The Billionaire's Forbidden Desire (26 page)

“No.” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to talk to me.”

“I said get out.”

“And
I
said no. I’m not here as your employee, but as a wedding guest.” When Dane turned around, she leaped and slammed her hand on the door. “You’re not leaving,” she gritted out between clenched teeth. Her hip hurt from the jump, but for once the pain was strangely welcome.

“Are you trying to make a scene?” He gave her an inscrutable look. “It’s going to be embarrassing.”

“You think embarrassment is a problem for me? It can’t be more embarrassing than landing on my butt—in a skimpy dress—in front of tens of thousands of spectators and photographers. Or having photos of the moment plastered all over the Internet.”

Muscles in his jaw worked. He gripped her wrist, and she pressed her entire body against the door.

“If you want to leave, fine. But I’m not going to make it easy for you, and you’ll end up hurting me.”

She waited for his next move, her heart thumping. What if…

“Damn it.” Dane sighed, let go and backed away from her.

A small kernel of hope flared inside her. Despite it all, Dane didn’t want to hurt her, and she had a chance to talk it over with him.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Are you trying to spend the night here? It won’t change anything.”

“You’re right, it won’t. Not if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

He looked away. “Not everything has a neat explanation. Sometimes things just are.”

“No. You don’t get to say that. I’m tired of people telling me how things ‘just are’.” Those were the exact words everyone around her had told her three years ago, supposedly to console her. Screw that. She’d let them talk to her that way because it’d been easier for everyone involved. But she deserved better from Dane.

“It seems to me what you’re really upset about is the lack of an easy orgasm.” His body set in a tight line. His left eyelid twitched as he addressed her, even though he still refused to meet her gaze. “If so, there are plenty of dicks for you to choose from.”

“I don’t want some other dick. I want yours.”

The cold mask slipped. Something dark and volatile seethed underneath, and she clung to it. It was the only sign that he wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be.

“Still don’t get it?” She pushed away from the door. “I want you.”

He closed his eyes, his hands curling into fists.

“You can’t block out the truth,” she said.

“The truth.” He gave a bitter laugh. “All right, fine.” He took several big steps forward and shoved her against the wall. His large, hard body pressed against hers, and she moaned at how good it felt. He pushed his hands into her hair roughly, but she didn’t care as his mouth crashed down on hers.

He kissed her like he wanted to consume her very soul. His lips, his tongue and his teeth engaged, demanding her complete compliance to his needs.

A small voice inside her head said sex wasn’t the problem…or the answer. She knew that, but she was helpless to do anything other than respond as sparks shot through her body. But maybe the physical intimacy would lead him to open up afterward…

He moved his whole body against hers, his mouth plundering hers, one hand gripping her ass and another kneading one sensitive breast. She arched into him, tunneling her fingers into his hair. He pulled down her modest dress and bra until the breast popped free. Instantly he took the nipple between his fingers, and she bit her lower lip to contain a moan.

His fingers reached between her legs and pressed against her flesh through the flimsy fabric of her thong. “You’re already soaked through.”

“I told you I want you.”

He took the hand away and shoved one of the wet fingers into her mouth. She’d never tasted herself like this before, but she didn’t hesitate. She sucked it. The slick moisture on his skin was salty, the texture of his blunt fingertip rough. She flickered her tongue over it like it was the best candy she’d ever had. Cursing, he pulled her breast into his mouth and suckled hard.

Her nerve endings sizzled, and she could barely stand as her legs shook. Heat pulsed through her, desire hot and achy between her thighs.

He pressed his lips to her ear. “How do you want it?”

“Hot. Fast. Hard.” She put a hand behind his neck. “I don’t care as long as it’s you.”

Fabric tore, and he tossed aside her ruined panties. In the blink of an eye, he undid his belt and dropped his pants and underwear. He pulled her up with his hands. She wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out when he plunged into her the same moment he let her drop.

His thick, hard cock impaled her to the hilt. She quivered, feeling impossibly full.

“This how you want it?” he whispered into her ear.

“Yes.” She tightened her inner walls, clutching him.

He started moving, every stroke creating the most delicious friction. She arched her back and moved her hips as much as she could, trying to meet his thrusts. Heat incinerated the nerve endings all along her spine, and she bit her lower lip as an orgasm shattered through her.

Dane didn’t give her even a second to catch her breath. He plunged in and out of her, his movements harder and faster. He adjusted the angle of her hips, and every time he thrust into her, he hit her clit. She fought to drag in air as another climax built. She wanted to prolong the moment, but he had other ideas as he rolled his pelvis and controlled the motion with ruthless determination and precision.

She came again, hard, the peak higher and more intense this time. Her inner muscles clenched around his cock, and he stopped, panting against her neck.

Finally when he could breathe more evenly, he pushed away from her. He was still hard and thick, slick with her juices.

Sophia watched him, her back against the wall for support. Her legs felt like jelly after such intense orgasms. “Your turn,” she said, licking her lips.

He shook his head and wordlessly bent and pulled up his pants. He didn’t look at her, not even once. “Now you got what you wanted. Hope you can sleep well tonight,” he said in a low, deadened voice and walked out.

The heavy-limbed euphoria vanished like somebody had poured a bucket of ice water over her. Her chin trembled, and she pressed her lips together. Her eyes prickled. Gasping, she looked up at the ceiling, but the tears fell anyway.

Wiping her face, she grabbed her torn panties. Then gathering herself, she left the room.

She was through with this.

She’d never allow Dane to hurt her again.

* * *

Fuck
,
fuck
,
fuck
.

Dane made his way to the manmade lake in the grove. The ducks were resting on the water, their soft murmurings soothing. There was a fair amount of moonlight, but he didn’t need it. He knew the terrain from all those summers his family had spent there when his parents had been faking their happiness.

If he had it his way, he’d run, but going full speed with a dick hard enough to break a brick wouldn’t be very smart.

Pulling away from Sophia had almost killed him, but he hadn’t been able to continue. It wasn’t even because she might win. Such trivial things had never concerned him. But he didn’t want to give her false expectations.

He’d never, ever set incorrect expectations with anyone he dealt with.

“Dane.”

He stopped at the voice.

Blake was reclining on a blanket spread on the grassy field. He’d changed his dress shirt and slacks for a casual t-shirt and shorts. He raised a bottle of bourbon and waggled an eyebrow. “Wanna join me?”

Not particularly
. On the other hand, nothing else presented itself at the moment.

Dane plopped down next to his best friend and cousin and opened his palm.

Blake handed the bottle over, and Dane took a few swigs. “You should’ve taken the scotch. We have some good stuff.”

“I was in a hurry. Grabbed the first bottle I saw.”

Dane nodded. People had thought they’d bonded because they were cousins. Wrong. They’d bonded over the copious amount of alcohol consumed to escape the family circus.

“What’s the deal?” Blake said. “You were pretty tense at dinner. Not like you.”

“I was thinking about some…a hypothetical scenario.”

“Like?”

“What would you do if somebody destroyed something you’d worked all your life for?”

“A hypothetical
revenge
scenario, eh? I like it.” Blake pursed his lips. “Dunno. I guess it would depend on how badly I wanted it.”

“How about something you wanted more than life itself?”

“Oh, I’d ruin the son of a bitch. By the time I was through, he’d wish murder was legal.”

Of course. Dane would’ve done the same thing.

“What did Salazar do?”

“It’s not him,” Dane said. “It’s me.” He took the drink from Blake and swallowed another mouthful for courage. “I screwed up.”

Dane then told Blake what had happened in Paris. How his family—Shirley and Salazar—had kept it quiet, along with cooperation from Rick. Blake listened, then shook his head.

“Five’ll get you ten Rick blew the money. He was terrible with it.”

“Probably,” Dane said. “But that’s not all. There’s Mexico.” He explained what had happened there as well in a few succinct sentences. “So it’s…complicated.”

“Tangled,” Blake agreed, nodding judiciously. “Are you going to offer her money?”

“She won’t take it.” Dane didn’t have to make the offer to know her response.

Blake regarded him. “I’d say you want her to take it…but you’re also secretly glad she won’t.”

Dane said nothing. His friend knew him well.

“Since you gave me some good advice that time, I’ll give you some now. You need to decide what you’re going to do about this whole thing. She likes you. No idea why, since you can be a nasty bastard, but who knows what goes on in the female heart? Plus, I could tell from the way she was looking at you during dinner. As for her career, seven years is a long time. She should have gotten over it by now.” Blake took a short draught from the bottle. “Figure skaters retire when they’re young anyway. And there’s the possibility that she’ll never find out who was driving that red Italian number in Paris.”

“But
I
know.”

“Yeah, still…” Blake shrugged. “You’re playing a game of what-ifs. What if you hadn’t been speeding? What if you hadn’t been there?”

Tension tightened Dane’s jaw until his teeth hurt. “They’re valid questions. If I hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have been injured.”

“But see, you don’t know that. She could’ve slipped and fallen on an icy sidewalk and hurt herself the day before the big competition. A green Maserati could have come through at the next light and
killed
her. Besides, instead of focusing on what
you
could’ve done, what if her cab driver hadn’t been speeding? What if he’d been more careful? Taken a different route?” Blake shrugged again. “On top of everything else, there’s no guarantee that she would’ve won the Olympics anyway.”

Dane shook his head. “Don’t twist things for my convenience.”

“I’m just saying.” They lay there for a few moments, listening to the night. “You can push her away,” Blake finally said, “but that’ll have consequences.”

No kidding. The hurt and devastation had shattered the blissful glow in her eyes when he’d walked out on her. He’d crushed a lot of people’s hopes before without batting an eye—in his line of work, it was a weekly occurrence. But with Sophia, he felt like pond scum.

“If you want her and she wants you, don’t be a martyr. It doesn’t suit you. Make her happy if you really want to atone for Paris.”

“A self-serving rationalization,” Dane said, even as selfish hope stirred in his heart.

“No, it’s a practical suggestion. The past can’t be changed, but you can decide what you want for the future. But here you are, trying to ruin it over something that happened seven years ago. That isn’t like you. It’s sentimental…ridiculous, even. Serves no purpose.” Blake plopped down on his back, staring at the sky. “Just think for a while, and you’ll see that I’m right.” He shot Dane a cocky grin. “As usual.”

Dane swished the bottle. There was hardly any left. “Let’s go back in and raid the bar. The seniors are off to bed.”

The last thing he wanted to do was stay sober and think about what Blake had said about making Sophia happy to atone for the past.

* * *

Sophia went to her room, the ruined panties balled up in her hand. The stickiness between her legs had gone cold, and she grimaced the whole way. The recent orgasms still echoed through her body, but her heart felt like a rock in her chest.

The mistress’s room had its own entrance. Maybe a couple having separate rooms was an old money thing. Her parents had shared a bed even when they’d disagreed over something. They’d rarely fought. Expending that much energy over each other had been regarded as pointless.

She tossed the underwear in a dark plastic bag to be thrown out when she returned to the city.

“So you made it back.”

Yelping, she turned around. The doors to the bathroom were open on both ends, and Salazar sat at the edge of his bed with a bottle of scotch. The top two buttons on his shirt were undone, and his hair lay messy, like he’d run his hand through it a few times.

“Why are you still up?” She forced a smile, hoping he hadn’t seen what she’d been putting away. “Tomorrow’s the big day.”

“Ah, doesn’t matter. Can’t ever get to sleep before midnight anyway. Just the way I’m wired.” Salazar lifted the bottle. “Want some?”

The gesture reminded her of how Dane had been in Mexico, sending a sharp pang through her heart. “Maybe just a sip,” she said, coming over.

He poured her a full glass, almost to the rim. She sat next to him and sipped the drink, careful not to choke on the fiery liquid.

“It’s good you missed the rest of the dinner,” he said. “It was awful. Dane the Killjoy. And my sister… Jesus. She just won’t shut up about anything.” He took a long swallow straight from the bottle. “But nobody can make her keep her mouth closed since Geraldine’s everyone’s favorite. Not even Dane stops her because apparently my mother told him to be nice to her. Can you believe that? My own son ignores me, but not my shrilly old bat of a mother.”