One Night with the Billionaire (A BWWM Romance)

by Tiana Cole

  Next to him the girl snored softly, only her shoulders moving with her breathing. Again he reflected on how pretty she was and how it was the kind of beauty that appealed to him. Every man had a different vision of beauty, and this one…even with her face a bit puffy with sleep she was an ebony princess. She was young, probably in her early twenties, with dreadlocks.

  He almost chuckled at the situation, but suddenly his stomach churned violently and he fought back the urge to puke.

  As the nausea subsided he turned his attention back to the girl. She was a lovely distraction from the pain. Like something out of a dream. He did laugh then —at himself and his bizarre romantic streak. He wasn’t normally romantic, but this situation…he woke from a dream to find a girl who was his fantasy woman. Whatever else was going on, that alone was enough to make him wonder, for she had been the woman of his dreams even before he’d laid eyes on her.

  It went way back to when he was young. He and his friends had played a game where they imagined what their perfect woman would look like. Most of them just decided to pick variations on movie stars or other celebrity women, knowing the others would agree with them. How could you tease someone for thinking a celebrity was hot?

  For some reason James had taken the idea seriously. Long after the game was over he gave this woman a lot of thought. What attracted him to a woman? What did he want her to be like? What made her special? He’d found his fantasy girl to be remarkably consistent.

  Over the years, whenever he wasn’t in a relationship, he continued playing the game, thinking that if he kept her image alive, one day he might meet her.

  And what had him rattled was that his dream girl slept naked next to him now. A further irony was that he’d apparently fulfilled his fantasy—he’d made love with his dream girl, but he couldn’t remember one minute of it. Not even that first, special kiss.

  He took long breaths and slowly his head cleared, although his pulse throbbed in his temples. After a bit, he was able to trust his ability to stand. Maybe he could even make his way to the bathroom without even throwing up.

  Driven by the idea that if he got himself in the shower the water might restore him, that maybe he could remember more, he struggled vaguely upright.

  He looked at her as he stood and watched the room spin slowly around him. Maybe she’d be awake when he got out. If she woke up, they could order up breakfast. He’d explain that he was hazy about the night. Then she’d laugh and tell him all about whatever had happened that night. Of course, she’d laugh. Drunk as he had to have been, he’d probably been a laugh a minute.

  As he stood, he noticed two used condoms lying on the nightstand next to the clock. Once again he almost laughed. Apparently one of them had been thinking, had acted responsibly last night, at least. It sure as hell probably wasn’t him, and he owed her. That was one thing to feel better about.

  He moved slowly, shuffling his feet. He was glad he had the day off to figure out what had happened. He couldn’t force himself to remember, it would all have to unravel slowly. With that unhappy thought, James made his unsteady way the bathroom.

  * * * *

  Lying still, but wide awake on the cool, damp sheets, Deja heard him snort when he sat upright. She resisted the urge to turn over and smile at him. Instead, she lay still and kept her breathing calm and steady.

  I’m not faking sleep because I can’t face him. I’m just giving the man some time, a chance to get his bearings, a chance to take stock. That’s only fair.

  Given how drunk he’d been she was certain there was no way he’d remember much of what had happened. He would need time to piece the events together. She worried that if she said something to him, it might all flood back at once and overwhelm him. Then who knew how he’d react? Bad enough if it dribbled back a little at a time. And, if he didn’t remember what happened, she really didn’t want him badgering her to walk him through the events of the night. Even though some parts had been spectacular, there was no way to guess whether he would be pissed or delighted.

  She was in no rush to have a confrontation with him.

  Once he came awake on his own and had a chance to sort things out, she’d be able to judge his reactions. Right now he was obviously in pretty bad shape. If nothing else, that gave her a great excuse for stalling, push back the inevitable confrontation a little bit.

  The night had been filled with surprises, for her as well as James. In the beginning she hadn’t been sure she’d go through with the plan, and once she worked up her never, she’d had doubts any part of it would work. After all, there was no guarantee he’d even like her. He might want to dance and then leave. But he had liked her. She almost laughed at how nervous she’d been, wondering if she could pull off getting him to like her. That turned out to be the easiest part. From the moment he saw her, he was all over her. The attraction was clear from the moment he’d approached her in the club and asked her to dance. Once she agreed, she couldn’t have gotten rid of him if she’d wanted to. He’d taken to her completely.

  Just as she’d been told he would.

  As the rest of the night unfolded, she never had much of a chance to reconsider what she was doing, where it was going. She found him good company, and that surprised her. It didn’t fit the image she had of him. He was good-looking, and seemed nice—foolish with drink at the time, but she could see through that somewhat.

  If the night had just happened as James thought it had, if she had just been there in the club and he’d come up to her that way, so pleased with her, she’d have been delighted with the way things went. She’d have called it lust at first sight. Because it had been arranged, because he arrived tipsy, some of the magic was lost. It might have been wonderful.

  The dancing had been great and she loved the way he held her in his arms during the slow dances. He’d been aroused, and he excited her too. If he’d asked her back to his room right then, she would’ve gone gladly. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man, and he was a good one.

  And then, later, even though they weren’t drinking, he seemed to get drunker. She assumed the drinking he’d done earlier with his friend was catching up with him. When he started acting like any old drunk, things weren’t as nice. The only good thing was it made doing the next part easier—urging him on, smiling as if she was delighted, the pretense.. It was a lot more what she’d expected the entire night to be like, but it made her feel she’d lost the charming man she’d danced with earlier. It was also the part she was being paid for.

  When they’d finally come back to his room, he surprised her again. For a brief time he seemed to really see her again. Almost as he’d done when they danced, he acted as if he truly cared about her—as if they’d known each other well. And he’d wanted her. He’d been passionate, and rather tender. Even more surprising, despite the booze, he turned out to be an incredible stud. It had been a shock to find that he not only could get it up, but that he had incredible stamina.

  As they stripped off their clothes and got into his bed she found the sex was better than good. She hadn’t had to fake any enthusiasm—everything he did was hot and exciting. He knew how to make a woman feel good.

  So it had become a mixed night—successful in the terms that mattered, but the deception was shitty. Her part in the prank made her feel bad about herself. That she liked the flashes of the real man she saw, coupled with the great sex, made her guilt worse. She’d never come so hard and she hoped for more. But now she had to see what the morning light brought. If he figured things out, he might never want to see her again, much less make love to her. That he seemed to be basically a good sort had made the night easier, but might make the morning harder.

  The hell of it was she had to play this game for a whole week. She had to do what she could to keep him liking her, despite everything. That would work a lot better for them both if she liked him, but that also made her feel bad about what she was doing.

  It is a matter of life and death. Keep focused.

&
nbsp; She looked forward to seeing what he was like sober, meeting the real James Andrews, the man she’d glimpsed in flashes. At the same time she dreaded it. There was that dangerous mix again. She hoped that heavy drinking wasn’t part of his normal behavior. If he drank that way all the time, things could get boring. Drunks weren’t her favorite people. As slowly as he was moving this morning, as much distress as he seemed to be in, she didn’t think he made a habit of it. Besides, he was supposed to be some big deal businessman. He wouldn’t be successful if he stayed drunk all the time.

  And he’d told her that he was celebrating some deal, so perhaps it was just that. And sleeping with her had been part of his celebration. If that was what he intended, he was going to be shocked. Quite likely he’d be shocked no matter what he’d intended. If he’d intended anything at all. Maybe he’d just gone with the flow of things.

  The bed rocked when he got up and walked around it, moving sluggishly toward the bathroom. He seemed to be ignoring her now, but she’d felt his eyes on her before. Now he was probably preoccupied with trying to remember things, like how to walk. There was the possibility that he’d had the same idea of feigning sleep, or now, letting her pretend. If they both pretended she was still asleep they could postpone facing each other in this morning after, and dealing with what they’d done.

  She opened one eye and watched him walk to the bathroom, enjoying the look of his body. She liked guys who took care of themselves, and James was not only fit, he had a really cute ass. Watching his naked and unsteady progress through the door, she couldn’t help but recall the feel of his warm body when he moved over her in the evening. They’d kissed as he’d touched her, then he’d devoured her with excited kisses as he moved between her legs, spreading her open. His hands had been hot on her body, clutching her ass tightly, and she had welcomed him, wrapping her legs around his hard body and letting out a sigh as he penetrated her. He impaled her with a cock that was hot, eager, and amazingly hard.

  It had definitely been good. And that was just the first time.

  He was definitely an amorous drunk, and she wondered what it would be like with him when he was sober. Thinking about that gave her a tingle, and a slight shiver of apprehension. No matter how nice he turned out to be, he probably wouldn’t be happy with her when he learned the truth.

  CHAPTER TWO

  James was thankful he’d forced himself to get into the hot shower. The water cascading over his head and face helped his head clear and seemed to give him strength. It was as if the water were rehydrating him from the outside, waking him and restoring his depleted energy. Not that he actually felt strong yet, but his strength was returning. He didn’t feel like he’d pass out.

  Now if it would just bring back his memory.

  He didn’t remember much of the evening at all. He knew he and Alan had been at the bar for a time, then Alan said he had tickets for show. There had been topless dancers and Alan had ordered champagne. They were surrounded by bare breasts and sequins and feathers. Then they’d gone outside, gotten into a taxi, and gone somewhere else, a place where there was dancing. He remembered the pulsing music and the dancing.

  Yes, that was where he’d met the girl who was now naked in his bed. He didn’t remember how that happened, or who made the introductions, but he’d found himself dancing with her. He recalled the delicious fragrance of her perfume, the feel of her brushing against him and her smile. She had an incredible smile that she shone on him. They’d gone back to the table and found Alan with a girl too. The other girl was tall and blonde. He could almost see her face now.

  Fragments, images, scenes, crashed around his head, but he knew he didn’t have the events all in the right order.

  At some point Alan was gone. Where had he gone? He’d taken the other girl and left. And he’d gone outside with this lovely brown lady and they’d…he wasn’t sure, but he thought they’d had wild sex. And then they’d gotten into a taxi.

  Or was that right at all?

  As his head cleared, he decided that the odds were that the girl was a hooker. Vegas was lousy with them. Maybe Alan had found a couple of hookers for them and they’d each taken one to their room.

  That sounded like Alan. He was a prankster and probably would think it amusing to fix him up with a hooker, knowing that wasn’t his style, knowing he was drunk and would have to figure out what had happened when he woke up. It was the kind of joke Alan found hysterical.

  If that was the case, maybe he could get the girl to stay for a time. He wasn’t meeting with Liang until the next morning and James had nothing urgent to do. He’d ask her to stay. They could order some breakfast and that would help him feel stronger. Then he’d fuck her, this dark brown lovely with dreadlocks. If it was any other hooker, he’d send her away, but she was too much his dream girl, and the idea of spending the day in bed with her was exciting.

  It sounded a hell of a lot better than sending her off and spending a miserable day alone in his hotel. After a rough night, he owed it to himself to find out if she was as hot in the sack as he guessed she was. Thinking about it, picturing that sexy brown ass in his bed, imagining those lovely legs wrapping around him, made his cock stir.

  When he stepped out of the shower he was definitely feeling better—almost human. He toweled off and then wrapped the towel around his waist and started to go back into the room. Then, at the door, he stopped and undid the towel. He had nothing to hide from this woman, whoever she was. They seem to have wallowed in each other’s bodies all night. Covering up now accomplished nothing.

  When he opened the door, she sat up in the bed with a sheet pulled demurely over her breasts. It was sexy, but disappointing. He’d expected to see more of her. Well, there was the rest of the day ahead of them.

  A quick glance at her eyes suggested she was in better shape than he was. She looked content and she returned his stare with a soft smile and a sparkle in her brown eyes. It was the beautiful, warm, and arousing smile he remembered. In his hotel room, standing there naked, the smile was also sexy and erotic. That she managed to let those big brown eyes gaze at his cock as he came toward the bed made it seem more erotic.

  “Good morning, James.”

  So she knew his name. He thought she must also know that he didn’t like being called Jimmy, the name he saved for chewing himself out. The voice in his head he chastised himself with sounded so much like his father’s that it seemed appropriate then. “Eat your veggies, Jimmy. Do your homework, Jimmy.” That was the name he was called when he’d acted out, gotten in trouble. Jimmy was a failure, a troublemaker, and James hated Jimmy as much as his father had.

  “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” His attempt to sound nonchalant sounded forced, even to him.

  “Deja,” she said, smiling. “That’s my name.”

  “Your name is Deja?”

  “Deja Fontaine.” She still stared at his naked body. “I was pretty sure you wouldn’t remember.”

  He winced, embarrassed that she was right. “And did you sleep well, Deja Fontaine?”

  She stretched, and the sheet slipped down, giving him a view of her lovely brown breasts. “Wonderfully. After a night like last night, anyone would sleep like a log. I couldn’t believe you could get so aroused that many times, especially…” She paused and let the sentence float.

  He understood. “With all I had to drink?”

  She nodded. “I’d always heard that too much booze can diminish a man’s desire, but you’ve made me wonder if that’s just idle gossip.”

  He sat on the bed and she moved her legs to the side. “I’m sorry that I don’t remember much. I don’t normally get drunk, and I’ve never been so out of my head. I’m really ashamed that I can’t remember much of what happened.”

  She put her hand behind her head. “It’s okay. I’m glad to hear excessive partying isn’t your normal thing.” She rubbed her eyes.

  “How did we meet? Where did we meet?”

  Her laughter sounded like music. “You
and your friend came into the club— Luciano’s. I was out on the dance floor alone and you came over asked me to dance with you.” She looked into his eyes. “You said you liked my smile, but your hands were all over my ass. Later you told me you wanted to get to know the rest of me.”

  “I did?”

  “It seemed kind of cute…sexy cute. We had a lovely time dancing and you came up with some ideas for things we might do for fun. Then your friend met up with another girl who seemed to like him. She was eager and they left together.”

  “And we came here?”

  “Eventually.”

  “We went other places first?” He saw her hesitation. “I need to know.”

  “A few. You got very excited, as if you wanted to explode with some emotion you’d been holding in. And you were full of ideas, bursting with things you wanted to do. A number of them were rather naughty…and fun.”

  “Like?”

  She rolled out of bed. “I need to pee and shower. We aren’t in any rush, are we? We can talk when I’m done.”

  “Would you like some breakfast?”

  She crossed to the bathroom with long strides, and her long legs caught his attention. “That would be lovely.”

  When she closed the door, he picked up the phone and ordered two large breakfasts. Then, impatient, he paced the room as the sound of the shower reached his ears. He thought about going in and joining her, but his head still pounded. Maybe after breakfast. The hotel provided a thick robe and he put it on so he could answer the door when room service arrived, then he resumed pacing.

  Until he remembered, or was told everything that had happened last night, relaxing was going to be hard. And this girl puzzled him. She didn’t seem like a hooker to him, but then, he didn’t know that much about hookers. If she was one, then she was his first. But there had to be all kinds of women who played in that game, and they’d all be different, wouldn’t they? If she wasn’t a hooker, then he had to wonder what she was.

  He looked out the window. It wasn’t much of a view, really, and the window let him look out over the swimming pool on the roof a few stories down, and out across several other casinos. He could take in a suburb of casinos, a warren of them crammed together. He didn’t like Las Vegas much. It was too gaudy for his tastes, too overdone. He had little use for flash without substance.