The Billionaire’s Secret Heart (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance)

by Ivy Layne

  "Ouch," the stranger said. "How did a guy like that get a date with a woman like you? You're way out of his league."

  I blushed. Feeling the heat in my cheeks, I blushed harder. I cleaned up well, but the make up and the short skirt weren't really me. This man was gorgeous. I'd bet he'd be gorgeous the morning after a bender, with no sleep, hungover. I took another quick look, one that ended up lingering as I took in his bladed cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and shining, thick hair the color of espresso. I couldn't see much of his body, but the length of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders hinted it would be worth getting a closer look.

  The stranger beside me wasn't just some guy. He was a man. He lounged on the couch as if he owned the place, both commanding and at ease. I shifted in my seat as he tilted his head closer to mine, his warm breath on my cheek sending a pulse of need straight between my legs. I'd never reacted to a man like this, my body jumping to 'Go' before I knew his name. But as I mentioned, the man beside me was no 'guy'. He was more potent than any male I'd ever spoken to before. It was no wonder my body was overwhelmed.

  His lips grazed my ear as he said, "Do you want to come sit over here?"

  My jaw must have dropped. I did want to go sit over there. Could I? Just stand up and abandon my lackluster blind date? Before I could respond, I felt the stranger beside me shake his head. "No," he said. "Never mind. Let's just get out of here. I want to show you something."

  I was still trying to catch up when he stood. Taking the step from his seating area to mine, he stopped before me, his hand extended. I stared up at him dumbly. I'd been right. His body was well worth a closer look. Looming above me, he filled my vision. I didn't think about it. I just put my hand in his larger one and let him pull me to my feet.

  Off in the distance, through the buzzing in my ears, I heard a laugh and a female gasp, then caught the sound of Stuart sputtering a protest. The stranger had me caught in a spell, his dark gaze hot as he scanned my face, dipping only briefly to my exposed cleavage before locking on my eyes.

  Pulling me closer, he said, "I know it's crazy, and completely inappropriate, but I've been wanting to do this since you walked in the door."

  A sharp tug on my hand and I fell forward, closing the inches between us, my breasts pillowing against his hard chest. Startled, I looked up to see his face draw closer until his mouth came down on mine. I'd been kissed before—not a ton, but more than a few times. I'd never been kissed like this. His arm wrapped around my waist, pressing my body to his, turning me until my legs straddled his thigh. His hand closed over my hip with a possessive grip.

  He didn't start slow. His lips hit mine, opening my mouth to him, his tongue stroking, teasing me, claiming me. If I'd thought about it, I'm sure I would have done something—backed away, protested, something. Anything other than what I did. I curled my fingers around his shoulders and held on for dear life while a complete stranger ravaged me with the kiss of a lifetime.

  I'd stepped out of my boring blind date and into a dream. I'd never seen a man this hot in real life, much less been kissed by one. I didn't have it in me to shut him down. Maybe it was the margaritas at dinner or the pathetic excuse for a date. Maybe the stranger kissing me was just that hot. I didn't care. I kissed him back with everything I had, holding on tight, relishing the scrape of his stubble on my cheek and the heat of his lips moving on mine.

  When he finally broke the kiss, I was panting. I may have been whimpering, just a little. His lips dropped to my ear, nipping the lobe for a second before he said, "Do you want to get out of here?"

  Speech was beyond me. I nodded, my eyes on his, then on the floor. Now that we weren't kissing any longer, I couldn't bear to see the faces of the people around us. I'd kissed a complete stranger in a bar. And not a peck. That had been a full on, hand groping, tongues twining kiss. A panty soaking, please, please take me somewhere and get me naked kind of kiss.

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I fumbled for my purse with one hand, the other firmly in the stranger's grip. I caught a glimpse of Stuart's outraged face as I was turned in the direction of the door. Behind me, I heard Stuart say, "You can't just take my date!"

  He got no answer. I had no idea what to say, and apparently, my new date had deemed him unworthy of a response. I followed the stranger down the stairs and out into the alley, wondering what the hell I was doing leaving the club with a man I'd just met. I knew other women did this all the time, but I never had. Maybe it was my turn to loosen up a little and have some fun. I still couldn't believe I'd caught the eye of a man like this, and I wasn't going to ruin it by second-guessing myself.

  I let the stranger lead me out of the alley and onto the street. He turned me back in the direction of the restaurant where I'd had dinner with Stuart. Dimly, I noted that moving in the direction of my car was probably a good thing. His voice interrupted the quiet, startling me out of my thoughts.

  "What's your name?" he asked, releasing my hand so he could slide his arm around my shoulders.

  "Josephine," I said. "Jo."

  "Do you go by Josephine or Jo?" he asked.

  "Mostly Jo," I said in a whisper, embarrassed by my tomboyish name. Normally, I liked it, but tonight, it didn't feel like it fit me.

  "I like Josephine. You look like a Josephine." He must be a mind reader. Answering the question on my lips, he said, "I'm Holden."

  "Do you usually steal women away from their dates?" I asked tartly, then flushed at my tone. He laughed, looking down at me. I was five feet, five inches tall—not short, but he towered above me. He must have been at least a few inches over six feet. He grinned at me and shook his head, saying, "Never. I can honestly say that I've never stolen a girl from her date in the VIP Room at Mana before."

  "So you have stolen a woman from her date before? Just not there?" I asked in the same tart tone. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but his complete self-assurance made me want to poke at him, just a little.

  "I may have broken up a date or two in the past," he confessed. "But I don't go to the VIP room to hook up. If I want a woman, I hit the club downstairs. The VIP room is for relaxing."

  I started to make a sharp comment about the easy way he described the club as if it were an 'All You Can Eat' buffet. Sneaking a look at his chiseled profile, I shut my mouth. For him, it probably was. I bet most of the women in that club would have tripped over themselves—and their dates—if they thought Holden was interested in taking off their clothes. I was very aware of how wet my panties were after one kiss.

  "So why me?" I asked before I could stop myself.

  Chapter Three

  Josephine

  Holden didn't answer my question. It was just as well. Either he'd lie and tell me it was love at first sight or some bullshit like that, or he'd tell the truth, which would likely be unflattering, considering I was a girl who'd left a club with a complete stranger and was heading home with him. At least, I assumed that's where we were heading. I thought you looked like an easy hook up was probably closer to the truth, but it would put a huge damper on my mood.

  Just as I was telling myself to stop overthinking, Holden stopped at the front door of an imposing brick building. Winters House. I'd been here a few times. There was a funky coffee house on the first floor that made a killer latte, and it was close to campus. Did Holden live here? I'd heard there were apartments in the upper floors, above the retail and the offices, but I'd also heard they were huge, unbelievably expensive, and you practically had to sell your firstborn child to get one.

  A horrible thought occurred to me. Holden looked older than me, but not old enough to own one of these places. Please tell me he didn't live with his parents. Never mind. I shoved that thought right out of my head. No way this guy lived at home. Maybe he was just taking me for coffee. After that kiss, I'd been sure we were headed straight to bed—and, margaritas aside, it was weird how cool I was with that—but what did I know? I didn't leave bars with strangers every day. Maybe he thought coffee and a scone
came next.

  I was wrong. Holden strode through the lobby with me beside him, ignoring the coffee house, the upscale boutique, and the art gallery, and headed directly for the elevators. Ushering me in before him, he pressed a button, then lay his palm on a flat, dark screen. A green line passed beneath his palm, up and down, then up again. The line vanished, and the elevator slid smoothly to the upper floors. I stared at Holden in disbelief.

  "Was that a palm scanner?" I asked. I didn't spend a lot of time in high-end buildings, but a palm scanner seemed a little extreme. Holden shrugged.

  "We take our security seriously," he said. "And certain people kept losing their keys." He scowled, and I had the feeling he was well-acquainted with the loser of the keys.

  "So, you live here?" I asked, hesitant.

  "Yep." He didn't offer any more information, and I didn't want to press. Actually, I did want to press, but the gleam in his dark eyes as he backed me into the corner of the elevator distracted me. I decided I didn't care if he still lived at home. All I cared about was getting those big, strong hands on me again.

  I didn't have to wait long. Holden didn't stop until my back was pressed into the polished wood of the elevator wall, penning me in with his tall frame. I gasped in surprise when his hands closed around my waist and he lifted me, pinning me to the wall with his hips, one hand clamped on my ass. His lips found mine, and I was lost. It didn't occur to me to wonder if anyone else might get in the elevator or to worry that he'd tugged my dress down until my full breasts spilled free.

  His hard cock pressed between my legs, only his jeans and my thin silk dress between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in deeper, grinding against him, moaning as my mouth drew on his and my tongue tasted him, my hands buried in his thick, silky hair.

  Holden's hand on my ass had moved beneath my short skirt, pushing my panties aside until one long finger traced around my pussy. I surged against his finger, needing to feel him inside me, my sense of control completely lost. I had no clear idea where I was or what I was doing. I just wanted more of him.

  "Holden." I gasped his name, squirming and grinding against him. I never noticed when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. His mouth left mine, and he lifted me from the wall, carrying me, still kissing me, from the elevator.

  "Fuck me, you're hot," he said in a growl, opening a door and pushing inside. We didn't get very far, no more than a few steps, before he set me down on a cool, hard surface. In the dim light, I thought we might be in a kitchen. Before I could look around, he unzipped my dress and whipped it over my head. I didn't have a second to get self-conscious. When he stepped back and started at me, the heat in his eyes made me dizzy.

  "Take off your bra," he said, his gaze fixed on my breasts, barely contained by the thin, lacy bra. My hands trembling, I reached behind me and flicked open the clasp, letting the dark straps fall down my arms. The lacy cups hung for a moment on the tips of my beaded nipples before the wisp of fabric slipped free. I let the bra fall to the floor and braced my hands behind me, arching my back and offering my breasts to Holden.

  He groaned deep in his throat and lunged forward, filling his hands with my breasts, his mouth on one nipple, teeth teasing me with tiny bites as his fingers pinched and twisted the other side. I wiggled my hips forward until they met his at the edge of the counter, wrapping my legs around him, needing to feel his hard length between my legs, even with my panties and his jeans between us.

  Never, in my entire life, had I imagined desire like this. Holden was more than hot, and this was more than lust. I needed him—needed him inside me, his mouth on me, his cock fucking me. I wanted to beg, to demand, but I was too busy just trying to breathe.

  He released my breasts and stepped back. I heard a snap of metal just before the rustle of his jeans hit the floor. Then, a sound I'd never heard before—fabric tearing as he ripped my lace panties to get to my pussy. As if I hadn't already been boiling over with desire, the feel of cool air on my wet pussy was almost more than I could take.

  "Please, Holden," I whimpered. The head of his cock nudged my entrance, and I arched my hips, more than ready for him. Reality got in the way. "Wait," I said, almost sobbing with frustration.

  "Fuck. Condom. Don't move," he ordered. Then he was gone. If he'd taken too long, I might have had time for my brain to kick into gear and remind me that I was naked in the kitchen of a man I didn't know, about to have sex with him. Fortunately for my sex-starved body, I didn't have time to do more than register how wet I was, how good his mouth had felt on my breasts, and how cold the marble countertop was against my heated skin before Holden was back.

  He leaned into me, his chest hard against my nipples, his cock pressing into my pussy, stretching me open. Either he was huge, or in the year since I'd had sex, I'd magically become a virgin again. Based on his general size, I was guessing he had a big cock. Exact inches didn't matter. The only thing I cared about was the delicious feeling of him pushing his way inside me, setting every nerve in my pussy on fire, until he was buried to the hilt, his pelvic bone shoved right up against my swollen clit. Fuck me. I'd never felt anything this good.

  Never. My breath sobbed out of my chest in gasps. I gripped his shoulders and held on as he began to pump his hips, fucking that thick cock into me in short, staccato thrusts that worked my clit exactly the right way.

  I heard myself crying out as my first orgasm hit, barely a minute after he started to move, my voice keening and breathless. Holden rode me through the waves, then pulled out of me and lay me down on the counter, his mouth tracing a path from my breast to my shoulder to my neck before finding my lips.

  His kiss was carnal. Obscene. His mouth took over, his tongue sliding against mine, his lips opening me, taking everything. When he fucked his cock back into me, it felt twice as big, and I was as desperate as if I hadn't come in months.

  "Josephine," Holden breathed into my ear. "Fuck, Josephine, your pussy is so fucking tight."

  I couldn't do anything but moan in response. His words were direct and so dirty, but the way he said my name . . . he drew it out like it was a song, or a prayer.

  Josephine.

  It had always felt too old-fashioned, but when Holden said it, it was exactly right.

  "You feel so fucking good on my cock," he whispered in my ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you come all over me, sweet Josephine, and then I'm going to fucking fill you up."

  A sound escaped my throat, something between a whimper and a plea. One of his big hands went to my lower back, lifting me and angling my pussy down as he thrust up, filling me another impossible inch. The head of his cock rubbed my G-Spot, the base of it ground into my clit, and the top of my head blew off as my second orgasm hit me in a blinding rush of bliss.

  I may have passed out a little after that. The next thing I remember, Holden was carrying me to his bathroom. He set me down beside a huge white soaking tub and turned on the water. Steam billowed up, filling the room. With his hand on my back, he nudged me up the steps and into the tub, joining me after adding a generous squirt of something that smelled like oranges and sunshine.

  Despite the size of the tub, it filled quickly. Normally, I would have minded getting my hair wet—it was long, thick, and took forever to dry—but I was so relaxed from two orgasms, I probably would have let Holden cut it all off. He settled us against the back of the tub, me between his spread legs, his half-hard cock against my lower back. My head lolled on his shoulder and his hands rested on my ribs, his fingertips teasing the underside of my breasts.

  "So, do you go out on a lot of blind dates?" he asked, as if picking up our earlier conversation in the VIP room of Mana.

  "Mmm, not really. That was a favor to my advisor," I admitted. "Her nephew."

  "Is that going to be a problem for you?" he asked. Trying to get my sleepy, aroused brain in gear, I thought about his question.

  "I don't think so," I said. "She's pretty cool." I thought about the way we'd left—me kissing
Holden right in front of Stuart, then walking out without a word to my date. "I guess it depends on what he tells her."

  Before I could start stressing about what Stuart might say to my advisor, Holden asked, "What's she advising you in?"

  "I'm a grad student," I explained, "at Tech." I gave him the short version of what I was studying. It was pretty specialized, and most people were good with me leaving out the details. I can't remember how much I told him. His fingers started trailing across my breasts, drawing designs on my skin with water and suds until I forgot I'd been talking at all.

  He turned me over, shifting my body until I was straddling him, my face tucked into his neck. I loved his body, the size of him, the way I fit against him. I wasn't a small girl, and Holden didn't seem huge, but he was big enough to make me feel delicate, and that was a feat.

  He must have put a condom by the side of the tub, because he was suited up and sliding inside me a moment later. I ground down on him, taking every inch, rocking and sliding as his strong hands gripped my ass. When the orgasm started to rise, I sank my teeth into his shoulder to hold back my scream.

  "God, baby. Yes. Fuck my cock, Josephine. Fuck me hard."

  I did as I was told, losing control, water splashing to the floor as I chased my orgasm. My pussy clamped down hard, my release milking Holden dry.

  I don't remember how we got from the tub to his bed. Somewhere along the way, he dried me off and tucked me between sheets so smooth, I thought they couldn't possibly be cotton. I passed out with my head on his chest, his arm holding me close.

  I only woke once, in the early morning, to find myself flat on my back, my legs spread with Holden between them. As if we'd been fucking for years instead of hours, I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his hips, my mouth meeting his in a soft, slow kiss. That time, he took me gently, taking his time, his hands stroking me everywhere. I fell back asleep after we came, curled into him, every breath drawing in his woodsy, male scent.