The Billionaire's Runaway Fiancé (Invested in Love)

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  He needed her like he needed to breathe. He didn’t know why, had spent so long distancing himself from any feeling, anything that could be lost and not regained, that he doubted love was possible for him. It required a depth of emotion he never cared to revisit. Yet, here and now, he felt something that couldn’t be written off as base carnal desire. Absolute freedom was as close as he could come to describing it. He wanted more, and he never wanted it to end.

  “I don’t understand you,” he said on a groan, his hands roving her body while his eyes feasted on the aroused blush on her bare skin.

  “I know.” Soft fingers glided down his shoulders, chest, circled his belly button. “But I understand you completely. More so now than ever.” She reached between them, wrapping her slim fingers around his length.

  Her beaded pink nipples were his best hope at distraction. He traced slow circles around her areolas, amazed when she matched his pace with her hand. Releasing one breast, he licked his thumb and pulled her ripe nipple between two fingers, twitching the sensitive nub with his thumb. Her breath hitched, her eyelids lowering seductively. Her pace faltered when he did the same to the other breast, but just as quickly, she took her bottom lip between her teeth and started to stroke him in earnest.

  His entire world shrank, sensations multiplying until he could feel every brush of her fingers all the way up his spine. So much for wanting to take it slow. He could feel the tightening of his muscles starting, clenching for the promised release.

  “Enough,” he growled into a kiss, pulling her hand away and placing it on the counter. “I don’t know what it is, but I need to be inside you. Now.”

  With his free hand, he opened her to him, sliding all the way in with one swift stroke. He kissed her mouth, plundering and taking with the same passion as he thrust into her. A blind rush, a mad frenzy, an exhilarating high.

  She broke the kiss, her lips trailing to his ear as he leaned closer, racing with his own pleasure. Her teeth tugged at his earlobe before she whispered, “It’s what you were afraid of.”

  His confusion was lost as her orgasm hit hard, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, the aroused blush flushing bright pink across her neck and chest. Her tight walls seized, pulsing in a way he couldn’t resist.

  Through clenched teeth, his raw groan echoed through the house, promising the other rooms they’d soon get their turn.

  …

  “What am I afraid of?”

  Robyn blinked, surprised to find Curtis in her room. After their lovemaking in the kitchen, she’d said she was tired and needed a shower, but he’d made no offer to go with her. Yet here he was, catching her with wet hair, barely clothed, and unable to see clearly. The déjà vu of the moment wasn’t lost, but this time she wouldn’t promise anything she wasn’t getting in return. She cinched the towel tighter across her breasts, modesty still prevailing though he’d seen every inch of her.

  “Earlier, I said I didn’t know what was happening, and you said it was what I was afraid of. What is that supposed to mean?” His nostrils flared as he stared at her, arms crossed over his broad chest now covered in a maroon T-shirt.

  She stepped closer, knowing she was overplaying her hand, but she had nothing more to lose. She’d left her pride with her shoes on the church steps. She only wanted him if she could have all of him, and he wasn’t about to let her go because he so hated to lose.

  “You have something to lose now, besides your one-way ticket off the paparazzi stalking list.”

  “Excuse me?” He stepped back, bumping into the wall.

  “You said if I wanted love, we’d make it. So we did. And you are afraid of losing that, of losing me.”

  “Robyn, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment again.” He uncrossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “I’m not wired to fall in love the way you want me to. We have so many other things, stronger things, going for us.”

  “Is that why you picked me? Because I’m the easiest to get along with? How far down your list of bridal choices was I?” Panic flooded her veins, making her want to run outside and swim to shore. Anything to get away from her deluded reality.

  “You were my only choice.”

  “And why do you think that was?” She tried to think up some snarky, nasty put-down to make him feel as low as he made her feel, but instead of speaking, he crossed the room in two steps. He framed her face in his hands, pressing his lips against hers in a bruising kiss. It was all she could do to place a hand on his chest and push, turning her head.

  “No, Curtis.” She shook her head, the cool ends of her damp hair taunting her heated skin. “We can’t be together if you can open yourself up to loving me.”

  His hands dropped to her bare arms, burning into her flesh as he squeezed. “I want you and I need you. It’s enough.”

  “It’s as good as sitting on a two-legged barstool. Chemistry and compatibility won’t weather any storms. I don’t want to be your first wife, Curtis. I want to be your only.”

  He dropped his hands, and her throat tightened, her eyes growing heavy with unshed tears.

  “Every day since we met, my soul has reached out for yours, and each time you turn your back. Standing in the church this morning, I realized you wanted it to stay the same forever. You’d never fall in love. You wouldn’t have to.”

  “Robyn, it’s not you. I can’t—”

  She held up a hand, exhausted by his constant protests. “You can, and you do. That’s why I was the only one you thought of, why you brought me here, why we’re drawn together like the moon and the tide. But until you want to, we’re both in for a world of hurt.”

  “You have some fairy-tale notion of what love is. What can love give you that I can’t?”

  “Trust.” The word came automatically, but hearing it, she knew it was right. “You’ll be attracted to other women. Others will make themselves indispensable to you. I need to know there is a reason you come home every night, a reason you sleep alone when you’re traveling.” She pressed her trembling hands into the terry cloth of the towel, her stomach clenching.

  His head shook, his jaw twitching. “I have never done anything to make you question my loyalty.”

  “You claim to have chosen a bride on paper. What’s to keep you from opting for someone more compatible?”

  “We have a contract. I honor my dealings, you know that.”

  For Pete’s sakes, they were not in a business meeting right now. “And where in your precious contract was having sex on the kitchen counter?” Her voice rose with every syllable.

  His mouth opened, his eyes widening. About time she’d rendered him speechless. They had equal roles in how things fell apart, but now Robyn decided to be honest with herself. Maybe he would be, too, but she was no longer going to hope for it as she had before.

  She cleared her throat, fiddling with the hem of the towel. “The relationship I want, the reason I signed the contract, doesn’t exist on paper, in the bedroom, or in the office. It’s bigger than that. And unless that is what you want, too, there is no point in even negotiating. I’m firm on my terms. I won’t be with a man who doesn’t love me.”

  Chapter Ten

  The subtle sweetness of summer blew in off the lake as Curtis ran around the perimeter of the island. He tried to focus on the bright morning sun, the clear blue sky, the verdant clusters of trees on the hills that sloped into the lake.

  He hadn’t expected to like it here on this sapphire lake, in a house last decorated the year he was born, but in spite of fighting with Robyn, he wanted to stay. Away from the questions, where he could get some perspective on the situation.

  He’d felt like a total cad last night, leaving her crying in her room, but she didn’t want him to comfort her. She wanted him to love her, and since he couldn’t, she wanted nothing to do with him. Not now, not when they got back to the city, not ever.

  He’d had a few deals sour and had always found a way to come out better for it in the end, but he couldn’t l
et this one go. He knew he should be cutting his losses, taking her back to her parents, and leaving her to wallow in the mess she’d made. He’d considered it last night, all night, since he couldn’t sleep for dreaming about her. He didn’t like the finality of it.

  He didn’t understand anything he felt right now. He wasn’t reacting normally, logically. He should have fed her to the paparazzi and been done with her, instead of protecting her and whisking her away. He should have admonished her for the embarrassment and scandal she’d caused, not order Kendra to keep it at bay. He shouldn’t want to see her at all, and yet he’d gone on a run to keep from waking her.

  Rounding the south side of the island, his feet pounded the ruddy ground. He looked up to see the back elevation of the house, trees he hadn’t bothered to notice last night blocking the view of the pool. He grinned, the memory snapshots in his mind. They had something, and it wasn’t all she wanted it to be, but it was close.

  Close enough for a compromise. Surely she’d be open to that. He picked up his pace, running for the house.

  …

  Streams of light filtered through the windows, too bright for her eyes to take in without squinting. The pleasures she’d indulged in last night had left her body with the dull ache of exertion. She stretched her arms overhead, yawning deep. Until she caught the scent of Curtis in the room.

  She turned over, sitting up against the pillows and pulling the blankets with her. Sure enough, he sat in the chair next to the vanity, eyeing her over his phone.

  “What are you doing in here?” The throaty sound of her voice gave the words a subtext of invitation, so she cleared her throat.

  He held up the device. “Checking my email. The new assistant sends me every single one. Such a waste of my time.” He set his phone on the vanity, next to a plate of croissants and her glasses. She slid them on instantly. He must have kept them when he took them off her in the church yesterday.

  “New assistant?” She’d expected to be fired, but not replaced so quickly.

  “From the same agency you worked for. I don’t know why she’s so overwhelmed, she barely has to do anything.”

  “Being your assistant is a big job—”

  “I’m not even there.” He ran his hand through his hair, sending the short-cropped pieces into disarray. “There can’t be that much to do when I’m not around.”

  “Yes, there is.” His eyes widened, and her heart softened. Here was a problem she knew how to solve. She reached out her hand. “Let me have your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “Your phone, that naughty notepad in my case, and the croissants. I’ll have this fixed for you by the time you get back up here with orange juice and coffee.”

  Curtis crossed the room, his brow furrowing. He set the plate and phone on the bedside table, eyeing her suspiciously. He flipped through the pages of the naughty notebook, but she ignored every chuckle and whistle while she scrolled through enough of his email to figure out what was going on. While she dialed the office to give the temp mindless tasks that never quite made it onto her to-do list, Curtis disappeared. She was halfway through an almond croissant when he returned with a yellow legal pad and pen. No telling what he’d read in that notebook. She’d planned on using the blank back of the sheets as scratch paper.

  Instead of getting her juice, he sat and stared as she made the necessary calls, borrowing the assistant for one of the semi-retired partners for Curtis. She briefed the new assistant on where she kept the position manual she’d written, as well as what to look out for while Curtis was away.

  She clicked off the phone, brushing the crumbs from the blanket. “My juice?”

  He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “You wrote a position manual?”

  “I was gearing up to ask you for a raise, and, since you don’t know what I do—did—I thought it would help my case. Now that I’m fired, it will save the next person from your wrath.”

  “I didn’t fire you.”

  Yeah, right. “I have a job to go back to next Monday?”

  “Being my assistant is no longer appropriate.” He brushed imaginary crumbs from his burgundy T-shirt, “Stanford” printed across his chest.

  “So I’m fired.” Why was it he never wanted to say the words? The man danced around everything with the grace of Fred Astaire.

  Robyn pushed off the blankets and climbed out of bed, the pink satin nightgown she wore nearly touching the floor. It would be modest, if the slit on her hip didn’t go clear past her panties.

  Snagging the empty plate, she started toward the door. Warm fingers wrapped around her arm, stalling her progress.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get some juice.” The man’s touch sent quivers straight to her spine. She stared down at his fingers, sighing in relief when he removed them. “And to scan the internet for jobs, now that I am unemployed.”

  “You don’t need a job.” He followed her down the stairs.

  “Tell that to my landlord.” She froze, grasping the railing for support. She didn’t have a place to live. Her lease had expired, and her roommates had found a cheaper place in Oakland, but she hadn’t wanted to commute. Her next roommate situation wasn’t so promising, as the move-in date had been postponed twice already. All of her things had been moved to Curtis’s house last week. She’d stored everything in a spare room Mrs. Rutledge claimed was never used.

  I really didn’t think this running-away thing through.

  Shaking her head, she slowly made it down the stairs. She hadn’t thought at all, just felt and ran. Maybe there was something to be said for Curtis’s logic-over-emotion way of life. If she’d followed his rules, she would have ended up with a severance package and letter of recommendation. Her way had left her homeless, jobless, and on the run from the paparazzi. Maybe she needed to think more and feel less.

  She made her way into the kitchen, shocked to find the dishes she’d left soaking in the sink last night cleaned and dried, sitting on the counter.

  “You did the dishes?”

  His shoulders bunched in an exasperated shrug. “It’s ten in the morning. I had to do something while you slept the day away.”

  “I was exhausted.” She still felt the heaviness of her actions on her shoulders. Maybe she should crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over her head.

  “You should go for a run or have a swim.”

  Robyn placed a hand on her slightly rounded stomach, another against her full hip. Did he think she was tired because she was overweight and couldn’t keep up with him?

  “I’m emotionally exhausted, Curtis.” She pulled open a cupboard, plucked out a glass, and set it on the counter so hard it clanged.

  “I figured. Exercise will clear your head, put things in perspective.”

  Her stomach fluttered, recalling the perspective her last swim had given her. She pulled open the refrigerator and snagged the orange juice. Finally, she poured herself a glass and drank it down.

  “Thirsty?” Curtis chuckled as she poured another.

  “Someone didn’t bring me anything to drink.”

  “You didn’t say please.”

  “I didn’t think it was in your vocabulary.”

  “Why are you so angry at me?” He stepped to her and ran his hands up and down her bare arms as the skin came alive. “I can feel the tension coming off you.”

  “We didn’t end the evening on good terms.” She stared up at him, trying to convince herself to step back, get distance. But her brain was the only part of her that didn’t want to fall against him and beg him to make this mess go away. “And yet I woke up to find you in my room.”

  “I was hoping a good night’s rest would give you a different outlook.”

  Of course he wouldn’t give up so easily. “Your new assistant is male, so you’ll have to look elsewhere for your bridal selection process.”

  He tightened his fingers on her arms, his light eyes glaring at her. “I will be with you, or I will be wit
h no one. Your choice. That is the last we talk about it on this island. We have a wonderful opportunity here. For us to get to know each other, to do a trial run of the relationship so you can be completely sure it isn’t enough for you, and to plan the redesign of this house.”

  Stunned into silence, she could only nod. If he wanted only her or no one, that had to mean something. Maybe she wasn’t as delusional as she thought.

  “Then we’re agreed. I found something for you.” He took her hand, pulling her out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

  “Are you sure you still want me working on the plans? Since I’m not a Golden employee?”

  “Golden doesn’t own Sapphire Isle, I do.” At the second-floor landing, he kept going, climbing the next flight.

  At the top of the stairs, he led her past the library and game room, pulling her down the hallway. She knew exactly where they were going and froze, pulling her hand from his.

  “I didn’t change my mind about sleeping with you.” Even in the master suite, with the panoramic view of the lake, tempting as it might be.

  “I had nothing to do with this.” He moved to reach for her hand but pulled back. He turned and opened the door to the master suite instead.

  Hesitantly, Robyn followed behind him. She’d thought of making over the suite before they arrived but deemed it too expensive. The bathroom alone was the size of her apartment in San Francisco. Scratch that, former apartment.

  The dark green carpet and wood-paneled walls dated the room, as did the giant shiny brass bed. With a facelift, it would be breathtaking, but until then, the bathroom with the redwood sauna, double shower, and sunken marble tub was the best asset of the room.

  “Over here,” Curtis called, walking through the bathroom as if it weren’t a work of art.

  Down the hall lay the long-empty dressing rooms she’d planned to convert into another bedroom. But past the doors, her world tilted. The room was filled with clothes. Wooden hangers hung from every bar, shoes lined the floor.