HONEY GIRL: BILLIONAIRE (Book 2)

by Jones, Juliette

  So Jake stayed, and we ate filet mignon and new potatoes and green beans, and we drank another bottle of wine. We didn’t talk about Shawna or jail or lawyers or work. Or even the weekend. Jake seemed to sense that now was not the time to bring up my idea for a wedding in the Hamptons this Saturday. He’d taken my hint and refrained from mentioning or any of my other baggage. I loved him for that. And after we’d eaten, Jake got up to leave, and we said we’d talk tomorrow.

  As soon as Jake was gone, Lila turned to go upstairs. She held her shoes in her hand. Barefoot, padding across the floorboards, she looked impossibly young. Fragile, almost.

  “Hey,” I said gently, following her, but at a non-threatening distance, in case she wanted space. I kept my hands in my pockets.

  She stopped, her slim hand on the staircase bannister, and turned to look at me. Her eyes were unfathomable, pools of dark mystery. I was reminded in that look of what had happened to her when she was a child and I felt a rage inside myself that was so deep and so fierce it was almost unnerving: I knew I would kill anyone who ever tried to hurt her like that again.

  “Are you all right?” I didn’t care if she was mad. Mad I could handle. Breakable was what I was worried about. I would do absolutely anything she asked of me. “I love you,” I said. Just the declaration, out there in the open like that, between us, made me feel lighter, happy: a word I would never have used to describe myself until very recently. Until Lila. I wanted to say it to her over and over. “I want to talk to you. To hear about your day. How it went.” I searched in her eyes for our connection, and found the guarded fringe of it. But she was holding back. “And I want to say I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you about something. Something that ended, as soon as I met you.”

  There it was, a hint of clemency. An invitation. I was allowed to follow her, that small torch-like glow in her eyes said. She’d listen to what I had to say.

  As soon as we were in our room, she put her shoes down and crawled onto the bed, curling up against the pillows. She made no move to undress but she said, “I should take a shower.”

  I sat next to her, not touching her, not pushing her in any direction she wasn’t ready to go. We’d been apart for the whole day and all the jagged effects of reality, of other people intruding into our world, still held us in its cold grasp. But I could feel her warmth from here, calming me. “Or you could take one in the morning.”

  She shrugged a little, lightly petulant. It was the kind of gesture you might see on one of those teen t.v. dramas. “I guess.”

  I leaned back against the plush pillows, folding my arms. Her bare legs were tan, the shape of them sublime. Astoundingly perfect. I had never seen or imagined anyone as flawless as Lila. Every time I looked at any part of her I was struck by this, again and again.

  Maybe it would help if I just started talking. If I talked all the way through it, she might begin to understand. “I hired Ashley Lynch two years ago. Headhunted her from Catwalk. She’s good, don’t you think?”

  Lila looked over at me. She wasn’t holding a grudge exactly. She’d been hurt, once again, by something I’d done. Always, my crimes were committed for one reason and one reason only: I loved and lusted so hard for Lila that I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t be trusted to do the right thing, if it meant not getting more of her.

  “Yes. She’s very good.” She’d replied to me, and this felt like a small triumph. I couldn’t help almost-smiling. Like a fucking idiot. I’d never had to work to play it cool before: one more thing to add to my list of B.L. Before Lila, I hadn’t been a lovestruck, pussy-whipped, idiotic psycho. “I’m pretty sure she introduced me to everyone in the entire Fashion department.”

  Okay, so we were straight into it. Good. Cut to the chase. “Including Shawna Beale?”

  I watched as the hard aloofness flickered back into her expression at the mention of my ex’s name.

  “Yes,” she said, and the frostiness in her tone was positively arctic. I might have felt irritated by this juvenile game we seemed to be mired in, but I was only too aware of the reason we were mired in it: because she was so fucking young. As it was, I was so deeply in love with her I didn’t really care what game we were mired in. If this is the game she wanted to play, then count me in. I’d play it all night and all day until I learned the goddamn rules and won. Or at least tied.

  “I dated her for a while,” I said. “Before I met you.”

  “Oh?” she said heatedly, clearly already aware of this.

  I was watching her, but she was staring straight ahead, at the far window. She was wiggling her toes and I was momentarily fascinated. Her toenails were, sort of predictably, painted pink. I even knew what fucking shade of pink it was because I’d painted them: Cotton Candy. She’d been in a much better mood that day.

  “Actually, she did mention that,” she said. “Several times. Among other things.”

  “I can explain everything, if you’ll let me.”

  “Go right ahead. I’m all ears.” The toes wiggling. The long, tan legs. The pout.

  Usually, when a woman got mad at me – and they always did – I felt almost relieved. Finally, an out. I can get the fuck out of here. She wants to be left alone to stew in the quagmire of my misdemeanors. I can go home and drink a scotch and watch the business news until I fall asleep in my chair, alone. Without anyone criticizing or bitching or inflicting their pettiness onto me.

  Now, all I wanted to do was kiss her and hold her and tell her how much I loved her and how deeply sorry I was for putting her through even the tiniest bit of pain.

  So that’s exactly what I did.

  I rolled onto my side, cupping her jaw gently with my hand, turning her face to me. “I was dating Shawna when I met you. I’d been seeing her for quite a while – around five months, I think, more or less. But it got rocky, towards the end. In fact it was rocky all the way through. She wanted me to commit to more than I wanted to give. I didn’t love her. I tried to but I just didn’t. She kept telling me she loved me and I didn’t say anything back. She cried about that and I felt fucking bad, so I said it to her. I said it. Twice. I lied. I’m not proud of it but I did: I lied to her. I was thinking here I am, I’m thirty-two years old and I still can’t commit to anyone. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me. Like something in me was broken. Like maybe, because of the life I’ve led, maybe I’m just not normal that way. Maybe I can’t love. So I said it, just to see what it felt like. I’d never said it to anyone before, ever. Besides Jake a couple times when he was a little kid because he needed to hear it from someone, but that’s different. So I said it to Shawna because she was crying about it. But you know what?: it felt wrong. Just completely, totally wrong. As soon as I said it I knew I didn’t love her. I think I hoped that by saying it, it might make me feel it. But it did the opposite. It made me feel like distancing myself, because I knew then for a fact that I didn’t love her. The problem was, once I’d said it, she believed it. She kept going on about how she wanted us to be exclusive and I didn’t want to do that. I told her no but she refused to listen. She started getting carried away and talking about getting married and shit. Rings and locations and honeymoons. It was stupid, really. I should have broken it off earlier but she was so emotional about it and I didn’t want to hurt her. She was beautiful and good to me and I thought maybe I should try harder, that maybe the feelings would come if I gave it some time. But it didn’t work. Time didn’t help anything. At all.”

  I paused for a second. I couldn’t remember ever spilling my guts like this, to anyone. It felt good. It felt fucking amazing. Because it was Lila. And her eyes were all shiny and bright. But I was barely getting started. There was so much more I still wanted to tell her. “And then you walked in. You just showed up and walked in. This goddess. This sweet, gorgeous creature with these green eyes and this shy, sparked smile. And just like that, I knew. I think I loved you that very first minute, you know that? Right there, when you were standing there in the doorway. Your ey
es were so green, and so sort of … shocked. Like you couldn’t believe it. Like you couldn’t believe me. And then you came in and you sat down and I just had never seen anything so beautiful. All I wanted to do was touch you, and kiss you. I wanted to get close to you. Closer than I’d ever been to anyone. Even though I didn’t know the first thing about you except that your hair was like silky wheat in the sunshine and your smile was the sweetest thing. And that if I didn’t get to kiss those lips I would go insane. Absolutely fucking insane. Right then and there. I had to do it. And I knew you wanted me to. The way you leaned into me. The way you were getting all hot and bothered – hell, just thinking about it … and I couldn’t stop. I wanted you so much and I could see it there in your eyes, that you wanted me just as bad. You did, didn’t you? I mean, Christ, I’d never had sex within half an hour of meeting someone. I’d never had sex without a condom. I didn’t even care. I don’t think I cared, deep down, if I got you pregnant. Because then you would have had to stay with me. I mean I wasn’t actively thinking that but deep down, I was already prepared for the consequences: they would mean I could see you again, and stay with you and be with you. I’d never committed to anyone as much as I committed to you, right then, and every second since. We were so fucking hot for each other but it felt deeper than that, too. It felt all-encompassing, like I’d just been lit up like the sun. You have to know: I was already all in, sweetheart. Just like that, I understood what I’d been missing all that time, when I’d been wondering if I was broken or deranged or had a commitment phobia or whatever. No. It was only because I hadn’t met you yet, Lila. You. You answered all my questions when you walked into my office that day. Just like that. I thought: this. This is what I want.”

  Lila had tears in her eyes. One of them spilled and made a glossy line down her cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb. And I kept going. “And then, there was just absolutely no way in hell I was going to risk not getting close to you. I’d already let Shawna go because I got it. I knew I wasn’t broken. And I didn’t want to feel guilty or beholden or trapped anymore. I realized how forced it had all been, with her, and how doomed I’d felt. Because the difference, with you, my sweet honey girl, was a revelation. It was. And I didn’t want to let go of it. I didn’t want to introduce into our new, beautiful world some outside relationship that in my heart I already knew was over. I didn’t want you to doubt me. I wanted you to know I was already yours. All yours and only yours. Because suddenly, with you, I felt whole and happy and good.” I felt my lips barely twist into a mildly guilty grin as I said it to her, but it was hardly something she didn’t already know, “And so fucking horny I thought I might go mad with it. There was no way I was disengaging from you until I was forced to. And that’s why I did what I did. I waited. In my mind, Shawna and I were already finished. I called her and broke it off as soon as it was reasonable to do that. I made it very clear that I didn’t want to be with her anymore, I was sorry about it, but that’s just the way it was. I told her I’d found someone else and I’d call her in a few weeks to see how she was doing. And then I turned off my phone for a while.

  “She called. She called a lot. I took one or two of the calls, when you were sleeping. I didn’t want to take the calls. I wanted to lie next to you and touch your hair and kiss your lips so you’d dream about me. I took a few minutes to try to do the right thing, if it was the right thing, to placate her and make sure she wasn’t going off the rails. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to dirty the time we spent together by talking about someone who was now firmly a part of my past and only my past. You are my present and you are my future. No one else. Okay? So I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have. I should have prepared you for what would happen when you ran into her. To be perfectly honest, with all the other stuff that’s been going on, it didn’t cross my mind. I’d already forgotten about Shawna, and moved on. I’m sorry I forgot. And I’m sorry if she was horrible or spiteful to you. I should have been there. I’m sorry. I love you.”

  I was prepared to keep going, as long as it took to convince her. But she was climbing onto me. She took my face in her hands and she slowly, slowly kissed my lips.

  Lila

  Of course I forgave him, if there was anything to forgive. He was the sweetest, sexiest man alive, this I knew. The other thing I knew was that he was no saint. This bothered me not at all. I didn’t want a saint. I wanted Alexander.

  I straddled him, kissing his lips. He was in that state that drove me a little crazy, where he surrendered to me, like he was afraid of doing anything that would offend or hurt me. Just the size of him, and the strength, made this irresistible. He let me take total control, until he felt me give him permission to dominate, which was his preference. I wasn’t quite ready to do that. I held him down. I licked my tongue gently into his mouth. When he closed his lips around my tongue, as though to draw me in, I withdrew. He watched me, then he closed his eyes, conceding, allowing me anything I wanted of him. I kissed him again, letting my tongue glide across his bottom lip. He lay perfectly still.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” I whispered. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I felt a little loose, a little reckless. The relief, of hearing his confession, of understanding what I had already known but wanted to hear – and I had never imagined I’d hear it like that, so heartfelt, so eloquent and emotional – was quietly extreme. I had feared those accusations. I had experienced flickers of terror at the thought of being cast out by Alexander. I didn’t care about the rain, the money, the cold. What I feared more than anything else was being alone again. Of being in danger. It was an old fear, a childhood fear, and I banished it, as I was very good at doing, but in its wake it left an almost unhinged coldness I wanted – no, needed – to fill. My big, warm Alexander could ease that coldness. He knew how to soothe my fears very well.

  It had been the longest I’d ever gone, in all the time we’d been together, without climaxing. My nerves were frazzled from the emotions and pace of the day and my body was suddenly voracious, to feel him. To eat him and drink him and take him inside. But I moved slowly, carefully, at first. I untied my dress and unwrapped it. His eyes opened and I didn’t mind. I wanted him to see me. I unclipped my bra (I’d finally put the La Perla to good use on my first day at the new job) and let it fall away. I fingered my breasts as he watched. I touched my nipples until they peaked and tightened, to make sure I was still here, still real. I could feel the warm glide of a tear of my cheek but I ignored it. I was fine. It was just that chink in my soul that let the sorrow through sometimes, I knew this. I knew I was damaged and that some things triggered that dark, hollow place. Alexander was beginning to understand it too. He recognized it right away and he pulled me gently down to him and held my face. “You’re all right, Lila. You’re all right. I’m here with you. I’ll take care of you. I’m with you. I love you.”

  I kissed him and he murmured against my lips. “Let me just hold you, if you’re tired. It’s all right, honey girl. You can sleep.”

  “No,” I said. I didn’t feel like articulating it in words. I found a button of his shirt and fumbled with it. And another. And the hot tears welled.

  It was then that Alexander took control. He turned us, laying me down, holding me down. He wiped my tears with his fingers. “Lila.”

  I stared up at him. He looked so beautiful, with his hair messed up and his dark eyes all concerned.

  “I’m going to put you into this bed and cover you up with these duvets and hold you close to me. And you’re going to sleep now.”

  Maybe I was going a little crazy, because this made me smile. That he thought all I wanted was to sleep. “I have a better plan.”

  He just watched me, trying to read my smile, and I thought my heart would burst I loved him so much. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

  “How about you take off these La Perlas with your teeth,” I said. “Then you kiss me everywhere. Then you do that thing with your tongue that I like until
I come. Twice. And then you slide yourself up my body and fuck me with that giant, glorious cock of yours until I come again. Then you wrap me in these duvets and hold me close. And then we sleep.”

  He smiled, and blinked, as though mildly impressed. Thoughtfully, he said, “You’re right, that does sound like a very good plan.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”

  “I do. I like it a lot. As long as you’re sure.”

  We both just lay there, looking into each other’s eyes, mad with it, with this beautiful, astounding connection. It might have been a minute or more before I said to him, “All right. Get on with it, then.”

  “I will. I just wanted to say something first.”

  “What?”

  “That I love you. I mean it. I love you, Lila. Don’t ever doubt that. I really think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I want to be with you and love you and take care of you and protect you and help you to live and love and thrive for the rest of our life together. I can’t wait to marry you. I can’t wait to spend every day with you, always.”

  I pulled his face to mine and kissed him. “I love you, too, Alexander. So much. So much.” His tongue dipped into my mouth, lingering briefly. Then his lips slid to my cheek, my chin. To my neck. To my breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth and drew strongly, pulling and gently biting. He fingered my other nipple, squeezing and twirling. His hands were so strong. I let him hold me and do what he wanted, to position me and feel me. His hands and his mouth communicated his love, his lust, his devotion.

  Between bites and licks, as he worked his way around my breasts and my stomach, kissing me, he murmured sweet words. “I love the way you taste. Do you know how much I’ve missed you today? Do you have any idea?” His teeth were pulling my panties down and he paused when they were still mid-thigh, to gasp, to finger and part my intimate furls. “Lila. God, you’re pretty. You know I’m going to have to punish you for that little stunt you pulled in the boardroom this morning, don’t you? Not tonight, though. Tonight I’ll be gentle with you.” He was too impatient to taste me to pull the panties all the way off with his teeth. His hands hastily rid me of the silky lace and he pushed my legs apart, settling between them. His fingers played, opening me to his gaze, trailing along the folds, finding the tiny nub. He was deliberate, and careful, and his fingers dipped inside to the moist, tight center of me. I was ready for him. I was always ready for Alexander. “You want me to kiss you, honey? I’ll kiss you. I’ll kiss you so good. Like this.”