The Rich List Series: Contemporary Romance Box Set (Millionaire, Billionaire, CEO)

by Hunter, Talia

  “Hi,” said Geena.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” The woman smiled. “May I get you a drink?”

  “A beer for me, please,” said Damien. “And a glass of the Penfolds Reserve Chardonnay for Geena.”

  Isobelle nodded and returned to the kitchen.

  Geena raised her eyebrows at Damien and he frowned for a moment before figuring out her silent question.

  “Oh. Isabelle’s my housekeeper. She has a room downstairs.”

  Geena shook her head. Of course his housekeeper lives downstairs. I’ve wandered into Downton Abby by mistake, and he’s lord of the manor. “Any butlers or footmen I should know about?”

  His mouth twitched. “It’s usually just Isobelle, except when I host a business dinner. I’m not difficult to look after.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  Damien looked about to retort, but Isobelle reappeared with their drinks on a tray, and he took them and handed the wineglass to her instead. “I won’t need you for anything tonight, Isobelle.”

  “Your dinner’s in the oven. Would you like me to serve it?”

  Damien shot a glance at Geena as though daring her to comment. “No, we’ll manage.”

  Isobelle smiled politely at them both. “Have a lovely evening.” She crossed the big room and went out through another door.

  “She’s an excellent cook,” said Damien.

  “Does she make you dinner every night?”

  “When I’m home.” He held out his glass of beer. “Cheers.”

  They clinked glasses and drank. The chardonnay was full-bodied and crisp, with a subtle hint of oak. Geena licked her lips. Of course it tastes amazing. It probably cost more than my weekly grocery bill. She looked curiously towards where the delicious smell was coming from. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Want to take a look?” He led the way into the kitchen and Geena tried not to gape. There was enough bench space that he could start his own restaurant. A bowl of fruit was on the breakfast bar, but the fruit looked too perfect to be real. Not a single bruise, not even on the bananas, and the apples were so glossy they might have been sprayed with lacquer.

  Beyond the kitchen was a dining table with two places set, complete with linen napkins and a flickering candle as though it were a fancy restaurant.

  “It looks like a show home,” she said. “Like nobody actually lives here, but it’s dressed up to impress visitors.” The aroma that was making her mouth water seemed part of the illusion. She couldn’t see anything cooking, and the kitchen was so spotless, it was hard to believe anyone had ever prepared food in it.

  He shot her a sideways glance. “Isobelle keeps it tidy.”

  Tidy? More like OCD-level perfection. If she opened the cupboards, would she find cans and jars lined up neatly with all their labels turned to the front? “Doesn’t it freak you out having someone cleaning up after you all the time? I’d be scared to mess anything up.”

  He chuckled. “I work a lot, so having everything else in my life taken care of is a necessity.” He opened the oven and the delicious smell got stronger. There were a couple of covered dishes inside and he peeked to see what they held. “Looks like coq au vin, with a creamy mash, and vegetables, and there’s a salad over there.” He pointed to a bowl in the corner.

  She shook her head. It was all too much. This place, the view, the wine, and the dinner all ready for them. It couldn’t be more different from her normal throw-something-together dinner in the tiny room above her store. It hadn’t been an elevator ride to get up here, but a journey in a spaceship. She was surprised she could breathe the air.

  “You really live like this?” She said it more to herself than to him.

  Instead of answering, he pressed her against the bench and kissed her, his tongue flicking into her mouth. Her body instantly responded, her heart quickening and an ache starting between her thighs. One of his hands cupped the back of her neck and the other found the small of her back, tugging her closer. She fumbled her glass of wine onto the counter without looking. He was hard, his length pushing into her belly. Oh yes. Since giving him the sex toy lesson at her store, she’d been on a short fuse, with raw, hot lust simmering just below her surface. Now she felt ready to explode.

  But there was something about being here, in his multi-million-dollar kitchen, that made her hesitate. Every shiny surface was reflecting the fact she didn’t belong. Any minute she was going to see Not Good Enough spelled out in the steam rising from the coq au vin.

  Stop it, Geena.

  “Wait,” she said breathlessly, remembering the fancy nightdress she’d bought with her. Putting it on was sure to make her feel more confident. “I need a few minutes to get ready.”

  “Get ready?” he quirked an eyebrow.

  “You’ll see.”

  He let her go reluctantly and she went back to the living room to collect her embarrassing bag and escape into his palatial bathroom. She undressed, then pulled on the lace nightdress, thankful she’d brought it. Would he like it? She ran her hands over it while she took a look in the mirror. Plunging neckline, check. Short hemline, check. Sheer fabric that showed peek-a-boo hints of her nakedness underneath, check.

  She reached for the door handle and hesitated. What if he hated it? He’d be used to women who wore designer lingerie from expensive stores. Would he think she looked cheap?

  That’s enough, Geena.

  It was good to be impulsive sometimes, to jump into things without thinking them to death first. She didn’t want to let the fact that he was loaded trigger her insecurities and make her hear her mother’s voice in her head.

  Besides, she had a selection of toys in her bag, and maybe she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d normally share Damien’s bed, but her profession meant she had a few tricks to show him. I’m qualified to use sex toys and talk sweetly to my customers, and both of those things I can use. If she could help him improve his interview skills that would prove her worth, wouldn’t it?

  Squaring her shoulders, Geena picked up the tattered bag and opened the door. Here goes nothing.

  10

  While Geena did whatever she was doing in the bathroom, Damien took off his tie, loosened his collar, and lounged on the living room couch with Rocky on the floor beside him. He sipped his beer and watched the boats come in and out of the harbor, but his thoughts were troubled.

  Why had he brought Geena here? Normally if he was going to spend the night with a woman, he took her to his suite at the Park Hyatt so he could leave whenever he wanted. The only other woman he’d brought into his apartment, and his bed, had been Cilla.

  Damien closed his eyes, trying to push the memory away. Nobody knew about him and Cilla. She’d been just twenty-one, eight years younger than him, and when they’d stepped over the line from friendship to lovers, their actions had been tainted with guilt. If Zac had ever found out, he and Damien would no longer be friends.

  Breathing deeply, Damien fought against the pain that came from thinking of her. Cilla’s death had been his fault. Well, mostly. She’d always been reckless and had put herself in a dangerous situation. But she’d only gone out that night because he’d hurt her. She’d looked for an escape from that hurt in the worst possible place.

  Problem was, Geena was just as impulsive and he couldn’t pretend he’d ever be able to control her.

  Making it clear he didn’t want a relationship with Geena might not have been enough. Could he make love to her without becoming emotionally involved? The last couple of days had been far too enjoyable for him to be certain. Perhaps he should have turned her down. Walked away.

  The bathroom door opened. Overnight bag in one hand, Geena stepped out.

  Damien sat up straight, his body snapping to attention. She looked incredible in a skimpy, emerald-green, lace dress that matched her eyes and gave him tantalizing glimpses of her gorgeous body.

  She was utterly beautiful and unlike any other woman he’d known. Her pink hair brushed her shoulders and her t
attoos were vivid on her skin. Her wildness was part of what made her so damn attractive, but it was the very thing he’d sworn to avoid.

  She stopped in front of him and put the bag down on the coffee table. Her eyes searched his face, a slight furrow between her brows. Was she looking for a sign of approval?

  Damien shook off his doubts. Cilla was gone, and he could put her out of his mind for one night. He could enjoy a few hours with an exciting, gorgeous woman without risking his heart. He’d already made it clear he didn’t want anything more than that.

  He stood, so he could take Geena by the shoulders and drew her close. “You’re stunning.” When he kissed her, she tasted so sweet he wanted to devour her. What was it about the taste of her, about the feel of her body, that drove him so crazy? He could kiss her forever, anticipating the pleasure that was to come.

  But after a few moments she put her hands on his chest to gently push him away. “I said I’d help you come across as more likeable in your interviews. Now’s the perfect time to practice being nice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Pretend I’m a journalist interviewing you. I’ll ask you a difficult question, and you keep your temper under control. And if you make your answer charming enough, you get to play with my toys.” She unzipped her bag and put an assortment of sex toys on the coffee table. He only recognized some of them. That was a cock ring, surely. And could that be a feather duster? Surely not. But he recognized the Vibra and was definitely curious about what it might feel like.

  His body was on high alert and he was tempted to tell her that games could wait. But stringing out the anticipation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. In fact, watching her move in that nightdress was rather enjoyable.

  She gave him a challenging look. “So, Mr. Courtney. Why did you announce on public television that the Cross was…?” She put one finger to her mouth in a thoughtful gesture. “Hmm, now what were your exact words? King’s Cross was a malignant tumor that should be surgically removed?”

  He winced. Had he really said that? “I’d recently lost a close friend and I was grieving.”

  “You also said you’d like to buy the entire suburb and wipe it off the map.”

  “That’s how I felt at the time.”

  “But not anymore?”

  He hesitated. This game wasn’t turning out to be as much fun as he’d imagined, not even with her current state of undress. “Not if it would mean tearing down your store,” he said after a moment.

  “Well, I’d have to admit your answer was semi-charming. But you didn’t smile.” She picked up the feather duster and brandished at him. “Good thing I brought this.”

  He blinked. “Because I might have a humorous expression hidden under a coating of dust?”

  “Take off your shirt and I’ll show you how it works.”

  He stepped close so he could slip one of her straps off her shoulder, exposing the top of one tempting breast. “How about you take this off and we’ll see if that makes me smile.”

  Her breathing quickened and her pupils were dilated. But she put her hand over his to stop him moving it further down. “You first.” Before he could respond, she turned the feather duster around and used the tip of its wooden handle to pop one of his buttons.

  “A multi-functional feather duster,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have expected it to be so practical.”

  She moved it down to pop another of his buttons. “It’s a tickler, not a duster. And what can I say? I’m skilled at what I do.” But when she tried to flick his third button undone, it wouldn’t budge. “Crap.”

  “Let me help.” He popped the rest of his buttons and pulled his shirt off.

  “It’s time for another question.” She held up the tickler. “And not smiling will have consequences.”

  “In that case, I’m keeping a straight face.”

  She ran the feathers lightly over his chest. His skin tingled in its wake and he had an overwhelming urge to wriggle like a six-year-old.

  “This question’s more difficult.” Her tone was stern. “One you seem to get asked a lot, but never give a reasonable answer to.”

  He groaned. “Let me guess. Why I’m refusing to rebuild the boarding house?”

  “Exactly. You should come up with a decent reply, and practice saying it in a way that doesn’t sound like you’re wishing the interviewer would contract a horrible disease.”

  “If only they would.”

  “Don’t make me use this again.” She waved the tickler in front of his chest so the feathers brushed him. He clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. Sure it tickled, but it also made him hyper-aware of every inch of exposed skin. He wanted her to run it down his naked body. And he wanted to use it on her.

  “Every time anyone asks you about it, your nostrils flare and your expression gets scary.”

  “Then they should stop asking.” He eased her other strap down and kissed her shoulder. Mmm. How did she taste so good? Running his finger over the top of her breast, he traced the curve to the hollow below her neck. Her skin was soft and there was far too much of it hidden under that nightdress. He pushed her hair back and ghosted his mouth across her earlobe, tickling her with his warm breath before pressing a soft kiss under her ear.

  She shivered with pleasure. But although her head dropped back to expose the length of her neck to him, she wasn’t entirely distracted. “That’s not going to happen. Maybe we should... Oh. That feels…” She gave a long, breathy sigh.

  Enough talking.

  “Time to move into the bedroom.” His voice came out husky.

  Her hands curled around the back of his neck, but she wasn’t quite beaten. “Um. First you should answer—”

  There was no way to stop her objections except by placing his mouth over hers. This time there were no interruptions, no second thoughts. Just her mouth, infinitely sweet, and her body against his, warm behind that flimsy nightdress and so tantalizing he could hardly stand it.

  He pushed it up and found it was loose enough that he could get his hands everywhere he wanted them to go, and she was wearing nothing underneath. Perfect.

  Shucking his trousers on the way to the bedroom, he eased them both onto the bed. He kissed from her lips, down her throat, to the tops of her breasts, and she arched into him, encouraging his lips. He loved the way she responded to him. The quickness of her breath, the heat from her skin, the way her fingernails raked across his back.

  Were he this aroused with any other woman, he might be tempted to move between her legs already. But he’d been imagining this since the moment he first laid eyes on Geena, and her sex toy lessons had been like hours of frustrating, intoxicating foreplay. Finally, he was going to get what he’d been dreaming of and he refused to rush it. No, I’m going to linger over every single delicious curve until neither of us can stand it a moment longer.

  In fact… He drew back a moment to look around, ignoring her sound of protest. Where’s that tickler? Ah, there it is.

  He ran it up her inner thigh, and she writhed and laughed. But when he reached the top of her thighs, she stopped squirming and spread her legs a little wider.

  “You like that?” he murmured.

  She nodded, her lower lip between her teeth. “Tickles,” she managed. Then gasped. “Oh. In a good way.”

  He pushed her nightdress up further and teased her for a while, running the feathers across her belly and thighs, then moving it back between her legs and flicking her lightly with it. First the tickler. Then when you’re ready to beg for release, I’ll explore you with my tongue.

  She groaned. “That feels—” She broke off with a grunt as something heavy landed on her belly. A large, furry animal scrabbled over her to find a place on the bed.

  “Rocky,” Damien scolded. “Way to ruin the moment.”

  The dog licked his nose, no doubt pleased to have so much company on the bed. His tail wagged over Geena’s face and she extracted herself so she could sit up.

  Damien rubbed Roc
ky’s head, then gently picked him up and carried him out of the bedroom. “Sorry, boy. You’ll have to make do with the couch.”

  “And you were complaining about Edward Scissor-claws?” Propped up on one elbow, Geena shook her head in mock reproach. “Does Rocky always try to join in?”

  “I don’t normally bring women here.”

  Geena raised her eyebrows. “Should I be flattered? Or is there somewhere really special you take the women you want to impress?”

  He shrugged. “Usually, I protect my privacy,” he said after a moment, because she was waiting for an answer and it seemed at least part of the reason. “But you need to know about me for the article.”

  She regarded him for a moment, and he had the feeling that her cool green eyes picked up more than she let on. Her hair was a little disheveled – in a sexy way – and although she’d pushed her nightgown down to cover herself, the lacy fabric teased him with glimpses of everything he wanted to see. And taste. And feel.

  He picked up the tickler. “Lie down.”

  But as he moved back onto the bed, Geena snatched it from him. “First I get to have a turn.”

  He was about to protest, until she ran the feathers up his thigh. The words disappeared and the noise that came out instead was half a moan of pleasure and half a strangled laugh.

  When she drifted the feathers up to his belly, it was almost unbearably ticklish. But when she dragged them across his cock, the sensation made him want to come. And when she used them on his balls while she took his shaft into her mouth, he thought he might explode.

  “Stop,” he gasped after what felt like an eternity, but was probably just a few minutes. “I can’t…” Instead of finishing the sentence, he pulled away. Close call. After spending the entire afternoon talking about sex, he was already on a knife’s edge. He wasn’t ready to lose control.

  Time for payback, to bring her to the brink. And beyond. He spread her legs and dropped his head to her thighs, eagerly licking between them. She tasted every bit as good as he’d imagined, and he felt himself swell even harder as he took his time exploring her.