The Billionaire Shifter's Curvy Match (Billionaire Shifters Club #1)

by Diana Seere

  Their bodies were nude enough, and the press of torso to torso put their heartbeats in rhythm, the Beat coming through like a symphony, her eyes wide with shock as she recognized it too.

  He felt it but the Beat was no match for the blind arousal that coursed through his blood like a sickness, and Lilah was the cure.

  His fingers sought her red nub, swollen and aching for him, her sex slick and sweet like an appetizer. Pushing her against the thick farmer’s table, he lifted her up by the ass, hands sinking into the creamy fullness of her, then spread her legs wide, her scent wafting up and making him delirious.

  While instinct drove him to sink into her and ride out this maddening urge, he was a gentleman, after all.

  Ladies first.

  “What are you—oh!” Lilah said, her voice fractured by the touch of his tongue against her honeyed juices, legs strained and tight. Within seconds he felt her fingers sink into his hair and he smiled against her soft, succulent lips.

  Let go, he told her without speaking. Just let go.

  She obeyed the order, a deep moan vibrating from beneath her navel through those gorgeous lips, and as Gavin stole a look, he wished he could pause time and simply study her. Lilah was a vision of unrestrained sensual beauty, head tipped back, breasts pulled high as her back arched, her thighs now pulling closer to his cheeks, encasing him.

  But again, a gentleman keeps his promises.

  More strokes, the sweet rolling tease of her hooded pleasure point against his tongue and she was pushing against him, his finger slipping inside her soaking walls, now ready for what would come next.

  “You,” she whispered. “You.”

  He moved up and kissed her, her mouth searching for his, eyes closed and hands roaming over his back. The animal within began to emerge and he knew he needed to be in her—now right now oh yes—or he would reveal his true nature.

  She widened her legs and wrapped her heels around his hips as he plunged inside her, the throb at the base of his cock slowing and deepening, taking over his heartbeat and hers, the blood rushing through his ears tempered by the same slow, languid beat. Lilah’s hips moved against his as Gavin reveled in the stillness of just being in her. Being with her.

  Being together.

  A commanding urge within him pulled him to full height and he slid her up and back onto the table, his cock pinning her to the scarred oak top. Collecting her wrists, he wrenched them above her head, a groan of submission her response.

  His next thrust was hard, unyielding, with a bite on her nipple that would leave a small mark the next day. That was the point. Her body twisted under his, hips pushing up to get more of what he gave. Lilah met him in his next thrust, the slam of flesh and bone a drumbeat of its own.

  Gavin lost all pretense of tenderness, of being gentle. Thrust after thrust hammered his craving into her, his release so close. Sweat tickled her lip, her forehead, the hairline around her face, and she opened her eyes suddenly, locking those eternal pools with his. She was so close that he saw his own eyes reflected in hers, her irises almost as golden as his when in wolf form. He imagined them running together, united as their deepest selves, and felt the last thread of his self-control snap.

  There.

  There you are.

  He heard her voice and his, echoes of each other, in his mind as the rhythm picked up, one of her hands escaping to grab his ass and push him deeper, harder, and he knew she wanted the roughness, the desperation—all of it.

  Lilah pulled up and licked his chest, the bite unexpected on the tight skin across his pec, her teeth pulling the skin away from his muscle then relinquishing it, leaning in for a second bite. Gavin sank his hand into her hair and kissed her so hard as he hammered home his beat, her walls clenching in patterns he knew would drive her to ecstasy.

  “Mmm,” she moaned against his mouth, her hips pushing up, up, up, and then she bit his lip as she came, opening wider for him, his cock plummeting deeper into her than he thought possible, her pussy milking him as her pink walls drew him in. Her cry of climax triggered his own as they joined in frenzied orgasm, the Beat driving through all thought, all flesh, all consciousness.

  Eyes open, he was blind; and then when he closed them, all he saw was her face. Impossibly, he felt her pleasure cascading over him in waves, as if her climax were inside his own flesh. He cried out and thought he was going to die from ecstasy, that the release was too powerful to survive. With each throb, he flew closer to the great abyss

  He and Lilah were one body, one spirit, one pulse.

  Chapter 7

  Gradually he realized he wasn’t dead. He’d survived. Lilah’s chin was on his shoulder, their bodies clasped in a firm embrace. Her breath pushed his hair with little brush strokes, in and out, the pull of light strands near his neck a steady presence. Their hearts smashed together, separated by inches of flesh and bone, wishing they could be closer.

  He felt... whatever he felt with her in his arms had no words.

  And then the Beat disappeared, replaced by an internal glow that suffused him from toe to eyebrow, from fingertip to fingertip, his body pure light and peace. Lilah tensed, then relaxed, pulling back to look at Gavin.

  Their eyes met and he saw her soul. He tore his gaze away before she could see his.

  Reality intruded one painful nanosecond later, as Gavin’s pants buzzed.

  Damn technology.

  “Oh!” Lilah exclaimed, making the same sound she’d made moments ago but with a decidedly less arousing tone. “I, um... oh God.”

  Gavin pulled out of her with great regret that he could not feel her warm heat around him every minute of every day for the rest of his long—oh, so long—life. Her panic began to unsettle him, and he took a moment to compose himself, taking a deliberately slow inhale to clear his mind.

  What was left of it, that is.

  She rooted around on the floor, pulling the corset around her chest and frowning at the hooks and laces.

  “Allow me,” he offered, quite experienced with this particularly intimate article of women’s clothing. He had not destroyed the laces after all, but it took some expertise to relace the corset and set Lilah on a path toward a respectable appearance.

  As he finished and pulled away, she slipped her arms into the sleeves of her dress, tied the sash at her waist, and looked at him with a horrified gasp.

  “That bad?” he said, amusement twitching his lips, looking down at his tall, naked form. He was fully human, and her gaze made him quicken.

  Then he realized she was looking past him. Behind him.

  He turned to see her red thong hanging jauntily from the neck of a bottle of wine. Retrieving both, he handed her the now-useless piece of clothing and examined the bottle’s label.

  “Château Le Pin,” he said. “Of all the vintages to hang a pair of panties from, this fits well.” His eyes took her in from head to toe, then he bent closer to her and took a deep inhale. “Both have an exquisite bouquet.”

  Lilah stared somberly at her broken underwear. “I wonder if they’ll make me pay for this.”

  Gavin reached for his trousers and slipped one leg into his pants. “That’s part of the club-issued uniform?” Good call, Eva, he thought. Now he understood why membership dues were so steep.

  Lilah stuffed the snapped panties into a pocket and ran her hands through her hair, smoothing it. She was so ripe. As Gavin finished dressing his body ached for her, for more, for a second round, for a long night together.

  For breakfast the next morning. And the next.

  Instead, he faced a very skittish woman who eyed him paradoxically, as if she had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other.

  “What was that?” she asked. No pretense. No shyness. No boldness, though. Oh, how honest and simple was her question.

  The answer eluded him. Gavin knew what not to say, but he could not explain what had just happened.

  “I don’t know, Lilah.” As her name passed through his lips, he took two steps
closer to her, eyes affixed to hers, and the space between them felt filled with possibility. Their scent filled the room, too many questions in the air for him to enjoy it.

  Bzzzz.

  The phone vibrated against his thigh and he pulled it out, annoyed.

  The text message simply read:

  The wine cellar is hardly private.

  If Gavin were capable of blushing, his face would be hot. Lilah noticed the change in him but said nothing, moving past him as if he would lunge at any time.

  Smart woman.

  Eva’s message was clear, and he opened his mouth to say something that would help them to understand what on earth—or in other realms—had just happened.

  “Gavin,” she said softly, standing before the door. She turned back, the twist of her body accentuating the hourglass figure. “We can’t do this. I’m... I’m sorry.”

  “Wait,” Gavin said, desperate to keep her here, yet knowing she was right. He bent down to retrieve a small coaster that had just fallen out of her dress pocket. “You forgot this.” He wanted to say so much, but his sense of self was filled only with the need to touch her, a need he must now control.

  He’d thought that being inside her would quench his thirst. It only made him want more.

  “Oh!” she said, reading scribbles on the coaster. “The wine! I forgot the wine.” She looked as if she might cry. “I can barely read this, and it’s in French, and I’m not wearing any panties, and—” Lilah’s tears felt like pouring salt on the enormous hole in his chest where his heart lie completely open and vulnerable now.

  “It’s fine, Lilah. It will be fine. Here,” Gavin answered, knowing that if he reached out to draw her into his arms and comfort her, he would be buried inside her again in seconds. Retrieving her wine list would have to be a poor substitute for an embrace and a second round.

  Two minutes later, he handed her the three bottles. “Excellent taste,” he said without smiling.

  She took the bottles with a grateful look and just stood in place, staring at him. “Thank you,” she finally said. “I...I don’t know what to say. I don’t do this.”

  “You don’t retrieve wine?”

  Her eyes narrowed. His cock stirred. He liked this Lilah, the one whose cheeks pinked as she replied, “I don’t sleep with strange men hours after I meet them.”

  “On the contrary, Lilah, you met me a few days ago.”

  “Same difference.”

  “And I’m not strange.” That was a lie, but he let it stand.

  She cocked one eyebrow and shifted her weight to one hip, the move making her breasts pour forth even more from the corset. “You are a stranger.”

  “Strangers don’t feel so much with each other.”

  She looked as if he’d slapped her. “No, they don’t, Mr. Stanton. It’s best we forget it ever happened. I know I will. Starting now.”

  And with that, Lilah slipped away, leaving Gavin alone in the chilled room, surrounded by the scent of something so much greater than themselves.

  And an urge that he now knew would never go away.

  Chapter 8

  Lilah crept into the apartment just after midnight. Afraid of waking Jess, she didn’t turn on any lights, instead relying on the glow of her phone to navigate an unsteady path to the bathroom.

  Smoky, however, trotted over to greet her, tail wagging and body quivering. She let him follow her into the bathroom and shut the door, feeling guilty for forgetting about him for the past few hours.

  Forgetting about herself.

  What had she done?

  And when could she do it again?

  She turned on the shower and ran her nails along Smoky’s delicate skull as she waited for the water to heat up, remembering the feel of sweaty, hard muscle in Gavin.

  A moan escaped her.

  No. It was insane. They both knew it was. She’d never heard of anything like it, as if a virus had infected each of them. It wasn’t normal, it wasn’t healthy. The stress had finally broken her—all the worries about money, her family, even her safety. At the first flush of desire, she’d thrown aside rational thought and spread her legs and fucked...

  Fucked up her life.

  No, not yet. There was still time to get a grip. She’d keep telling herself that.

  She took a shower. Brushed her teeth. Moved through the routine, barely aware of her own body.

  After a few fitful hours of sleep on her lumpy futon, Lilah was ready to start another day. One that she wouldn’t screw up.

  Her hand trailed along her body, stroking the skin he’d touched only hours earlier. Her nipple, sore from where he’d kissed, licked, and nibbled. Looking down, she saw the small mark he’d left, a light, rose-colored bruise that was like a claiming.

  It hadn’t felt wrong. It had felt perfect. As perfect as watching the sunrise.

  She flung off the covers and stared at her shithole apartment. Even dappled morning light didn’t do it any favors. This was reality. Wild sex with a man whose every touch spoke to her deepest, wordless places—no. Not real. Even if it felt like he knew her. The sense that she’d always known him and each muscle and bone of his hard, giving body—impossible. That was a fantasy. That was madness.

  This stuffy, cramped room with furniture she’d found discarded on the street and the twenty-four-seven street noise was her life, and she had to accept that.

  So that she could make it better.

  “How’d it go?” Jess rolled over in her bed against the wall and brushed the long brown hair out of her eyes. Her sleepy voice reminded Lilah of when she was a little girl. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

  “Good. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Jess sat up, squinting. “Are you OK? You look kind of upset.”

  “Just tired.”

  “Look, if you hate the job, you shouldn’t—”

  “I love it.” Lilah managed a smile, but the word love triggered a whole-body flush. “I want to tell you all about it but I can’t because of the contracts I signed.” That was true enough. It was like the NSA or something. Even more important than not sleeping with the members was keeping her mouth shut. If she couldn’t manage one—oh, Christ, she didn’t even last one day!—she’d be damn sure to be perfect about the other.

  “You can’t tell me anything? I’m your own sister.” Jess gave her a pout that made her look like she was six years old.

  “They are really, really strict. Just what I told you already is all I can say.” Lilah went over and squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “Believe me, I’m dying to tell you all about it.”

  Boy, that was the truth. How was she going to survive meeting, having, and losing him without being able to talk to anyone about it?

  “They’ll never know,” Jess said, smiling.

  “Sorry. I can’t screw this up.”

  Again.

  The rest of the day went much as the beginning, with Jess teasing her for details and Lilah struggling to hide the tumult inside her. It was a relief when it was time to go back to the club. In fact, she arrived so early that after Molly set her up with another fabulous dress and yet another pair of unbelievable shoes, Lilah still had thirty minutes until her shift started.

  “How embarrassing,” Lilah said, frowning at the clock near the door. “If I show up now, I might look like I’m trying to steal the other girls’ hours.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Molly said. “I’m not close to any of the servers right now, but I don’t think any of them are that bitchy. But please, sit down and talk to me. I get so bored down here.” She flopped onto the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

  How could Lilah resist? Mirroring Molly’s smile, she walked over, her dress clinging to her thighs, perched on the edge of the seat. “Thanks. This is much better than the elevator.”

  “Oh, that elevator.” Molly shivered, her blue eyes widening. “Something about it gives me the creeps. Or... I don’t know. I always get goose bumps in there. Makes my nipples hard
as rocks.” Putting her palms over her breasts—she was wearing a tight, low-cut electric-orange top that showed every generous curve—she wiggled deeper into the cushions with a sigh.

  Lilah laughed.

  “I’m serious! It’s like somebody walks over my grave every time I’m in there,” Molly said. Then her tone changed, softening to a low murmur. “Or my bed.”

  “Your what?”

  “I told you, my nipples get all tight. And I get all tingly you-know-where.”

  Lilah was too stunned to laugh.

  “Oh, sorry, I’m shocking you.” Lowering her hands from her chest, Molly patted Lilah’s bare knee. “I’ll stop, I’ll stop.”

  Lilah was swept away by the memory of Gavin grabbing, kissing, and nearly consuming her in that same elevator just the night before. Her enthusiastic response had led to what had happened later in the wine cellar. That damn elevator was where she’d begun her journey down the road of recklessness, danger, and stupidity. Because she, too, had gotten all tingly.

  “I feel the same way,” Lilah said. But she didn’t think it had anything to do with the elevator.

  “You do?”

  Lilah nodded. “It’s one hell of an elevator.”

  Molly reached over and adjusted Lilah’s plunging neckline. “You’re sweet to say that, but that’s OK. I’m not shy about being kind of slutty. It’s my way. I love sex. Men. Sex. Sexy men. Even not-so-sexy men. I’ve always been boy crazy and I don’t even fight it anymore.”

  Lilah couldn’t help but really like this girl. Molly was that rare type of person who lifted the mood of any company she was in. “Don’t call yourself slutty! Women can enjoy sex just as much as men, and there’s nothing wrong with owning that.Too bad you’re stuck down here by yourself then. The guys in the club would be all over you if you served.”

  “Oh, no,” Molly said. “That’s no accident. Can you imagine? I’d be like an alcoholic in a brewery. Or a kid in a candy store. Or me in a candy store, honestly, because after men, I’m powerless before chocolate. I have no willpower. None whatsoever.” She laughed and flung her head back, sending her ponytail bouncing down her back.