Billionaire's Secret (Carver Family)

by Lyz Kelley

  His hands cupped her sensitive nipples and she about lost control. She spread her legs to allow in more access.

  “You are magnificent,” he breathed into her ear.

  She whimpered with need and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist.

  Moments later she pulsed in pleasure. Oh, Oh, OH. He continued to thrust, keeping time with each pulse wave. He inhaled, his hand intertwining with hers. He plunged to pleasure.

  He rested his forehead on her chest. “Wow. That was sensational.”

  “Sensational?” She giggled.

  He propped up on his elbows and drew a line down between her breasts. “What word would you use?”

  Seriously? He wanted one word. A dozen came to mind, including heavenly, fantastic, unimaginable to name a few.

  She sighed and turned her head away, “Special.”

  With a finger, he rotated her head to look at him. “Say that again.”

  “I said, it was special,” she spoke the words with a vulnerability she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  He took a deep breath. “Thank you. Your trust in me means a lot.”

  He cocooned her in his arms.

  For the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt safe. He’d given her that gift. A gift she wanted to repay somehow.

  “No. Thank you,” she sighed, and snuggled in.

  Chapter 17

  Weston woke to the sun streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. The light in the room and the heat on his face seemed odd. Rarely did he sleep past sunrise. The scent of peach blossoms and lovemaking combined with the air he breathed and did nothing to unravel the odd sensation.

  Courtney? He reached for her, to pull her into his arms, but only the chill of cotton sheets greeted him and jerked him awake.

  He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  Wait a minute.

  He looked at the door.

  Movement.

  He glanced at the alarm pad on his bedside table and saw the motion detector on the third floor blink red. He pulled on a pair of shorts and trotted down the stairs.

  Humming interspersed with a sentence or two of a chorus echoed up the stairwell. The richness of the alto tones lightened his steps and invited his heart to sing along. His descent slowed when he reached the landing.

  The view made his pulse pound.

  His shirt barely covered her rump, and her tangled, every-whichway hair flowed freely down her back while she danced and chopped and stirred her way around his kitchen, oblivious to his presence. He moved to the kitchen doorway and propped his shoulder against the wall to watch.

  “Holy crap, you scared me!” she wheezed. She yanked at the cord hanging down and popped out her earphones. “Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Yes,” he responded to her question, but his physical response would have been to pull her back upstairs for a repeat performance.

  He moved around the counter to enfold her into his arms. “Good morning.” He dropped his head and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. “Mmmm. Sweet peppers.”

  She licked his top lip. “Sexy man. You sure know how to turn a lady on.”

  “Are you turned on, Courtney?”

  “Always.”

  Oh, baby. He cupped her bottom and pulled her against him. “Me too.”

  She dropped her spatula in the sink. “Now I know why you have such large counters.”

  He gripped her waist and lifted, setting her on the marble top, and then moved between her legs, scooting her to the edge. “Nice shirt.”

  “It smells like you.”

  “And I like seeing you wear it.”

  He unbuttoned the first button and planted a kiss between her breasts. “You remind me of an herb garden. I love the mixture of rosemary and mint and eucalyptus.”

  “Mmmm, lovely. Why those herbs?” Courtney traced a finger down his cheek.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I like gardens. My grandmother had a summer house in Newport, Rhode Island, and her gardens were impeccable. She had a rose garden with her own hybrids, and her iris garden was featured in several gardening magazines. She had more than forty different varieties that bloomed in spring and summer. Some had beards, others didn’t. Some had a crest. The herb garden in the back, outside the kitchen alongside her vegetable garden, had dozens of different edible plants. She had all the normal stuff like parsley, dill, basil, but she also had the hard-to-grow stuff, like white sage and bay leaf.”

  “You sound like an expert.”

  “It’s hard not to be when my siblings and I spent weeks there every summer. We would go out on the boat, or swim, or play tennis all day. Those summers in Rhode Island were the best. On Saturdays, Gran would always make her famous cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting. She’d melt it on top. Oh, it was sooo good. In the afternoons we’d have tea and salad with fresh-baked bread and fruit for dessert. The food was always fresh.”

  “Stop, you’re making me hungry.” She licked his bottom lip. “I don’t have a favorite day of the week, but I’m thinking any day with you is quickly becoming my favorite.” She smoothed the strands of his hair back, and then tilted his chin up. “Kiss me.”

  He clasped the back of her neck to inch her face forward. “Oh, babe. You’re so beautiful.”

  She moaned and pressed closer.

  He skimmed his hand lower, exploring the folds at her core. Her legs tightened for a heartbeat, then loosened. “Oh, God. Yes.”

  “Do you like this?” He played and explored.

  “Yes. So good.”

  He nibbled on her neck. “Only good? Let me see what I can do about that.”

  The pressure expanded, and she opened her legs wider. “Ohhh. Yes, right...there.”

  Her body moved and swelled, and her hand clamped onto his shoulder, holding onto him. Her head fell back with a groan, and she clenched around his fingers. He stood, pulled her forward, and lowered her into his arms, moving into the living room and lowering her onto the couch.

  The way she moved and heated to his touch excited him more than anything he’d ever experienced before. He loved to watch her head fall back and her lips part.

  “Courtney? Yes or no?” Her glazed eyes told him what he needed to know, but he needed to hear the words.

  “Hell, yes,” she breathed.

  Her whole body smiled as he pressed up and into her slowly, so slowly his knees wanted to buckle, but her needs came first. Always first.

  “More,” she whispered.

  He obliged. Her panting breath sent a hot blaze across his skin.

  With a deep breath, he pressed to her core. “You feel so amazing.” He burrowed his nose in her hair taking in her fruitiness and musk.

  “Harder,” she whispered in his ear.

  Jesus, woman. She’d taken most of him and wanted more. He pulled back and thrust forward, giving her all of him.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “Oh, yes,” the praise ended on a higher pitch.

  A ripple of ecstasy pulsated through him. He pumped slowly, and then faster, depending on her body signals. Her nails poked into his back. Her panting stopped as she shuddered. She groaned. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer.

  “Gorgeous,” he gritted out. “Oh, so beautiful.”

  He rode with her to the top of the ecstasy. When a jolt of release thudded through him, he took a deep breath and groaned while a surge of energy tingled up from his toes and vibrated all the way up and out the top of his head. When the surges finally eased, he dropped his head to rest on her shoulder, his muscles mush.

  He leaned against the couch for support.

  For several moments he held on and prayed his arms didn’t buckle. She sensed his grip loosening and reached back to steady her body and move farther back on the couch.

  “Wow,” she choked out. “That was amazing. Please tell me you thought that was amazing.”

  “It was beyond amazing,” he blurted, before he could pause to come up with a more manly or sexy phrase. />
  She giggled, “Holy shit. Look at the time. I was supposed to be at the shelter ten minutes ago.”

  “Um, Courtney. I’m sorry about not wearing a condom. I wasn’t expecting—”

  “I had protection surgically implanted four years ago. We’re good.”

  He didn’t know why, but a small flash of disappointment shot up his chest. “A device implant seems rather long-term. Don’t you want kids?”

  “I do, I just never thought....”

  “...that you’d ever be with a man again?”

  “Something like that.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t against having kids. For the past few years he’d been stifling the need to start a family. He hadn’t known anyone he’d want to start a family with. Then she came along and rocked his world.

  “You don’t have anything to worry about.” He leaned in to nuzzle the soft spot beneath her jawline.

  “I’d better finish making breakfast and then be on my way.”

  He brushed her bangs aside and kissed her cheek. “You sure you don’t want to stay? I’ll be happy to shoot for three in a row.”

  “Mr. Carver, your offers are so deliciously tempting.” She gently worried her lip. “Is that the line you use with all the women in the morning?”

  His kisses stopped. “I’ve never before stayed with a woman till morning,” he whispered against her skin. “You’re my first. So, what do you say, Courtney?”

  “I’m your first all-nighter?”

  “Yes. You’ll be the first woman I’ve ever had sex with in the morning.”

  A wicked smile flashed in her eyes. “I say yes.”

  Chapter 18

  “I’m starved.” Courtney opened the refrigerator door. “Would you like me to fix lunch?”

  But paused when she looked back and saw a freshly shaved and showered Weston Carver, his T-shirt clinging to his torso and the back muscles she’d caressed an hour earlier.

  “I can help.” He pulled out a fresh loaf of whole grain bread. “There’s some turkey and Havarti cheese in the middle drawer. If you can pull out the meat and cheese, I’ll make some fresh pesto.”

  “Oh, yum.” She retrieved the deli bags and set them on the island. “I’ll cut the bread.” She headed for the pantry.

  “Wait. I moved the bread knife to the left side drawer over there.” He pointed to the bank of cabinets on the opposite wall.

  She opened the first drawer and found silverware. The next drawer had kitchen utensils, but no knives. The third drawer held personal items. She began closing the drawer when an old photograph caught her attention. The worn picture gave her pause. The full-color memento of the Carver family told a story she didn’t understand.

  Taken outdoors, in the photograph, the family was gathered under what appeared to be a large oak, and showed Weston’s grandparents sitting in the middle, his parents standing on the outside, and then the kids between them, all dressed in shades of blue. She spotted Weston right away. He was the oldest and stood by his father, with Liam, the youngest, on the other side of his mother.

  Weston had mentioned a younger sister, McKenzie, and she guessed she was the one sitting with her hand on her grandmother’s knee. But who was the young woman standing next to Weston? She measured each feature, going back and forth between Weston and the young woman, finding each facial feature similar, almost identical. A twin?

  She turned to inquire about the picture, but Weston had disappeared into the pantry. She scanned the kitchen, then the attached dining area. From memory, she walked through each room. None of the picture frames in his home displayed a personal photo. Not one. Why wasn’t this precious memory in a frame and displayed on a shelf somewhere?

  The mysterious Weston Carver unsettled her. She had thought him open and giving, but now uncertainty settled into her core. Who was he really? Did anyone know?

  A realization struck hard.

  Her resistance to falling for him wasn’t about his enormous bank account. She didn’t trust anyone who held back. He liked to keep secrets, and apparently Weston was keeping a major secret. He’d never mentioned another sibling. Ever.

  The question was why? What had happened to her?

  He reappeared carrying a mortar and pestle, and set the granite bowl on the counter before opening the refrigerator.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” she closed the drawer, her hunt for a bread knife abandoned.

  He set a hand on either side of her and then tucked his nose in against her neck and licked her skin. “Mmmm. You taste good.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “A question? You just asked one, but you can ask another one.” He nipped the bottom of her ear.

  She pushed at his chest, refusing to be deflected by his banter.

  She needed an answer—a complete answer.

  Uneasiness pressed on her chest, making her breathing difficult. “In this drawer,” she tapped the one next to her hip, “there’s a picture of your family.”

  She felt every muscle stiffen. She moved out from between him and the counter. Alarm bells blared. “I…uh…never mind.”

  He closed a hand around her upper arm and tugged before releasing her. “Ask your question, Courtney.”

  There was no malice in his actions. He scanned her face and waited for her to continue.

  She closed inward to allow her thoughts to flow and identify what she was experiencing. Fear, definitely not. Feeling anxious, probably. She wanted to understand this man. His quirks. His passions. His faults. And understand how each element played a part in making the man the person he was today. He was driven, but why? His drive for money didn’t seem to be his personal goal, but a reaction to something else, and she wanted to understand what had caused such a driving passion.

  “There was an additional young woman in your family photo. She looks like you, almost identical, and appears to be the same age.” She waited for his explanation, but he remained silent. She inhaled to gather her nerve, “Who is she?”

  For a few seconds, he scanned her eyes and searched, and then he took a labored breath. “She’s—she was—my twin.”

  The words came out as if he expected her to understand everything, but she didn’t have a clue what he was trying to say.

  She tilted her head back further to see his face better. “Why didn’t you tell me about your twin? Does she live in New York?”

  His arms tightened around her. “No.”

  “Where does she—”

  “I can’t do this now,” he released her. “I need to make some phone calls.” He turned and headed for the door.

  “You need to make phone calls now? Weston, talk to me. Please.”

  He stopped and turned.

  “Two minutes earlier you were more than willing to spend the day with me. What changed?” she pressed, needing answers.

  “I’m not prepared to talk about that picture or that woman.”

  “That woman?” He couldn’t even say her name. “Fine. I won’t ask, but you need to talk to someone, because you clearly have seriously pent-up feelings when it comes to her. It’s not good to bury whatever feelings you’re hiding.”

  “Says the psychologist.”

  “Says your friend, and now lover.”

  He moved to the kitchen sink and stared out the window, but she got the impression he wasn’t seeing the New York skyline or the afternoon sunshine streaming through the windows.

  His body was tense, and he’d become eerily still.

  “Weston?” She laid her palm against his shoulder. The tension vibrated beneath her hand. “I promise not to ask about the photo again.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief when his jaw released and he took a step away to stretch his back.

  “What do you say to some fresh air? Valerie is covering me today and I’ll take the night shift.” She rubbed his back to soothe and calm. “I don’t get to the upper east side often. There’s a café a few blocks over that serves this amazing beet, avocado, and arugula sa
lad with a Greek yogurt and honey dressing. It’s one of my favorites. The peach iced tea isn’t bad, either.”

  A stream of air flushed out of his lungs. “You are so kind and respectful.” He rotated, pulling her closer, and placed a hand under her jaw while his thumb stroked her chin. “Thank you.”

  “Respectful? Nope. Most of the ladies call me a bitch for calling them out. It’s my job to get them to own their feelings. If they’re angry or frustrated, they need to own the feeling, explore why they’re feeling the way they do. One of my favorite expressions is, “If you’re going to show your attitude, then own it,” she punctuated the last two words hoping Weston would own it.

  “Are you trying to get me to own my feelings, Courtney?”

  “If you are hiding some hurt, yes. It’s not good to hold anger, hurt, or whatever inside.”

  “I will. When it’s the proper time—and before you push, now is not the time.”

  Aargh. Men. Whatever hurt he was hiding, he was ready to burst he was holding on so tight.

  “About that café.”

  “Yes. Lunch sounds good.”

  He needed to let angst go. Otherwise, he’d never be able to have a proper relationship—if he had any interest in being with her.

  Anything less than one hundred percent honesty was a romance killer.

  Chapter 19

  Courtney stood behind the podium, her hands shaking, her throat dry. “I thought I could do this, but…” She tried again to swallow, but the saliva got stuck.

  “You can do this.” Valerie and Linda responded in concert.

  She shook her head and clasped her hands to prevent the women from seeing them tremble.

  Linda approached the huge stage with lights shining in her face and dozens hanging above her head. “Everyone gets nervous giving speeches. That’s why we are doing this run-through. The goal is to get comfortable with the setting and equipment. The more you practice, the easier it will be. If you forget what to say next, you can rely on the teleprompter.” Linda pointed to the big black monitor sitting below the stage.