to Clarice, who had seen fit to include undergarments in her total wardrobe makeover. Instead of the serviceable cotton she normally wore Sofia had on a pair of high-cut silk panties with lace around the waist. They were a sheer nude color, all the better to be worn under a pair of white pants—and the first thong that she had ever owned. Clarice would hear of nothing else because she claimed that a visible panty line would just ruin the look.

  Sofia felt exposed and vulnerable. But it wasn’t a bad feeling, she realized. Instead of anxiety, tendrils of anticipation uncurled through her limbs, making her body feel heavy and needy.

  For him. For the gorgeous man waiting for her in a very large bed. He pulled the covers back and slid in first, patting the bed beside him. “Come here.”

  Sofia had not had a wild adolescence. She’d been raised in a fairly strict religious household that frowned upon casual dating and sex and besides, an accidental pregnancy would have made achieving her goals harder. She had been a virgin when she’d started dating David. She’d never been in bed with anyone else.

  Except for now. Was there any turning back once she slid next to Eric and put her arms around his waist? Was there any hope of holding a part of herself back so she wouldn’t fall in love with him all over again? Because if she were lucky, this...connection would last the weekend—and not a moment longer. A weekend was long enough to have some fun and reclaim her sexuality with Eric’s help without it blowing up in her face. For a few days, she could pretend she belonged not only in his life, but in his bed.

  A weekend would be enough. It had to be.

  Eric’s gaze drifted over her camisole, her bare legs. His eyes darkened and he held out his hand for her and she knew there was no turning back. She scooted over to him. He pulled the covers up over them and settled her in the curve of his arm. She wrapped her own arm around his waist and slung her leg over his. And then, for the first time in what felt like months, she exhaled. “Eric...”