A Taste of Heaven (Billionaires' Secrets Book 3)

by Jennifer Lewis

  Thoughtful.

  Desire unfurled in her belly. “The shower.” She walked into the large bathroom that adjoined her dressing room and turned the giant gold-plated faucets. A reassuring roar of warm water drowned out sound.

  Louis followed her into the bathroom. Before she knew what was happening, his lips were over hers and his arms around her back.

  She shuddered with a powerful mixture of relief and longing. Nothing felt more natural than being held tight in Louis’s arms.

  How could that be?

  “What are we doing?” she asked, when they finally pulled apart.

  “I think they call that kissing.”

  She blinked. “Your face is still dirty. You’ll mess up my makeup.”

  “Too late.” His eyes glittered. “But it’s okay because you’re coming in the shower with me.”

  “I just had a shower,” she stammered.

  “You can’t be too clean.”

  His fingers were already unbuttoning the crisp, striped blouse she’d donned in her attempts to look and feel “respectable.”

  Why did she care so much about the respect of people who didn’t even know her?

  Her skin sizzled with awareness as his fingertips brushed her bra. His breath was warm on her neck, quickening along with his obvious arousal.

  “What if we’re interrupted?” she whispered.

  “They won’t interrupt you in the shower.” He tugged her shirt from her fitted, A-line skirt.

  Heat flickered deep inside her. “I suppose you’re right.”

  The room was filling with steam, only some of it generated by the hot water pouring from the six ergonomically designed, gold showerheads.

  She heard the zwick of her zipper, as Louis’s hands moved lower. Her hands wandered of their own accord over his smooth, tanned skin.

  A series of loud bangs made Louis freeze. “What was that?”

  “It’s the water pipes. They’re from the 1890s. They get air in them or something. Tarrant always meant to get the house replumbed, but it would mean tearing out the old plaster walls and...hold on, let me stop it before the noise brings Beatrice back.”

  She leaned into the shower, which splashed her shirt as she turned the faucets off for a second.

  In the momentary silence, she heard the wail of a police siren. Fear crowded her brain. “We can’t do this.”

  “What, take a shower?” Louis’s voice was muffled by her breasts. He’d crouched to lower her skirt and had somehow gotten distracted.

  “No, this, anything! Are we insane? The house is surrounded by armed police and aggressive reporters who’ll do anything for a story.”

  “You shouldn’t let yourself get distracted by things you can’t control.” His lips brushed her belly button, making her insides flutter.

  Desperation welled inside her. “I don’t feel like I can control anything. Even my own body. Although my brain is screaming at me to take cover, all I want to do is get in that shower and...and...”

  Make love with you.

  Even in her feverish state, she didn’t say the words. There had been no talk of love between them.

  Louis rose and placed his hands on her waist. “Didn’t you receive some advice to follow your heart?”

  Sam frowned. “Madame Ayida? Oh, please, I’m sure she just makes that stuff up to entertain the tourists. What kind of a cliche is ‘follow your heart,’ anyway?”

  “A powerful one.” He buried his face in her neck and pressed his lips softly to her skin. “I followed mine here.”

  His deep voice penetrated her fog of anxiety. “Your heart?” He looked up, and met her gaze with those haunting eyes. “I do have one, you know, despite what they say.”

  “And what is it telling you?” She spoke slowly, her voice shaking. Maybe he’d say something that would let them both off the hook.

  That would be fine. Good even.

  Her heart hammered behind her ribs.

  “It’s telling me I’ve met a very special woman. A woman so generous and caring that people assume she must have an ulterior motive.”

  Frowning, he looked into her eyes. “A woman who has so much love to give that the world can’t seem to absorb it all and keeps throwing it back in her face.”

  He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “And I’m not fool enough to let you throw away what we’ve found together.” Sam’s heart squeezed. She managed to keep her breathing under control. “What have we found?”

  She cursed herself instantly after asking the stupid question. What did she want to hear? That he loved her?

  How lame could she get? She didn’t even want him to love her. They couldn’t have any kind of relationship given the weird family situation, so the whole thing was just pointless and stupid and painful and...

  A whimper escaped her mouth as Louis took her into his embrace and held her so tight she couldn’t possibly escape even if she wanted to.

  Which she didn’t.

  In a swift motion he lifted her into the shower and kissed her hard as warm water cascaded over them.

  “I’m still wearing my underwear,” she protested, when he let her up for air.

  “Not for long,” he growled. He unfastened her bra with a deft movement of his fingers, and tugged her soaked panties down over her legs.

  He rose, dripping. “Much better.” His voice was hoarse with the longing that echoed between them. Louis’s hands roamed over her body, smearing the water over her skin until she moaned and writhed under his touch.

  His arousal had gathered into a hard arrow of need, pointing right at her. She took him in her hand, and he released a low groan.

  “I want you inside me,” she murmured, hardly able to believe she was saying it aloud. “Now.”

  Louis replied with his body, entering her with swift passion that made her gasp with pleasure.

  He hadn’t answered her question about what they’d found. He didn’t need to. They’d found...this. Physical closeness, of a raw, intense and human kind that she’d never experienced before. It added a dimension to their emotional connection that made her feel...whole.

  They writhed and twisted under the steady flow of water. She let her hands wander over the masculine curves of his body, into his damp hair.

  Louis kissed her face and neck and held her steady in his arms as she let wave after wave of vicious pleasure wash over her.

  It took her a moment to realize Louis was saying something. His voice blended with the roar of the water and the roar of sensation and emotion inside her, but his words snuck through the curtain of bliss and she realized he was trying to answer her question.

  “We’ve found—” His words were guttural, filled with emotion. “We’ve found—” he repeated and then he hesitated, still moving inside her, talking to her with his body.

  Then he stopped.

  The interruption was jarring, and she opened her eyes. Louis stared at her, water cascading over his striking face.

  “Sam, will you marry me?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sam disentangled herself from Louis and flew out of the shower, half skidded on the marble floor and grabbed a towel before fleeing into the bedroom.

  Had he really asked what she thought he had asked?

  No. It wasn’t possible. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

  Her heart thundered and her brain raced like a roller coaster.

  “Sam.” Louis appeared in the steamy doorway, a towel wrapped around his middle. “That wasn’t quite the response I was hoping for.”

  “I’m sorry. I had to get out. I thought I…I thought you—” She didn’t know what she thought. Mostly she just wanted to get away from Louis and the alarming pull he seemed to have on her.

  Louis moved up behind her, still dripping. She held herself steady and tried not to shiver as he buried his face in her wet hair. “Will you?”

  Sam gulped. “Will I what?”

  “Marry me.”

  He said it simply, with no roguish cha
rm or humor.

  Like he really and truly meant it.

  Sam wheeled to face him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

  Sam’s chest tightened. She stepped away from him. “There’s a lot more to a marriage than great sex. Trust me, I’ve been married three times and there wasn’t great sex in any of them.”

  “Maybe that’s part of the problem.” She could hear humor in his husky voice.

  She recoiled from him. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m done being married.” Her voice rose, trembling with emotion. “Three times is enough for one lifetime. I’ll always cherish the memories of my time with Tarrant, but I’m not going to ever marry again.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  Sam wheeled around, heart pounding. “Don’t tell me what I mean! I don’t need a father and I don’t need a big brother, either. I’ve lived and learned a lot of things the hard way and I can make up my own mind, whether you like it or not.”

  She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Too late she realized she’d just slammed herself into her walk-in closet.

  Hopefully Louis would have the decency to go away. Preferably the way he came, so no one would see him.

  Her breath came in ragged gasps. Marry him? Was this some kind of cruel joke at her expense?

  All she wanted was to be left alone.

  “Sam.” His low voice filtered through the wooden slats. “You’re in a closet.”

  “I know,” she half shouted, so angry at him she wanted to scream. Who was he to play with her emotions? She was fragile before she met him and now—

  A half sob caught in her throat.

  “Let me in.”

  “No!”

  “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff and I’ll—”

  “Louis, it’s not funny,” she panted. “Please, just leave me in peace. I need to be alone.”

  “No, you don’t. You’ve spent way too much time alone and you need to be with me.”

  “Ha,” was all she could manage to say, as his words rattled around in her poor overtaxed brain.

  Then a welcome retort found its way to her lips. “You’re crazy. You read that article. I’m The Merry Widow, remember? The gold-digging tramp who married Tarrant for his money.” She fisted her hands into a red crushed-velvet dress. “Everywhere I go, there’s some maniac with a camera hoping to capture a picture of me in a compromising position so they can make money from my miserable existence.” She tugged at the dress so hard that it popped off the hanger. “No one wants to be a part of that. No one should be a part of that.” Her voice ended in a whimper.

  She saw the knob turn and couldn’t summon the strength to stop it. Louis eased into the dim space of the closet and closed the door behind him.

  It was pretty big, as closets go, but it was filled with hanging clothes so there was less than two feet of space between them. His freshly clean, male scent tickled her nostrils. Drops of water glistened on his skin and hung from his damp hair.

  “You came after me, remember? I was just going about my own business.”

  Sam bit her lip. “Maybe it was a mistake.”

  “You opened Pandora’s box.” His eyes glittered in the half-light sneaking in through a crack in the door.

  “The Greek myth where a woman gets curious and unleashes evils on the world?” She clutched her towel closer.

  He did blame her.

  “Yes, slander, greed, vanity, envy, falsehood, scandal...” He cocked his head. “Those things do seem to be loose in our world right now.”

  She avoided his glance. “I should have left you alone.”

  “No.” He seized her hand. Her fingers trembled inside his hot grasp. “There was one more thing in the box, the most important one, that didn’t escape. She didn’t let it.” His eyes met hers. “Hope.”

  Something flashed between them as he held her gaze and mouthed the word, so soft she could barely hear it.

  “Hope,” she repeated, unable to stop herself.

  “You awakened something in me, Sam, something that wasn’t there before.” A flicker of confusion crossed his brow. “I always thought I knew what I wanted in life, and that I had it, too. But since I met you, I know I want more.” He squeezed her hand. “I need more.”

  Her heart constricted, as if he held it in his hand, too. “I’m sure you’ll find it.” Her voice sounded thin. “With some nice girl who doesn’t have a cartload of baggage and a crowd of vultures circling around her head.”

  “I don’t want a nice girl.” He edged closer to her. The closet was getting hot, water drops on their skin almost evaporating into steam. “I want a woman. One who isn’t afraid to make the life she wants. That’s you, Sam. You’ve been brave enough to start over again and again, and you’re not done yet.”

  She looked past him into the gloom, where her much photographed outfits, each one laced with memory, hung in regular rows. “I’m not done with life, but I’m all done with marriage. Three is enough.”

  “Says who? Zsa Zsa would disagree. And you two have a fair amount in common if this wardrobe is anything to go by.” He fingered a bold-patterned Anna Sui gown.

  Sam lifted her chin. “You’re very argumentative.”

  “It’s part of my charm.”

  His hands wandered through her clothes, plundering them, his fingers roaming through the luxurious fabrics just as they’d roved over her skin. Which tingled with...annoyance. “Why are you in my closet?”

  He hesitated, his eyes wandering to her mouth, which twitched, and her throat, which gulped, before replying, “because you’re here.” Louis lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. “I love you, Sam.”

  The words closed around her heart like a fist, then swept away on a wave of panic. “You can’t.”

  “I don’t take orders well.” His golden eyes glinted a challenge.

  “Everything’s too complicated.”

  “Nothing complicated about love.” He brushed a drop of water from her lip with his thumb. “Do you love me, Sam?”

  She froze. Yes screamed across her brain. “No.”

  He cocked his head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You’re shockingly arrogant, you know that?” Her voice rose.

  “Yes.” A smile flickered across his lips. “I know what I want and I’m not afraid to go after it.”

  “Maybe you should think about someone else for a change.” Her hands shook. “I have responsibilities to this family and to the whole Hardcastle corporation.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And to yourself.”

  “Exactly.” Sam shoved a hand through her tangled hair. “I’m thirty-one and I’ve been through three husbands. There’s something wrong with that picture, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it at all.” He held her gaze. “It’s unique. It’s your journey and you’re a beautiful person.”

  Beautiful?

  Sam cringed at the thought of what she must look like right now. Lucky she couldn’t see herself. Louis of course looked breathtaking. The shaft of light through the closet door sculpted his torso in gold, while water dripped erotically from his tousled dark hair.

  “What is going through that intriguing mind of yours?” She tilted her head. “Just mulling some artistic options.” A smile slid across his lips. “As you should be. You’ve a lot to accomplish, Sam, and some lost time to make up for.”

  “As it happens, I agree with you there. I’ve decided that I will take up painting. And I won’t even be mad at myself if I stink at it.”

  “That’s the attitude. I knew you’d see it my way eventually. Now, back to my other question.”

  Sam shrank into her towel. “I can’t marry you. It’s preposterous that you even thought of it. Even if you weren’t my stepson.” She shuddered involuntarily. “We barely know each other.”

  “We have a deeper connection than most people.”

  She
narrowed her eyes. “Is this some New Orleans voodoo psychic angle you’re working here? I’m not as gullible as I look.”

  “Remember what Madame Ayida said?”

  “Follow my heart. Yeah, sure. I’m not even sure there’s one in there after all this time.” She glanced mockingly down to where her hands crossed over her towel. “Don’t forget she also mentioned the two roads, neither of which seemed to lead anywhere I’d want to go.”

  Louis looked at her for a second, then laughed. “How do you know if you haven’t walked on one yet? Didn’t she say one is familiar and one is strange?”

  Sam crossed her arms over her chest, which left her fumbling for her towel. “If you look at it that way, then it’s getting married that’s familiar, and not getting married that would be strange. I’ll go with strange.”

  “Fine. We can live in sin.”

  She couldn’t help laughing at his deadpan comeback.

  Then her smile faded. “I’m sure the tabloid press would enjoy that.”

  “Absolutely. We’ll really help ’em sell some copies. Just think, if we have a bunch of kids, they could accuse you of being mother to your own grandchildren.” His eyes shone with humor.

  Sam froze. Children. She’d told him how much she wanted a child, so his comment was a low blow.

  “Tarrant’s children are my children,” she said stiffly.

  “Including me, I guess.”

  “Yes.” She gave him the hardest stare she could muster. “That’s my preference.”

  “You can’t have kids your own age.”

  “Sure you can.”

  They stared at each other.

  He blinked first.

  “You think I’m stubborn,” he said, eyes glinting. “You’re downright delusional.”

  “Then leave me alone with my delusions. We’re happy together.”

  Louis stared at her for a moment, then laughed, slowly. “You’ve certainly got the wardrobe to be a delusional billionaire widow.” Then his eyes narrowed. “But I won’t let you throw your life away.”

  He leaned in until his words vibrated off her skin. “You’re meant to be a mother, and not some kind of fake, fairy-godmother type of mother, but a real mother who has to get up in the night because her baby is crying, and has to miss an important meeting because her toddler has a fever and has to relearn long division to help her nine-year-old with his homework.”