The Billion Dollar Bad Boy (14 page)

She cried out, convulsing around him, her nails digging in hard, her body arching.

And as he watched the climax light up her face, he finally let himself go. Giving himself up to the pleasure, moving hard and fast until his own climax shot up his spine. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweetness of her as he closed his eyes and let it take him.

*

Victoria lay on the sofa, pinned by the weight of Donovan’s body. She didn’t want to move. Perhaps not ever. So she didn’t, contenting herself with letting her hands stroke his back instead, feeling the gentle flex and release of his muscles as he breathed.

After a long time, he finally shifted, his mouth brushing her neck, making her shiver. “Wait there,” he murmured. “I need to deal with the condom. I won’t be long.”

He moved off her and disappeared through the doorway.

Perhaps she should get dressed? She glanced over to where her gown lay on the floor, along with her underwear, but didn’t feel any inclination to put it on. No, all she felt was a kind of lazy, sensual satiation. Like a cat enjoying the sun.

She rolled onto her side and her gaze fell to the coffee table, scattered with bits of paper, including some building plans. Curious, she sat up and took a closer look.

They were plans for the docklands estate, marked and scribbled on with calculations involving sums of money, initial expenditures, and profit projections. On other bits of paper were sketches of buildings, gleaming glass curves and angles. One of a park and a high-end-looking shopping strip. Another, of all things, looked like a museum.

She blinked. These were Donovan’s.

At that moment, something soft was draped around her, a blanket. She looked up as Donovan came to sit beside her. “I thought you might be cold.”

“Very thoughtful.” She pulled the soft material around her. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

She gestured to the coffee table. “These plans. Looks like they’re for the docklands.”

He lifted a hand, ran his fingers through his black hair, a guarded look on his face. “Yeah. Just a few ideas I was playing around with. Nothing major.”

“Oh, come on. I thought we were over the ‘it doesn’t matter’ stuff?”

Blue eyes met hers. “And I thought we weren’t going to talk business.”

“Technically we’re not talking business. We’re talking about your ideas.” She smiled. “Show me, Van. I’d really like to see.”

Slowly, he smiled. A natural, almost boyish smile. “Okay. Wait there and I’ll get some wine.”

They discussed it for hours. Over wine and some delicious little things he brought out from the kitchen: cheeses and grapes and antipasto.

His vision for the area was incredible, a sensitive melding of the past with the present. An acknowledgement of the land’s dark history yet with a positive emphasis on the future. On moving forward. She loved the concept, even sharing with him her own thoughts, and soon the plans were a mess of scribbles and sketches, papers with calculations scattered all around them, an exciting project, bigger and better than anything either of them could have imagined by themselves taking shape in front of them.

“I don’t understand why your brother won’t listen to you,” she said, sipping her wine. “Selling the land won’t make the past go away.”

Donovan finished the note he’d been scribbling then sat back. “He’s like Dad, he thinks everyone will forget if it’s swept under the carpet.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A hard look crossed his features. “I have a meeting with him tomorrow. And I’m intending to make it clear he’s going to sell that land over my dead body.”

It was an uncomfortable reminder of what they’d both purposefully put out of their minds for the night. That land and each of them with their own, very good reasons for wanting it.

God, she’d loved tossing around ideas with him but he was right to keep business out of this. This night was about them, not the land deal.

Victoria put down her wine, shrugged the blanket off her shoulders, and took the pen out of his hand. Then she crawled over and sat in his lap. “Let’s talk about something else,” she said, running her fingers over his bare chest. “I can think of a few topics.”

The hard look disappeared, flames lighting in his eyes. “And I can think of a few better uses for that mouth of yours than talking.”

Hours later, still naked and utterly comfortable with it, Victoria lay back on the couch in his arms, pleasantly drunk from the wine, not to mention from him.

“You know, I think I was right,” she said, looking at the stuffed-full bookshelves all around his apartment. “You probably do sit around reading Tolstoy all day.”

He must have remembered their first encounter in the elevator because he laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’d prefer a cheap thriller any day.”

“Oh, sure. You and your set of first edition Hemingway’s. Don’t think I didn’t see them sitting on that shelf over there.”

Gently he tugged her head back, his fingers coiled in her hair. Gave her a long, lingering kiss. “I have a very old and expensive copy of the Kama Sutra, too,” he murmured against her mouth. “Care to have a read?”

“What? Again? Anyway, I don’t need to. You probably memorized the whole thing.”

“Almost. And practiced it, too.”

“I bet. Is there anything you haven’t done?”

“I haven’t done you. In a bed.”

“No. You haven’t.” She let her fingers slide over the hot skin of his chest, feeling the shift of his muscles beneath her touch, hearing the catch of his breath. Watching the burn of desire in his eyes. Her effect on him … “So what’s stopping you now?”

Nothing as it turned out.

Donovan’s bedroom was dark and cool, the bed large, the sheets white and soft against her skin. Yet even those things fell away when he touched her. And soon there was nothing at all but pleasure.

She woke sometime after six a.m., his arms locked around her, and even though they’d spent the majority of the previous night making love, she couldn’t recall another time when she’d woken feeling so good.

Yawning, she stretched and twisted in his arms, looking up to find him watching her.

He didn’t say anything, only smiled, and her heart contracted inside her chest because it was that warm smile, full of heat and sensuality and genuine pleasure. The one that came from the heart of him, not the empty playboy smile.

And hard on the heels of that weird tightness came another feeling. A sense of loss.

Their one night was over. Soon she’d have to leave.

He must have seen something in her eyes because he frowned, reaching out and pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear in a casual, tender gesture that tightened the feeling in her chest even more. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”
Crap. You know.
She let out a silent breath. “I felt … sad for a moment. I don’t want this to be over.”

His fingers brushed her ear then trailed down the side of her neck. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be.”

Her heart gave a ridiculous leap. “You want us to keep seeing each other?”

“Sure,” he said easily. “Why not? There’s nothing to stop us, is there?”

She looked away. There wasn’t exactly nothing. There was the deal, for a start.

It’s not about the deal though, is it?

No, it wasn’t. It was about the fact that she was in danger of falling for him.

Victoria stared at the tanned skin of Donovan’s torso, all hard cut muscle, lean and strong. He was as beautiful under his clothes as he was with them on.

You’re not in danger of falling. You’ve already fallen.

She felt cold and exposed all of a sudden. Like her skin had been peeled away, leaving all the nerve endings raw.

It was too late, wasn’t it? She
had
fallen for him. And where did that leave her? They hadn’t agreed on anything more than a night. Caring wasn’t a part of the deal and neither was love. But, God, maybe she wanted it to be.

“Victoria?” he murmured, a finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “What do you think? Another few nights? More?”

“How much more?” she asked carefully. She had to know where she stood before she committed herself to anything. Because she had a horrible feeling he probably didn’t feel the same way. And if he didn’t … But no, she wasn’t going to think that, not yet.

His smile deepened. “I don’t know. Perhaps until we’re both sick of each other?”

A sharp sliver of disappointment cut through her.
He doesn’t feel it …
“And how long will that take do you think?”

“Does there have to be a time limit?”

“Well, with you there usually is, isn’t there?” It came out sharper than she’d intended.

He touched her mouth with his thumb, caressing her lower lip gently, frowning. “Something’s wrong? What is it?”

She forced a smile. “No, of course not.”

“Hey, isn’t that my line?”

“It’s fine, Donovan.”

“Bullshit it is. And since when did I go from being Van back to being Donovan?” His fingers closed around her chin, holding her. “You don’t want more? Is that it?”

She couldn’t look at him, focusing on the white pillow behind his head. “Actually, I don’t think more is a good idea.”

His frown deepened. “Why not?”

“Oh … a number of things. I mean, we haven’t even resolved what’s happening with the deal for a start.”

His gaze searched hers, too sharp, too perceptive. “This isn’t about the deal. What’s going on, Victoria?”

She wanted to look away but he was holding her chin now, keeping her gaze on his. And the very last thing she wanted to do was tell him the truth. But he wouldn’t leave this alone, and she knew it.

“I don’t want another couple of nights,” she said hoarsely. “I want more than that.”

The crease between his brows didn’t budge. “And I told you I’m fine with that. We can keep doing this until—”

“Until what?” A shiver went through her, a weird kind of tremble. “Until we’re sick of each other, you said. Well, what if I never want to stop doing this? What if I never get sick of you?”

He blinked, as if she’d slapped him. “What are you saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying? I’ve … fallen for you, Van.”

All the color drained from his face. Then abruptly he looked away, an expression flickering in his eyes she didn’t understand. Releasing her, he then untangled himself from around her, sliding off the bed, and going over to where his jeans lay on the ground, picking them up.

Victoria gripped the sheet, cold from the loss of his warmth creeping over her skin, and another kind of cold creeping through her heart.

“That was never part of our deal,” he said, jerking his jeans up over his hips.

Of course he didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t feel the same.

Her heart felt like he’d given it a sharp, hard kick.

Why? Did you expect something different? No one ever wants you. No one.

She turned away, sliding to the edge of the bed, struggling to keep all expression off her face. “No, I know it wasn’t.”

Donovan stood near the end of the bed, jeans sitting low on his lean hips. He didn’t look angry. He looked furious. “So why tell me?”

“Why? I thought we were being honest with each other. But I guess that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“No, you’re damn right, that’s not what I wanted.” He thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans, blue eyes burning. “I’m not the man for you, Victoria. And I never will be.”

She slid off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her, knowing she could walk away. Turn around and never come back. But she’d never let him get away with anything before and she wasn’t going to start now.

“And why can’t you be the man for me, Van?” She walked over to where he stood, getting up close. “Give me one good reason.”

“Because I don’t want to be.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “How’s that for a reason?”

“Not good enough. You invited me into your home, you told me about your past. You don’t say those things to women you don’t care about it.”

“What would you know about what I care about?”

“You care about that land. And you care about those plans. And art and books and—”

“Stop,” he said in a hard voice. “We’re not having this discussion. What we’re having is more sex because I have a meeting to get to at nine and I haven’t finished with you yet.”

“Don’t do this.” She stepped even closer to him. Lifted a hand to cup his cheek, the warmth of his skin beneath her palm. “Don’t try to distance yourself from me. I know you’re doing it to protect yourself.”

He jerked his head away from her touch. “You don’t know anything.”

She let her hand fall. “I know one thing. I know I’m in love with you.”

He didn’t want it. Not the words, not the soft look in her eyes, not the feel of her hand. It was too dangerous, too threatening. If she touched him, if he let her, he’d shatter and he couldn’t afford to shatter. Because she was lying.

She couldn’t love him, not after the things he’d done. The men he’d lied to, the women he’d screwed. All the people he’d manipulated over the long stretch of his so-called illustrious career. Sure, he was the face of Morrow, but no one knew the dirtiness behind that face.

No one knew the stains he had on his soul.

“You can’t be in love with me,” he said flatly. “It’s just good sex, that’s all it is.”

“That’s not all it is and you know it, Donovan.”

She stood so close, naked and warm, the sheet still wrapped around her gorgeous curves, her hair in a glorious red fall down her back. And he wanted her so much it hurt.

But he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t take what she was offering. “You’re fooling yourself, darling.” He put as much carelessness as he could in his tone. “A couple of good orgasms don’t mean love, you understand that, don’t you?”

Her gaze seemed to see through him, sharp as a laser beam through clouds. “And why am I fooling myself? Why can’t I be in love with you?”

“A washed up playboy and ex-manwhore? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

. “That’s not who you are, Donovan.”

“Isn’t it? What else am I then?”

Victoria closed the distance between them, reaching for him, and he let her, steeling himself. Telling himself it didn’t matter. Her hands cupped his face and her touch made him want to fall to his knees in front of her. But he didn’t, he only stared at her as she said, “You’re the man I saw last night. Passionate, intense. Thoughtful. Kind. Protective. A good man. A man who feels deeply about things, who thinks about things. You care, Donovan.”