The Naughty Step (Billionaire Book Club 2)

by Nikky Kaye

  “Hey.” His smile was warm and slow when he saw me, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming. “You’re home.” The husky, sleepy recognition in his voice made me quiver, gulping back tears.

  “Am I?” I asked. He frowned, unsure of this part of the dream. “Why is my suitcase out? Are you kicking me out?”

  “What are you talking about? Wait, are you naked?” His eyes opened a little wider, his body waking up just a little bit more.

  I shivered with nerves and cold, little bumps rising on my skin like sandpaper. Hugging myself didn’t do a damn bit of good, so I swallowed my pride and dove onto the bed. It wasn’t the sexy wake-up call I’d planned.

  Nathan reached for me, pulling me to him underneath the duvet. “Fuck, you’re freezing!”

  I lay in his arms, stiff as a mannequin, as he tried to smother me with the blanket and his warm skin. It would almost be easier if I held my breath, if I didn’t inhale the drowsy pheromones threatening my heart.

  “The suitcase,” I prompted.

  “What? Oh, yeah. Right.” He dropped a kiss on the cold tip of my nose and hopped out of bed, mumbling something about turning down the air conditioning.

  I’d been right about the morning wood. It jutted out through the thin cotton of his sleep pants.

  He went into the stumble-in closet and turned on the light. Standing in the doorway of the closet, a halo of light around him, he beckoned me. My eyes were still adjusting to the sudden illumination, but I knew he was nowhere near my suitcase.

  What was he doing? Did he want to show me where my clothes were no longer hanging? Perhaps if I stayed in the cocoon of the bed, I’d metamorphose into a woman whose heart wasn’t breaking.

  “Zoe, c’mere!” His eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown at my reticence. He reached under the covers and grabbed my foot. It was not the best time for him to discover that I was wildly ticklish.

  “Gah!” My leg shot out, my heel connecting with his knee.

  Nathan buckled on to the bed, rubbing his thigh. “Fuck!” His glare sent me over the edge, and I burst into tears. My outburst probably surprised him more than the ninja moves. “What the hell is going on?” he asked, gingerly reaching for my hand. When his fingers curled around mine, I held on tight.

  “Are you kicking me out?”

  “What? Where did that come from?”

  I gave the suitcase at the foot of the bed a pointed look.

  “Jesus, Zoe, no!” He shook his head as I sniffled. “Look.” Pulling me off the bed, he marched me into the closet. My back was nestled into his chest, his arms around my waist and his hands overlapping like a buckle over my bellybutton.

  My clothes were still there. I didn’t get it. “I don’t get it.”

  Behind me, he extended one arm and lifted mine along with his to point downwards. “I got you a new shoe rack.”

  On an adjustable rack similar to the ones housing his stupid fancy shoes, all the kicks I brought to New York were lined up. Even my flip flops, the ones which melted and stuck to the hot summer pavement, were perfectly squared and balanced.

  I started crying harder.

  “Holy mother of fuck, woman,” Nathan muttered. He rested his chin on my head, as though he could soothe me through downward pressure and the sheer force of his will. Surely it had worked in other situations, but not this one.

  By now my tears were falling off my face and splashing onto his forearms where he hugged me. I swiped at my face, beyond embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s really… nice.”

  “Nice?” He leaned over, moving his chin to my shoulder as we both looked down at the miracle of shoe storage. “I was at least hoping for a thank you blowjob,” he joked.

  My lip wobbled. Yeah, I could probably manage that—once my congestion from this stupid crying jag cleared up.

  “Now I know I love you,” he sighed.

  “What? Why?”

  “Even your ugly crying face is beautiful.”

  Sniff. “You can stop. You’ll be getting the blowjob.”

  22

  Nathan

  “So, when are you going to fuck me in the coatroom?”

  Zoe’s grin could only be described as innocently evil, if such a thing existed. The sly curve of her lips went straight to my dick, and not for the first time that evening I wished my pants were cut a little looser.

  “Hmmmm. I could buy off the coat check girl,” I mused out loud. “Or we could just keep dancing.”

  We’d just celebrated our first anniversary. It had been a year since she first flashed me her tits. She preferred to refer to it as the day we first met. Potato, po-tah-to. Out for dinner and home for dessert, our anniversary was romantic, intimate, and hot as fuck, thanks to some interesting toys she’d ordered.

  She sighed in my arms. “I suppose we could keep dancing,” she said. “People are still arriving.”

  “Your mother hasn’t even shown up yet.”

  “Only my mother would be late to her own party.”

  I snorted, reflexively searching around for my father. “This whole thing is weird, if you ask me. Who has a reception to celebrate their divorce?”

  “You’re the one who rented out the St. Regis for it!” She poked my shoulder. Hard.

  “It was the least I could do to show my appreciation.” I shrugged. My relationship with my father had vastly improved, thanks to the special magic Zoe herself was able to perform on Benjamin Brownlow. But the magic between Benny and Zuzu hadn’t lasted. Zoe was still sad about it, and I was sad that she was sad, but it otherwise didn’t bother me much.

  And now I got to dance with my girl, all dressed up. The invitation required all guests to wear black. In Manhattan, that was not difficult to do. Maybe for Zuzu’s hippie friends, but some of them went with turtlenecks and berets and acted like Beatniks from the Fifties. Weirdos.

  Zoe wore a black lace dress that hugged her curves from her shoulders down to her calves. Thanks to the lining being the same color as her skin, it looked like the black lace was all she was wearing, other than her smile and some dangly diamond earrings I’d gotten her.

  Spare the rod, spoil the child—wasn’t that the saying? After I’d gotten rid of the rods and all the other things in the toy box, I’d decided that Zoe needed to be pampered a little. Soon she had some pretty shoes on her rack in the closet but stubbornly refused to accept a new credit card.

  I was forced to go out and pick out gifts myself. Goddammit!

  It didn’t take more than three designer boutiques before I discovered that comparing Zoe’s body to the salesladies’ was not the best idea. Nobody wanted to hear “her boobs are perkier than yours, and her ass is rounder”—even on commission.

  So, I went with diamonds and vacations.

  She’d gasped at every box she opened, red or black or blue, her eyes shining like the jewelry inside. Then she’d give me a vaguely uncomfortable smile, and I could see guilt poking at her. I’d had to nag her to wear the trinkets, and she’d tell me that she couldn’t wear emerald tennis bracelets and gumball-sized diamond earrings to the office.

  It was a good thing I hadn’t bought her the tiara.

  Zoe had taken to traveling with more ease, once she got used to spending weekends in Bermuda or Vermont or Hilton Head. Well, she hadn’t gotten used to it, per se, but what was the point of having a lot of money if you couldn’t spend it on the people you loved?

  One day, just before Christmas, her blue eyes bright against her winter tan, she showed her love by putting the iniquity back in the closet.

  “Are you sure?” I asked her as she showed me the new crop of, well, crops.

  “Yes, sir. Very sure. I miss playing with you.”

  It was hard to resist her pout, and the swishing snap of leather against skin. “It’s not punishment anymore, Zoe.” But I couldn’t deny that the occasions on which I still spanked her were sizzling hot for both of us.

  “No, it can be a reward.”

  “I already g
ot my reward,” I said, putting my hands all over her instead of the flogger. Okay, the flogger did come out to play later. She wore black lace that night, too, but it covered a hell of a lot less than her dress did.

  Now, in the ballroom of the St. Regis Hotel, I saw a familiar glint in my girlfriend’s eyes and wondered if I had enough cash on me to sway the coat check girl. I checked the time.

  “Fuck it,” I said, wrapping my hand around her wrist and pulling her off the dance floor.

  She minced behind me, her fancy shoes and tight dress slowing her down. My body was on fire. Who made this such a big hotel? Goddamn! Boutique hostelry was the way to go, and I had the commissions to prove it.

  “Nathan! Wait!”

  She bumped into me with a grunt as I halted. Across the foyer in front of us was the coat check area, with a line twenty people deep. Including Zuzu.

  This time Zoe was the one tugging me along. “We have to at least say hi,” she said over her shoulder.

  “And then bye,” I muttered. “Five minutes, tops.” I had plans for her. For us.

  Zuzu spotted us about six feet out, her arms spreading for Zoe. The wingspan included me but thankfully she made it brief, as she knew I wasn’t a hugger.

  “Congratulations?” Zoe said with an awkward smile on her face. Yeah, were you supposed to celebrate this kind of thing, or offer your condolences?

  Zoe’s mother, who’d dyed her hair black but donned a crimson dress for the occasion, just shrugged her shoulders.

  “Ah, these things happen, honey! Better to have loved and lost—”

  “Than never to have signed a prenup.”

  Zoe elbowed me in the ribs. “Nathan!”

  But Zuzu laughed and touched her nose. “Smart man. Hang on to him, baby.”

  We shared a knowing look. Zuzu was in on my plans for her daughter, and had helped me organize them for tonight. “Bumping into her” was perfectly timed and orchestrated, and now I just needed to get her home.

  I squeezed my girl’s hand and smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ll tie her down soon enough.” We had just the right kind of rope at home.

  “Oh dear god,” Zoe mumbled, her face going crimson.

  I loved it when her skin matched her hair. Most of the time I didn’t have to lay a finger on her to make it happen. For a woman so interested in pushing the envelope, Zoe was very sensitive to paper cuts.

  Five minutes was up, but I could be patient—sometimes. I let her have another two minutes before I couldn’t restrain myself, and dragged her out to a cab. I’m not one of those people who finds the back seat of a taxi particularly romantic, but it was hard to stop myself from running my hand up and down her thigh beside me as her head rested against my shoulder.

  My knee bounced up and down as we approached the apartment. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night. Maybe she’d want a different… I shook my head, reminding myself that I was the master of my fate and I could fucking handle this.

  When we got in the door, I turned her around and pressed her up against it as it shut. My mouth slanted over hers hungrily.

  “Nathan,” she moaned as I sucked on her neck. “That was such a long party.”

  “The party’s just beginning.” Roughly, I pulled down the front of her dress. “I knew it! I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.” I bent over to sip from the cup of victory, my tongue circling her hard nipples.

  “Well, duh. I couldn’t hide a dirty thought in this dress.”

  “Oh really? I bet I could find a good hiding place.” With one hand around her waist, I tugged at her hem with the other one.

  She gasped, her hands clamping around my upper arms, as I found a particularly good secret spot for buried treasure. I only managed to get two fingers in her before she shuddered to completion in my arms.

  “Oh shit!” she panted, her eyes widening in surprise at her racing climax.

  Personally, I was happy she came so fast—and more than a little proud. I had plans, and after I licked my lucky, lucky fingers, a noise from the bathroom reminded me of them.

  I kissed her then rested my forehead against hers. “I love you.”

  Zoe’s smile was like a blooming flower, turning toward the bright sun blazing inside my chest. “I love you more.”

  “I love you most.”

  She pinched me. “Always have to have the final word, huh?”

  “That’s how you close a deal.”

  I waited until she’d toed off her fuck-me heels before leading her into the living room. My heart was jumping in my chest. No property I’d ever bought or sold compared with the one I was bidding on now.

  When she tried to flop down onto the couch, she found the tight dress didn’t allow for much flopping. “I need to get changed,” she announced from her prim perch on the edge of the sofa.

  I glanced toward the bedroom. “Not just yet. I want to talk to you about something.”

  Her frown made my heart rate go up. “You’re telling me not to take off my clothes?”

  Just like that, her amused bewilderment disarmed me. “Something like that. I’m hoping you’ll consider adding something.”

  Her lips parted as I stood over her, my hands heavy on her shoulders. “I swear to god, Nathan, if you bought me another piece of jewelry—”

  “I want to give you a collar.”

  She blinked up at me, her face turning white, then pink. “A collar? Like you want to collar me on the weekends or something?”

  “Not just the weekends. This would be kind of a full-time thing.”

  She grasped my forearms, a stricken look on her face. “I don’t know if I can—” I could tell she was afraid of disappointing me.

  “Just wait here,” I commanded. I shut the bedroom door behind me as I finished getting everything together. When I peeked out again, she was standing by the coffee table, twisting her hands. Just looking at her made me smile, even when she was clearly anxious.

  “Close your eyes,” I told her.

  “Do you want to blindfold me?”

  “Not this time.” Maybe later.

  She screwed her eyes shut. “Okay.”

  I moved in front of her, taking in every detail of her—the way she’d chewed off her lipstick before I got a chance to kiss it off her instead, the way her toes curled into the living room rug, the way her body moved unconsciously while she tried to be still and patient. She was mine.

  “Will you accept my collar, Zoe?” Now she froze. Really, really turned to stone. “You can open your eyes,” I said, hoping to ease her tension. Though part of me was having a little too much fun with this.

  The collar I held up was black, studded, and around the neck of a honey-colored and white puppy that looked like a little fox. She exhaled heavily, then gasped so hard I thought she’d get the hiccups.

  “Different kind of collar,” she breathed, reaching out for the whining toilet paper shredder. “You’re an asshole.”

  “She’s only six weeks old, baby. I think that’s a bit harsh.”

  “I wasn’t talking to the dog.”

  She nuzzled her nose into the dog’s fur, which was challenging while it was trying to lick her face clean of all her makeup. Yuck. I knew from experience that there were much more delectable places on Zoe’s body to lick.

  “So you like her?” I was still a little nervous. We’d talked a lot about the future, but a dog was a big commitment.

  “I like her.” At least, I think that’s what she said. She was trying to speak with her mouth closed, lest the furball French kiss her with excitement. Thank god. Open mouth kisses were my domain.

  “You had me worried. I thought you bought me another big honking diamond I can’t—” She caught sight of the glittering object tied to the puppy’s collar with a black ribbon. “—wear any…where…”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m hoping you’ll consider wearing this anywhere. And everywhere. But at least it’s not a diamond—mostly.”

  It was a big honking ruby ring, a
s big as my thumbnail, rimmed by diamonds and hugged by platinum.

  “Marry me, Zoe.”

  “Different kind of collar,” she murmured again. “Nathan…” She trailed off, leaving her fears and insecurities unsaid but still swollen and heavy between us. I could list every single of them for her, and none of them meant a damn.

  She was mine. I was hers. I was done giving a shit what anyone else said.

  My hands tangled with hers against the collar as the dog was cradled between us. The ribbon I used was too thin and slippery, not to mention my expertise with knots was about to be my own undoing. My next romantic pronouncement was “Fuck this” as I went to get some scissors from the junk drawer in the kitchen.

  Finally the ring was free, but she stopped me from putting it on her hand. My skin chilled. “Just give me a second,” she said quietly, taking the ring from me. Then she put the puppy down on the floor and disappeared into the den.

  I stood there like a mime, my mouth opening and closing silently, while the dog’s paws clicked on the hardwood during her exploration. This was not happening. I didn’t go into deals that I didn’t think I could close.

  “Zoe?”

  What was she doing? Trying the ring on in private? Putting it on Ebay? What? The tables had been turned, and I was now the one submitting to her. I was in complete suspense, poised to live or die by her whim.

  And I had to face facts—Zoe could be pretty whimsical. If she said no, it would be the worst punishment of my life.

  When she opened the door, the puppy skidded into her ankles in excitement. My heart paused. Restarted. She took halting steps towards me, like she was marching down the aisle. I couldn’t wait. I stalked the half a dozen feet to capture her in my arms.

  “Do you think I could use this as my bouquet?” She held up the rose-tipped leather flogger, the ruby engagement ring large and red on her left hand like another rose.

  “You’re marrying me.” My chest was tight and light at the same time. This must be what true joy felt like.

  Zoe nodded, her blue eyes bright with tears. Happy tears. “I’m marrying you.”

  When I let her up for air, I admired the ring on her finger and hummed dramatically. I thought I was being romantic until she burst out laughing.