Bad Hookup: Billionaire’s Club Book 4

by Elise Faber

  Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and he hurried to wipe them away. “Even then I think I’d still love you because you’re not just in here—” He brought her hand to his chest, above his racing heart. “You’re in my brain, my body, my soul. And I’m sorry I blurted it out like that, but I swear I fell half in love with you the first moment I met you.”

  Finally, she seemed to unfreeze. Her eyes locked on his and her mouth curved. “Only half?” she asked.

  Bas’s lungs suddenly began working again. “The other half was reserved for you tipping over that bowl of salad dressing.”

  “You made me waste an entire bottle of Ranch,” she groaned. Her smile grew as she tugged him to his feet and hugged him. “I’m sorry I panicked,” she whispered as he held her tightly for one long quiet moment.

  He pulled back, nose wrinkling. “I’m sorry I announced it in front of my brother and his wife and didn’t save it for a romantic, candlelit dinner or something.”

  Rachel opened her mouth, but her words were interrupted by a knock.

  Becca poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but”—she revealed a large plate full of ravioli with a flourish—“ravioli are here!”

  Rachel pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’d take a thousand real moments with you over one fancy candlelit dinner.”

  Devon sent him a questioning look, mouthed, “Is it okay?”

  Bas nodded and his heart was full as they all gathered around the table at the front of the box and sat down to stuff their mouths.

  Oh, and to watch the Gold trounce their opponents, there was that, too.

  “For the record,” Rachel whispered after they’d demolished the pasta and chatted and thoroughly joked around. “First, your brother and Becca are amazing.”

  He touched her cheek, kissed the tip of her nose. “And the second?”

  She spoke to the group. “That ravioli is the shit.”

  They all cracked up and Bas couldn’t help feeling that this was one of the best nights of his life.

  Especially when Rachel reached laughing lips up to his ear to murmur, “Number three is that . . . I love you, too.”

  Yup.

  Best night ever.

  TWENTY-ONE

  RACHEL

  * * *

  RACHEL AND SEBASTIAN said goodnight to Devon and Becca then caught an Uber to Bas’s apartment, since it was closer.

  She waited until they were through the door and the panel locked behind them before she announced, “I have something to tell you.”

  He froze, a slice of doubt crossing his face.

  Damn. She’d meant it as a playful tease, not to make him feel insecure.

  “Did I—”

  Acting quickly before he could hop completely aboard the unsure train, Rachel reached for the hem of her Gold jersey and yanked it up and over her head.

  “Rach—?”

  Her long-sleeved tee followed, leaving her in only her bra.

  The very sexy amethyst bra Sebastian had bought her.

  She flicked open the button on her jeans, undid the zipper, and pushed them down, stepping out of them and her shoes at the same time.

  He made a noise that sounded as if he’d swallowed his tongue.

  Rachel slowly turned in a circle. “This is what I wanted to tell you,” she said. “Or rather, show you.”

  His face was a study of lines—two brows slashing down and together, a pair of lips pressed flat, a jaw clenched tightly—and she would have almost said that he was angry if not for the heat in his eyes.

  Storm-ravaged eyes slid down her body. Back up. Heat prickled everywhere that gaze traveled and . . . since it traveled pretty much everywhere, she suddenly felt as though she had been dropped inside a boiling pot and was roasting from the inside out.

  She took a step toward him, but he extended a hand, one palm out.

  “Turn around again?”

  It was a rasping plea and one she couldn’t have resisted obeying even if she’d tried.

  Slowly, she spun in one more circle.

  Bas’s hands were clenched tightly into fists when she faced him again. “I don’t care how much it will cost me, but you’re never wearing anything else.”

  She laughed. “A G-string might not go over too well in the office.”

  “I disagree.” A smirk. “I know I would be a hell of a lot more productive if I knew you were waiting for me.”

  “I am waiting for you,” she challenged.

  “There’s waiting,” he said. “And there’s anticipation.”

  “I’ve anticipated this for weeks now,” she murmured then reached up and unhooked her bra. It landed almost soundlessly on the floor.

  His eyes went somehow hotter.

  “How’s that for anticipation?”

  A slow, heated smile before he curled a finger in her direction. “Come here.”

  She took a step back. “No. I think I should torture you like you’ve been torturing me. Let’s take it slow, Rachel,” she mimicked. “We have all the time in the world and meanwhile, I’m dripping wet and—oof!”

  Bas swept her up into his arms. His lips collided with hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth, tangling with hers. Approximately two heartbeats or maybe two minutes or hell, she didn’t know, the man kissed her so senseless that it could have been two hours before her back was pressed against his mattress.

  “Now what was that about wet?” he asked, fingers sliding under the waistband of her underwear and between her thighs.

  She moaned when he brushed her clit, hardly noticed when he tugged her underwear down her legs and off. But she certainly did notice when he bent and gave her the hottest kiss of her life.

  And not on her mouth.

  His tongue flicked over her, settling into a rhythm that quickly had her writhing and begging for . . . what? More? Yes. But the finger he slipped inside wasn’t enough.

  She wanted Bas, hot and hard and deep inside her.

  “Please,” she gasped then groaned when he did something with his tongue that made her toes curl and slid another finger inside. Suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about the empty, aching feeling, but rather, was concentrating on the pleasure spiraling from her center and moving outward, tightening all her muscles, tilting her head back toward the ceiling.

  Sweat beaded on her skin, heat coiling in her scalp, her breasts, her—

  He nipped her, a little rough but she’d needed rough, needed something intense enough to burst through the sensations engulfing her, needed something to focus all that pleasure to a single pinprick so that it . . . would . . .

  Explode.

  “Fuck!” she cried and bucked hard. Bas held her in place, licking and kissing her through the peak and down the other side.

  And then she just lay there, chest heaving, limbs completely limp.

  It wasn’t just from the pleasure either. Because, yes, that was fan-fucking-tastic, but Rachel somehow felt both completely shattered and totally intact. Almost as though Bas had taken her apart piece by piece and then carefully glued her back together again.

  But she wasn’t Humpty Dumpty, damaged and more fragile than before.

  Bas had made her stronger.

  She didn’t even realize that she’d started crying until he crawled up next to her and tugged her into his arms. Rachel burrowed herself into his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not you.” A sniff. “Well, I guess it is you—”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Since you came apart on my tongue, I’m going to assume that those were screams of pleasure, not pain.”

  She snorted. “Considering I was using your hair as handles to grind myself against your mouth, I’d say that was a safe bet.” Her eyes slid closed, but not before she saw him smile. “I love you, Bas,” she said softly. “And I guess just feeling that, knowing that you’re in it with me, makes everything so much better.”

  Fingers on her nape, her cheekbone, her jaw. “I like that everything is better.”<
br />
  “Me, too. But”—her hand slid down—“I think I can save the talking for later, don’t you think? I have a little problem to take care of.”

  He groaned and thrusted into her hand as she gripped him. “Fuck, baby.” A beat. “I think, normally, I’d be insulted by the term little, but if you’re going to stroke me like that, you can call me whatever you want.”

  Rachel followed the path of her hand, loving the way he jerked and cursed as she took his cock in her mouth.

  “Sweetheart.”

  “Mmm.” Her tongue traced the underside of his erection.

  He hissed. “Baby.”

  She sucked him deep into the back of her throat and matched the strokes of her tongue to those of her hand.

  For all of five seconds.

  “Oof!” she said again, but before another outrage noise could escape her, or hell, before she could crawl back down Sebastian’s body and continue sucking him like her favorite lollipop, he’d reached over her to grab a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on.

  “Please say you’re with me,” he gritted out.

  Her only answer was to wrap her legs around his waist and tug him down.

  He pushed home, and, fuck, but that was the absolute best feeling in the world.

  “You good?” he asked.

  “Stop worrying,” she said. “Just love me, Bas. Love me with everything you have.”

  He bent, brushed his lips to hers. “Always, sweetheart.”

  And then he moved, stroking in and out, bringing them both higher and higher until they crashed over the peak and tumbled into orgasm.

  They were lying together afterward, limbs tangled, sweat dampening their skin, breaths in rapid gasps, when he rotated his head to face her.

  Lips curved he said, “I am man, hear me roar. I’m so glad I’ve found the right part-ner.”

  She burst into laughter.

  Somehow, she’d just been fucked into near oblivion, was lying in bed with the man who brought her there, and she was laughing.

  Laughing.

  “God, I love you,” she said and kissed him, a long, slow, joyful kiss that filled her cells with champagne—bubbling, hopeful, and effervescent.

  Perfect. Bas was absolutely, imperfectly, perfect for her.

  TWENTY-TWO

  SEBASTIAN

  * * *

  MONDAY.

  And it had been a Monday.

  Clay and Heather were back from their working honeymoon, which meant that employees at Steele Technologies, and presumably RoboTech as well, were running around like crazy, readying and attempting to implement all of the ideas the bosses had brainstormed on their trip.

  Rachel had texted him earlier in the day saying that she was banning Heather from any form of vacation for the foreseeable future.

  No more time off. Nope. No way. No how.

  He sent back:

  Bad over there?

  The worst. Heather has BIG ideas.

  Bas had grinned.

  They’re probably really good big ideas.

  Yes. Yes, they are. Which makes this even worse.

  Considering that Clay had been on a similar warpath that morning, Bas could sympathize. He also knew how to make things better for Rachel.

  Tonight. My place. Documentary on WWII, takeout, and pajamas.

  Throw in a glass of wine and I’m in.

  He’d agreed, of course, having already stocked his cupboards with Rachel’s preferred brand. This was the woman he loved, and he wanted her to have everything she could possibly want.

  Thankfully, he had that evening to look forward to when Clay strolled into his office mid-morning and dropped another project on his lap.

  It was the type of project Bas had been dying to sink his teeth into.

  But also one he didn’t think he could do properly. Not with everything else already on his plate.

  “Before you give me that look,” his boss said. “Check the file underneath.”

  Bas flipped open the folder. “Uhh.” He stared at the stack of papers, started flipping through one resume after another. “Either you’re trying to fire me”—his gaze flashed up—“or . . .”

  Clay’s mouth quirked. “It’s the or,” he said. “I’d like you to hire your replacement so you can take on a new job title. You’ll find the proposal for that in the file below.” He sat in the chair in front of Bas’s desk, leaned back, and crossed his legs at his ankles. “You’re wasted as my assistant, have been for a long time, and I’ll admit that I’m not looking forward to losing you in that role. You’ve been the best I’ve ever had.”

  “I—” Bas shook his head as he stared at the proposal. VP of Acquisitions. “I’m not sure I have the qualifications for—”

  “Sebastian,” Clay said, putting up a palm. “You’ve been streamlining the projects Steele pursues for months now. Think of it this way, I want to take the rest of the job—flights, schedule, email filtering—off your hands so you can focus on that.”

  Put it that way.

  “You sure that—?”

  Clay narrowed his eyes. “My future VP of Acquisitions wouldn’t finish that question.”

  Noted.

  Bas nodded.

  “Good,” Clay said and stood. “These are the rejects from when I hired you. One of them might be able to live up to your standards, or we might have to start from scratch.” He turned for the door. “I’ll trust your judgment on that.”

  Bas rose to his feet. “I’ll narrow it down to a couple of candidates then bring you in on the final decision.”

  Clay paused on the threshold. “And that right there.”

  Bas frowned, waited for his boss to finish the sentence. When he didn’t, Bas asked, “What’s right there?”

  “Why you won’t just stop at VP.”

  With that, Clay left Bas standing there, mouth gaped open like a fish.

  He slumped down into his chair, heart pounding, excitement racing through every nerve. Holy shit, this was actually going to happen. Picking up his cell, he texted Rachel.

  I have something awesome to tell you.

  When she didn’t reply back within a few minutes, as was typical, he settled down to work his way through the stack of résumés. She was probably in a meeting or bogged down with Heather’s grand ideas.

  So, he pushed his cell to the side and got started on Clay’s grand idea.

  “Hey.”

  The female voice startled him, and he glanced up from the papers to see Kelsey standing at his office door.

  His eyes flicked to his phone, saw that several hours had passed and that it was nearly lunchtime. A blip of unease settled in his stomach when he saw that Rachel still hadn’t texted back.

  But then Kelsey was striding into the room. “Come on, little bro,” she snapped. “At least act like you’re happy to see me.”

  Bas stood and crossed the room, phone in hand. “I am happy to see you,” he said. “Sorry, it’s just that Rachel . . .”

  When he trailed off, she asked. “Rachel, what? Oh, no. Don’t tell me you two broke up. I really like her and would hate to disown you.” She grinned. “Because I would definitely choose her over you.”

  In the past, those words would have probably hurt him.

  Today, he took them as intended: as a joke and nothing more.

  “Hilarious,” he deadpanned. His stomach churned, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Rachel had never gone this long without at least sending him a quick text saying she’d be out of touch.

  Kelsey took one look at his face. “It was a joke,” she said. “You know that, right?”

  Bas pulled her into a hug. “Reading that loud and clear.” He frowned. “I just—hang on a second, okay?”

  He sent Rachel another text.

  Sweetheart, all good?

  No reply.

  He shook it off. Rachel was probably in a meeting.

  “Sorry,” he told Kelsey. “It’s silly, but I haven’t heard from R
achel all morning and—”

  “What?” she asked softly. “You’re not exactly the clingy type, Sebastian, so I’m guessing there’s another part to this story?”

  “Her ex-husband is a . . .”

  “Tool?” Kelsey supplied.

  “Times that by about a million,” he said, not wanting to reveal what the sick son-of-a-bitch had done to Rachel. That was her business. But he also wasn’t about to minimize what Preston had done. “He—” Bas shook his head. “It’s much better for her to not be with him.”

  Kelsey, apparently, read between the lines. “Is he dangerous?”

  “To Rachel? Yes,” he said. “But last we heard, he was still living in Iowa and she has a restraining order.”

  “Hm.” Kelsey frowned. “Those don’t always work, you know.”

  Bas glared at her.

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “I’ll give her a little more time. Her boss just got back from a business trip, so she’s probably bogged down.”

  Kelsey nodded. “You’re probably right,” she agreed. “I didn’t mean to bug you at work,” she said as he stared at his phone screen. “But I was in town for a conference and wanted to see if you were available to grab lunch.”

  His eyes shot to hers, surprised. “I’d like that,” he said.

  Except the decision to give Rachel more time wasn’t sitting well in his gut.

  “But do you think we can swing by Rachel’s office on the way out? It’s not far.”

  Kelsey clapped him on the shoulder. “You know what, little bro?”

  He walked over to his desk and grabbed his wallet from the drawer, sticking it along with his phone into his pockets. “What?”

  “You’re a good guy.”