My Lonely Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 4)

by Serenity Woods

  “Not long now,” Summer advises when she and Zach call in for a visit after lunch.

  “I hope not,” Abby grumbles. “I feel like a balloon that’s been blown up too far. I swear I’m going to go pop at any moment.”

  “You need to try to start the labor off,” Summer advises. She winks at Abby. “Remember what I said?”

  Abby goes scarlet. Zach laughs, obviously in on the joke.

  “We’ll leave you with that thought,” Summer teases, rising and coming up to give me a kiss. “Happy birthday, Noah. You know where I am if you need me.”

  Puzzled, I wave them goodbye at the door, then walk back to where Abby’s sitting on the sofa. Her blush has died down a little, but as I approach, patches of pink appear in her cheeks again.

  “All right,” I say with amusement, my hands on my hips. “Out with it.”

  “It’s just something she said that night they all came around,” Abby admits. “About ways to start off labor.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, um, you know, like eating spicy food and exercising…”

  “And…”

  She bites her lip. “I can’t tell you.”

  I go and sit beside her, pull her into my arms, and kiss her ear. “Yes, you can.”

  “Oh God, Noah…” She shivers. “Summer said… um… nipple stimulation and sex encourages the release of oxytocin, and that can start contractions…” She giggles and pushes me as I start laughing. “Stop it, I’m so embarrassed.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  “Jeez.”

  “Purely for scientific reasons, of course.”

  “Will you stop?” She gets up, somewhat awkwardly, picks up the plates, and waddles into the kitchen. “Our first sexual encounter can’t be, like, a day before I give birth.”

  I sigh and give her a sulky look. “Why not?”

  “Because! If we go to bed together—”

  “When.”

  She gives me a wry look. “If or when we go to bed, I want to be all sultry and alluring. Not having to be lowered onto the bed with a block and tackle.”

  That makes me laugh. I get up and follow her into the kitchen, turn her around where she’s washing the plates in the sink, and put my arms around her.

  “Noah! My hands are wet.”

  “Don’t care.” I kiss her, taking my time, my lips curving up as she slides her wet hands into my hair. “You’re sure I can’t even interest you in an orgasm?” I murmur.

  She hesitates long enough to tell me she’s definitely interested, then pushes me away and carries on with doing the dishes. “Stop bothering me. I’m busy.”

  I laugh and leave her, but the thought plays on my mind for the rest of the day.

  We have a couple of other visitors, and then it’s dinner, and we decide to make an easy pasta dish together, with some homemade herb bread. We eat it out in the conservatory, talking about baby names. Abby’s not made her mind up yet what she wants to call the baby, so she reads from a baby names website, getting the giggles at some of the more exotic names. “How about this—Xzayvian.” She spells it out. “It sounds as if they’re trying to squeeze as many consonants into the name as possible.”

  “It’ll give him a great score at Scrabble.”

  She laughs. “How about Cricket?”

  “As a first name?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well I was a pretty good fast bowler in my youth.”

  She’s got the giggles now. “How about Burger?”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Actually I prefer the name Jesus,” she says, doubling over with laughter.

  I chuckle and collect our plates. “Did you know that in Norway a woman was jailed for two days for naming her child Bridge?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Actually she called him Gesher which means bridge in Hebrew, and Norway has strict laws regulating names. They have lists of acceptable first and last names.”

  “Wow. I read that a New Zealand couple called their twins Fish and Chips, but the government made them change them.”

  I laugh. “Those poor kids. Please tell me you’re not going to call Peanut something bizarre. Like Peanut.”

  “I promise. I’m still thinking about it.”

  I roll my eyes and take the plates out to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s watch a movie.”

  “It’s your birthday,” she says, following me in and taking up her usual place on the sofa. “What’s your favorite movie of all time?”

  “Alien. But I don’t think that’s a great one to watch when you’re pregnant.”

  “Point taken,” she agrees. “Anything else?”

  “Casablanca.”

  “Aw,” she says. “You’re a softie at heart.”

  “I am. Shall we watch it?”

  “Definitely.”

  I put the plates in the dishwasher, pick up a box of chocolates Hal and Izzy brought me around for my birthday earlier, and bring them into the living room.

  I sit beside Abby, at the end of the sofa, put some pillows on my lap, and she turns and puts her legs up, leaning back so I can put my arm around her. She gives a happy sigh, and I start the movie, then offer her the box of chocolates. She chooses one and pops it in her mouth, and I have another.

  The movie starts, and we settle back, enjoying the story. I feel nicely relaxed and mellow. I’ve had a nice day. It was good to see my folks, and everyone else who’s called in today. And it’s even better now, with the fire leaping, the dogs curled up at our feet, and Abby in my arms. She’s wearing a pretty pale blue top and navy skirt, and her hair shines where it’s spread around her shoulders. She’s put on a little weight, and it suits her. She looks all glowy and feminine.

  She chooses another chocolate, a Turkish delight, bites it in half, then offers me the other half. Feeling a surge of mischievousness, I hold her wrist, take the chocolate from her fingers, then suck off the small spots of chocolate that have appeared on the tip of her thumb and forefinger. I take my time, washing my tongue over her skin, and eventually her gaze rises to look at me, her lips parting and her eyelids falling to half-mast as I continue to suck.

  “You’re a naughty boy,” she murmurs.

  “Is that a complaint?”

  She sucks her bottom lip. “No.”

  I let my lips curve up and lower them to hers.

  Chapter Twenty

  Abigail

  We exchange a long, slow kiss, and by the time Noah raises his head, his eyes have taken on a dreamy, hazy look of desire.

  “I think you should reconsider my proposal,” he says.

  My heartbeat immediately increases. “What do you mean?”

  “I think we should try to get your oxytocin flowing.”

  I push him. “Stop teasing me.”

  He kisses my nose, then my lips again. “I’m not. The oxytocin would be a by-product. I want to give you pleasure, Abby. To make you feel good. Is that such a terrible thing?”

  I stare into his beautiful violet-blue eyes. “You’re serious.”

  “I am.” He strokes my cheek, down to the hollow of my throat, and a little way down my collarbone. “You’re so beautiful. You turn me on.”

  I don’t believe him. He’s just being nice. “You’re pulling my leg.”

  Before I can stop him, he slides an arm beneath my knees and lifts me onto his lap. My jaw drops as I feel his erection beneath me. “Holy shit.”

  “I’ll honor your wishes,” he says. “I won’t make love to you properly until after the baby’s born. But I don’t see why we can’t have a little fun in the meantime.” He traces a finger across my chest, just above my breasts.

  God, is he serious? I want this so much. I let him kiss me, while he rests a hand on my knee, then runs it down my calf to my ankle. I sigh and lift a hand to cup his face, then slide it into his hair.

  He kisses me for a long while, dipping his tongue into my mouth, until I’m breathing heavily and trembling in his arms. Then he lifts h
is head and kisses my nose. “Take off your bra,” he says softly.

  I give a short laugh, then look at his face and realize he’s serious. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I whisper. My nipples leak milk occasionally, and I can’t believe any guy finds that attractive. But he nibbles my bottom lip with his teeth. My lips curve up, and then I lean forward, slide my hands behind my back, and unclip my bra. The release of the elastic is a blessed relief. “Ooh.” I blow out a breath. “That’s better.” I extract the straps through the sleeves of my top and remove the bra without taking my top off. No way am I stripping off in front of him the first time we do anything intimate.

  I drop it onto the table, then look up at him.

  His erection is like an iron bar underneath me, but he ignores it and kisses me again, stroking over my shoulders, down my arms, up again, across my breastbone, between my breasts, and then he finally cups one in his hand. I inhale, and he lifts his head and watches my face as he brushes over my nipple with his thumb.

  I give a helpless sigh, and he kisses me again, this time sliding his hand beneath my top. He runs his fingers across the top of my bump, then up to cup my bare breast, and his breath whispers across my lips.

  “So soft…” he murmurs, taking my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugging it gently.

  “Mmm, Noah…” I lift my arm around his neck, leaning into the kiss. As he teases my nipples, I know there’s moisture forming because I can feel his fingers on the wet skin, but he doesn’t stop; instead, he groans and plunges his tongue into my mouth, kissing me deeply as he brushes the moisture across my skin and continues to arouse me.

  He moves from one nipple to the other, gently teasing them until my breaths come in light moans. Then he shifts his hand back to my knee and strokes up my thigh, under my skirt.

  “Open your legs,” he murmurs.

  I part them slowly, and he continues to slide his hand up the inside of my thigh. At the top, he runs his fingers lightly over the cotton of my panties.

  I sigh, so he does it again, stroking there, and I know the cotton is growing damp as my moisture soaks through it. Oh… that feels heavenly… I literally can’t remember the last time someone’s done this for me. He strokes me for a while, then finally lifts the elastic and slips his fingers beneath it. Gently, he parts my folds and slides two fingers down.

  My head tips back and I give a long, heartfelt sigh. “Noah… Jesus. That feels… aaahhh… amazing…”

  “Slowly,” he scolds, giving me light strokes, teasing me, before eventually circling a finger over my clit. He’s still kissing me, every now and then slipping his fingers down to tease my entrance. He doesn’t penetrate me, just keeps stroking, moving from light brushes to firm strokes as my breathing turns more ragged.

  “Come for me,” he murmurs, lowering me back onto the pillows, and kissing down my neck to my breast. He closes his mouth over a nipple through the fabric of my top and sucks gently, stroking my clit, and I clutch my hand in his hair as my climax hits. Oh God that’s fantastic, sweetly beautiful. But as amazing as the physical sensation is, I’m just as touched by the fact that he’s doing this for me, that he wants to give me pleasure. My body pulses and clenches, until eventually I push his hand away.

  He moves back, lifting his head to look at me.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” I’m breathing heavily, looking up into his eyes.

  He gives me a somewhat smug smile. “What?”

  I shake my head, looking at him with wonder. “What do you do to me?”

  He bends and kisses my lips. “It’s just a taste of all the things I want to do to you once the baby’s born.”

  I stroke his face. “Will you let me do the same for you?”

  He kisses my nose. “Not tonight. It won’t be long and then we’ll be able to concentrate on each other. First, though, we’ve got to sort out little Peanut here.” He strokes tenderly over my bump.

  I bite my lip. “Thank you.”

  “For what? Making you come?”

  “That as well. For making me feel beautiful.”

  He frowns, obviously having no idea how much that means to me. So I kiss him again. Just because.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Noah

  After her orgasm, Abby dozes off on my lap. I smile as I stroke her bump, feeling Peanut stir beneath my fingers. There’s nothing better than giving a woman pleasure, and the wonder and delight on Abby’s face at the end was a joy to behold.

  Her previous relationship has obviously led her to believe she’s not attractive at the moment. I hope I’ve been able to change her view on that a little. I sigh as I look down at the curve of her neck, the soft skin behind her ear. It would have been so easy to take her to bed, to slide into her from behind, and take my pleasure from her. Her pregnancy wouldn’t have bothered me one bit. But I’m glad I waited. I don’t want her to feel self-conscious or awkward when we eventually go to bed together. No matter how many times I tell her she’s beautiful, Tom’s treatment of her is too ingrained, and it’s going to take a long time to chip away at it.

  Bastard. I should have killed him when I had the chance.

  She twitches and gives a little groan, presumably as she gets one of those Braxton-Hicks contractions that have been bothering her. She’s had backache for a few days, and she tells me the baby has dropped, so I don’t think it’s going to be long.

  For a brief moment, I think back to those final days with Lisa, and my heartbeat picks up. But I force the memory away. Abby will go to hospital and be in the hands of her midwife and all the trained staff. I’ll pace the corridor like an old-fashioned father, waiting for news, and it’ll be a straightforward birth, and everything will be fine.

  I move to the edge of the sofa, gather her in my arms, and stand. She stirs and loops her arms around my neck. “Sorry, did I doze off?”

  “Your snores were drowning out the TV.” I kiss the top of her head.

  She laughs and nuzzles my neck. “Sorry.”

  I take her along the corridor to her room and deposit her on her bed. “Get some rest,” I instruct her. “I was thinking that tomorrow we could try filming you making muffins for the first time.” We’ve discussed the idea of her making videos for YouTube and she’s really keen on the idea.

  “Okay.” She smiles at me, a little shyly. “Thank you.”

  I lean over her and kiss her lips. “Sleep tightly, sweetheart. You know where I am if you need me.”

  I straighten, somewhat reluctantly. I’m tempted to suggest she shares my bed, but it’s best she stays here and remains comfortable.

  I go out and close the door behind me.

  I stay up for a few more hours, finishing the movie and then catching up on the news, take the dogs for a short walk, then lock up the house and go to my bedroom. Spike and Willow curl up in their beds over by the window, and I get into bed.

  I lie there for a while, looking out at the moon that’s casting a silvery path on the Pacific. I examine my feelings to see if I feel a touch of guilt for giving Abby pleasure tonight. Part of me has always thought that if I really loved Lisa with all my heart, I’d remain a monk for the rest of my life. But I no longer think it works like that. I did love her—I still do. She’ll always have a special place in my heart. But she’s gone, and I’m still here. And now I have this chance to be happy again. I’d be a fool to throw that away.

  I think about the moment the doctor told us the baby had died, and she was going to have to give birth to a dead baby. Even now, it makes me twist inside. She’d been too ill to hold the baby afterward. I’d cuddled my daughter for a while, tears streaming down my face, shocked at how she seemed so perfect, even though she would never draw her first breath. Giving her to the midwife to take away was possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.

  It’s not going to happen this time, though. Brock’s done an ultrasound, and the midwife has listened to the baby’s heartbeat several times. I ask Abby every day if she
’s felt the baby move, and she just smiles patiently and says yes.

  I’m not a curse, or a jinx. God wasn’t punishing me by taking my wife and baby away. Those thoughts have been there for ten years, and I can’t deny they haven’t reared their ugly heads since meeting Abby. But que sera, sera, and terrible things aren’t going to happen just because she’s with me.

  I close my eyes, shutting out the moon, and refuse to open them, even though it takes me ages to get to sleep.

  *

  I’m awoken by Willow, whining at the door. I turn over and open my eyes, frowning as she scrapes at the frame. Lifting up, I press the button on my phone and check the time. 06:37. It’s still dark, and it’s unusual for the dogs to get up before I do. Willow whines again. Sighing, I blink the sleep away, swing my legs over the bed, and get up. I’m wearing my boxers, but I pull on a pair of track pants and open the door.

  To my surprise, Willow doesn’t turn right and head for the living room. Instead, she turns left and trots along the corridor toward Abby’s room.

  I follow her, puzzled. I’m halfway there when I hear Abby give a long groan.

  Reaching the door, I pause a moment, then knock lightly on it. “Abby? Are you okay?”

  “Noah?” She groans again. “Come in.”

  I open the door and go in. She’s turned on the bedside light, and she’s sitting back on the pillows. She rolls her eyes at me as I walk in. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “Willow heard you. Is everything okay?”

  “I’ve got really bad backache. It keeps coming and going. Does that mean I’m in labor?”

  My heart bangs on my ribs. I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to look calm. “Maybe. Are there any other signs?”

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s just gotten worse and worse over the past few hours.”

  “Then you could well be in labor. It’s probably best we take you to hospital, just in case.”

  She blows out a long breath, looking up at the ceiling. “Why did it have to happen at night?”

  I smile. “Peanut doesn’t know what time of day it is. Anyway, it’s nearly morning. The sun will be up soon. Look, why don’t you get dressed? I’ll put the dogs out, and I’ll ring the midwife and tell her.”