The Billionaire’s Forgotten Fiancée (13 page)

“Good morning,” Zoe said cheerfully. She had on her red apple apron, which she only wore when she was in an exceptionally good mood. “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad,” Ginger said.

Shane was at the table too and gave Zoe his most charming smile when she put more bacon on his plate. “You’re an amazing cook, ma’am. I bet not even Mark’s fancy chefs can make bacon this good.”

She gave him a side-eye, her lips twitching in a suppressed smile. “Who’s going to believe that?”

“Me. And Ginger. And anyone else who’s eaten your food.”

Zoe laughed and put a plateful of scrambled eggs, bacon and home fries in front of Ginger. “Eat. You’ve lost too much weight.”

“All right.” Ginger dug in. Zoe had fretted after she’d come back to the States with Debbie. But she hadn’t known exactly what was wrong, and Ginger hadn’t told her.

She also hadn’t told Shane, and didn’t plan to. Better to leave that pain in the past. It still hurt when she thought about it, and what would be the point of telling Shane now? Debbie had the right attitude—that it just wasn’t meant to be, but heaven would bless her again when the time was right.

Zoe went to the kitchen to look at what kind of dessert to make for lunch and dinner. Ginger leaned over to Shane. “Hey,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Did Trevor say anything to you?”

“About what?”

She leaned closer. “Our noise last night.”

“No. Why?”

She pulled back with a scowl. “I see.”

“What’s that expression for?”

“I know what’s going on. And here I thought Trevor really heard something.”

“Heard what?” Zoe asked, coming back to the table with a pitcher of iced tea.

“Nothing,” Ginger said quickly. “I was having a dream and apparently talked in my sleep.”

“Well, don’t mind him. The slightest little noise will have him up and prowling the house.” Zoe put a hand on Ginger’s shoulder comfortingly. “More bacon, Shane?”

“Please.”

Ginger pushed her plate his way. “You can have mine too.”

“No, you’re going to eat all that.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and ate almost all of her breakfast before excusing herself to go track down Trevor.

The farm didn’t make much profit, but Fraser still worked it anyway. He said it was good to keep busy doing something physically demanding even in old age. “Keeps me young,” he said.

Finally she found them together in the vegetable garden.

“Trevor, can I talk to you for a moment?” she called out.

He wiped his face with a towel and came over. “What’s up?”

“Noisy, am I?”

Trevor shrugged.

“Since you have such amazing hearing, what kind of noise was it? A nightmare? Sex?”

“Jeez. Stop. You’re my sister.”

“I knew it.” She pointed a finger. “You were just saying that to make me behave.”

“So sue me. I’m your big brother.”

“Shane and I are engaged. You shouldn’t act so…Puritanical.”

Trevor winced. “I don’t want to imagine you doing anything with any guy.” Then he got a far-off look. “By the way… About what you said yesterday…”

“What about it?”

“Is it true? He cut all communication with you after going to South Africa?”

“Yes. Why?”

Trevor’s eyebrows pulled into a deep V. “Nothing.”

She tilted her head. “If you know something, can you tell me? It’s important.”

He looked away. “I don’t know anything.”

“
Really?
” she said, fishing for any information he might have.

“Hey. I’m not spying on you and Shane, despite what you think.”

Trevor went back to helping their dad, but her internal bullcrap alarm clanged loud and hard. Trevor knew something.

But why wouldn’t he tell her?

Shane and Ginger left the farm after two more days. They hugged Fraser and Zoe—only Ginger hugged Trevor—and promised to visit again soon, maybe even spend the Fourth of July with them. That had perked up her parents so much that Shane had felt guilty. Just how little time had Ginger spent with them on holidays?

He hadn’t wanted to drive separately, but she didn’t want to leave her car behind, and he didn’t think Mark would appreciate him leaving his precious Aston Martin at the farm.

“Follow me to my place,” he said.

“I don’t need to. I know where you live.” She blinked up at him. “Do you?”

“Of course I do.” Mark’s GPS had Shane’s place programmed. Technology was a wonderful thing.

“Fine. The loser owes the winner lunch.”

“Oh, I think we can do better than that,” he said. “Lunch and twenty minutes of slow head.”

“You’re on,” she said, then dashed to her car.

He let her go first. It was unfair to pit an Aston Martin against a Nissan. He waited ten minutes, then started.

It didn’t take that long, only a couple of hours. The late morning traffic was pretty light. Still he hadn’t spotted Ginger’s car, which was odd, but she’d probably had to stop for gas or something along the way.

When he was about five or so blocks away from his penthouse, he finally dialed Ginger. He had no doubt she knew where his place was, given how long they’d been together. But he hadn’t seen her at all, and she could be in trouble…maybe a blown tire or something.

“Hello, Loser,” she answered.

He laughed. “Who are you calling ‘Loser’? I’m almost at my place now.”

“That makes you the loser. I’m already in your living room.”

What the hell? “How did you get there so fast?”

“I know a shortcut. I’m guessing you just let your GPS guide you?”

He heard her chuckle with satisfaction and had to grin. “I’ll be there in two minutes to pay up.”

He pulled into the underground parking garage at his place. Whistling, he got into the elevator. He didn’t think he’d be happy if he’d lost to someone else, but it was Ginger. Besides, lunch and burying his face in her afterward? That felt more like a gold medal than a penalty.

The elevator stopped on the top floor, and he stepped into the penthouse. It was huge, with an open layout and floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city. At night, the view would be dazzling.

The kitchen had four gas burners and a griddle, plus two ovens and a built-in microwave. An enormous stainless steel refrigerator occupied the center, and pots and pans hung from hooks on the high ceiling. “Was I a great cook?” he asked.

“No. But you let one of Mark’s chefs design the kitchen for you. You wanted it to have everything.” She ran her hand along the marble countertop. “It was your way of telling me you wanted me to have the best. You bought it after we graduated from college.”

“Where did we go?”

“Berkeley.” She smiled. “You only got in because your brothers made a huge donation in your name, I think.”

“How come?”

“You applied past deadline because you heard it was the only school I applied to.”

“Seriously? You didn’t have a backup school?”

“I didn’t want to go anywhere else. It was Berkeley or nothing.”

“Good thing you got in then.”

She grinned. “I know.”

“Where was I supposed to go?” he asked. He was certain his parents had particular expectations, especially Salazar, who undoubtedly wanted to pretend to visit him so he could screw the young things on campus.

“An Ivy League school.”

“I see.” Probably any top-tier university with hot coeds would’ve been acceptable. He looked around. “Where do I keep the takeout menus?”

She reached over and opened the top drawer in the kitchen. “Here.” She pulled out a sheaf of them. “We have Chinese, Italian, Thai and basically everything else. If they don’t deliver, you have the concierge on your speed dial.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Mmm.” She considered. “How about a pepperoni pizza?”

“Works for me.” He ordered a large pepperoni pizza and a bottle of Coke Zero and mineral water. The bored-sounding girl on the line said it’d take about thirty minutes.
Perfect
, he thought.

He tossed the phone on the countertop. “We have half an hour,” he said. “So I move that we have dessert first.”

“Dessert?”

“I believe you won the bet.” He walked toward her, herding her over to the kitchen island. Her face flushed, her eyes brilliant and dark.

She licked her lips. “What if the delivery guy comes early?”

“Time to live dangerously.” He stripped her of her shirt and bra and dropped to his knees in front of her, undoing the clasp on her shorts and pulling them and her panties down her smooth legs, all the while peppering her belly with feather-light kisses.

He dipped a thumb between her legs and grunted with approval at how wet she already was. “Were you thinking about this while you were waiting for me?”

“A little,” she said, her voice unsteady.

He pushed at her legs. “Spread wider and tilt your hips forward. Lean back against the island.”

She did as she was told. He licked a wet path down her belly until he reached the slick prize between her legs. He tongued it gently, licking with just the tip. A tremor ran through her, and he blew on it, then breathed in her scent. Here it was darker and heavier with her feminine musk. He wanted to hear her scream her brains out in his kitchen. Then in his living room. And bedroom. And everywhere else in the penthouse.

He pushed his tongue into her folds and she moaned softly, pushing her sex toward his mouth. He gripped her pelvis, holding her there so he could eat her up.

As he licked and sucked on her clit, she threw her head back, her hair hanging loose. The position pushed her breasts out, the pink tips erect, and the soft mounds jiggling with every labored breath she took. Did she have any idea how fucking gorgeous she was? Everything paled next to her.

He pushed his tongue as far as he could into her tight channel, savoring the way she tasted and felt. She was wound tight, so close that a little nudge and she’d fall apart. She was also damn vocal about what she wanted—
harder
,
faster
,
yes there
,
oh my god
.

Her voice and demands drove him. He wanted to feel her climax burn through her with keen desperation that left him aching.

He coated his thumb thoroughly with her slick juices until it was drenched. Then increasing the pressure of his mouth, he brushed her tight rosette with it.

Her hands dug into his hair. “Oh my god. Shane!” She spread herself wider, completely open to him. Her knuckles whitened as she screamed and came apart. Her legs gave out, and he caught her before she hit the floor.

She shuddered in his arms. “Oh my god…” she moaned.

He kissed her on the mouth. She responded greedily, her body apparently still primed. “I want you inside me so bad,” she whispered against his mouth as she licked her own juices from his lips. “Please.”

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. His cock sprang out, fully erect and hard as marble. “Ride me,” he ordered.

Biting her lower lip, she gripped his shaft and levered herself onto him. She was so slick he slipped right in. He bit back a groan. Holy hell. That felt amazing. Like a hot, moist velvet glove…

Her walls clenched around him as she moved. He rubbed a finger around her folds, getting it wet. As she found her rhythm, he teased her anus then pressed into it.

Sucking in a deep breath, she slowed then stilled. “Shane…”

“Does it not feel good?” he murmured, his mouth traveling over her collarbone.

“It…does, but…”

“Shhh. Don’t overthink it. Just enjoy it.” He licked the pulse on her neck. “Haven’t we done this before?”

She swallowed before shaking her head.

“If you don’t like it, tell me and I’ll stop.”

She moved again, thank god, and he kept his rhythm on her anus synced to hers over his cock. She whimpered, the sound thin with need.

A knot of pleasure tingled in his groin, and he gritted his teeth as he held himself back. Ginger’s pleasure came first.

He braced his feet on the floor and thrust into her harder, increasing the pressure and speed. She watched him, her darkened eyes on his. Her breasts bobbed, and she panted faster. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Come for me, Ginger,” he said.

She clenched her teeth, then threw her head back and screamed as he kept pumping into her. Her walls tightened and milked his cock, making him hiss as an electric sensation spread all over him. She looked like a goddess, her golden hair cascading around her, and her body glowing with pleasure.

Unable to wait anymore, he gripped her ass hard as he ground into her. “
Mine
,” he grated out, then let go and came inside her.

Her arms relaxed around him. The kiss she gave him was cotton candy sweet.

Content with the world, he kissed her back leisurely. Then sighed when the intercom buzzed.

Her belly growled on cue, and she pulled back with a giggle. “Lunch.”

He grazed her stomach with a finger. “Your wish is my command.”

* * *

Ginger munched on a slice of pizza as she looked around the penthouse. Everything was immaculate; it hadn’t changed at all since the day she’d come over to return the engagement ring. The housekeeping had kept the place in tiptop shape, and all the photos and albums on the mantle over the fireplace were dust-free.

Shane pulled three of the albums and brought them to the low table where their pizza was spread out. “So. Are the pictures inside all mine?” he asked.

“No. Some of them are mine and some are your family photographer’s.” She flipped opened the black one. Shane had never let her peek inside it before, calling it “a bunch of old family photos and stupid stuff”.

Inside were pictures of Shane as a baby, then his transformation into a toddler…a boy…then a man. He hadn’t been the happiest child. Kids generally weren’t shy and awkward in front of cameras, especially when they were handsome and generally outgoing. But Shane’s smiles were either stoic or obviously staged at the photographer’s direction. And he wasn’t the only one. His siblings also posed like store mannequins, and his parents were just as stiff, even in the shots where they had their arms around each other.