After walking to the dresser, he pulled out a condom. She opened her arms to him, welcoming him. That enthusiasm was the best thing he’d seen in…well…maybe ever.
Ignoring her open arms, he climbed onto the bed at the bottom, starting at her feet. Slowly, he lifted her ankle to his chest, locking eyes with her. She swallowed, shivering as his fingers brushed the skin above her ankle.
Dragging the edge of his nail over her skin, he relished the way she tried to move closer to him. He held her foot in place, lowering it to his lap as he skimmed his fingers over her calf, behind her knee, and back to her bare foot before doing the same to her other leg.
By the time he finished exploring her calf, she breathed quickly, and her body language spoke of an impatience he had no intention of listening to. As he moved up her body, his fingers followed, touching everywhere they could as they slid under her pencil skirt. Every sigh, every little noise she made, begged him for more, but he held back. This would be memorable, dammit.
Lowering her skirt, he was immediately rewarded with more skin. She was so flawlessly smooth, so tantalizing and soft. He slipped between her thighs, his fingers tracing a path he had every intention of following with his mouth. Over her calf, around her knee, up her inner thigh. He traced her lines through her panties, gently touching her core, and she moaned, letting her knees fall open in an unspoken invitation.
When he slid his hands under her shirt to lift it out of his way, she let out a low groan of frustration. “Taylor—”
“Nothing you say or do will make me do this any faster,” he said, his tone even and steady despite the need coursing through his veins. “I don’t rush. I don’t lose control. I take my time.”
To lose control was a weakness.
She bit her lower lip. “But—”
“No buts.” He caught her chin. “I never let myself forget what I’m doing in bed, and today I’m blowing your fucking mind. I’ll take my time, go slow, and by the time I’m buried inside you, you’ll thank me for not losing my cool. Trust me.”
A soft whimper escaped her when he slid her shirt over her head.
Her hard nipples fought against the confines of her sheer bra. The desire to forget his game plan was strong, but he ignored it because he never veered off course. Instead, he skimmed his fingers over her rib cage, undoing the clasp of her bra with a flick of his wrist.
As he caressed her skin, he gently lowered the straps of her bra over her shoulders and arms. Her back arched as he dropped it on the floor with the rest of their clothing. She was so beautifully curvy, his Sam. Flawless in every way.
Time for him to get a taste of perfection.
He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, closing his eyes and savoring her taste as she moaned and wrapped her arms around him. A warmth filled his chest, one he’d never known before.
Sliding between her thighs, he pressed himself against the only barrier that stood between him and paradise—her black panties, which he’d carefully left in place. She spread her thighs, letting him in as he kissed a path down her collarbone and back up to her other shoulder, taking a second to skim his fingers over the curve of her breast.
She moaned, writhing beneath him. “Taylor.”
His name on her lips, all breathless and wanting, fucking killed him. His body shook for a second, and for the first time he almost lost hold of the control he took such pride in. Slowly, torturously, he nipped the skin above her rosy pink nipple and lowered his mouth over the hard bud, scraping his teeth against it as he sucked it into his mouth. She cried out, squeezing him with her legs, and he stiffened as she tried to close her thighs around him.
Firmly, he gripped her legs and kept them where they belonged. As he released her nipple, he slid to the other side, leaving love bites along the way as he placed his hand between her legs.
Her breath hitched in her throat as his fingers moved in hard, fast circles over her core, lowering his body over hers as he went. A kiss here. A nip there. A scrape of the teeth above her belly button. Every sound that escaped her urged him on because she kept getting louder with each one. “Taylor,” she moaned, burying her fingers in his hair and tugging him south.
Obligingly, he slid lower, her soft skin against his more intoxicating than anything he’d ever encountered. He lowered them down her legs and licked the spot to ease any pain he might have caused. She bit her lip as he scraped his teeth over her, moaning in pleasure. Her reactions called to him in ways he didn’t fully understand and didn’t really want to. Every sigh, every silent bite of her lip or tongue, only made him need more.
Kneeling between her thighs, he took a second to enjoy her feminine hips, large breasts, swollen lips, rosy cheeks, and hard nipples. The rosy lips between her thighs were wet and waiting for him. Needing to touch, taste, feel every inch of her, he thrust his tongue inside her folds.
“Taylor,” she cried, pumping her hips up desperately.
Her body strained toward his, and his cock throbbed with a demand he could no longer deny. The tingling skin, the pulled nerves, the aching need in the bottom of his stomach…
There was nothing else like it.
Her body tightened around him, and she cried out as she came. He slid his hands under her ass and pressed his face even closer to her, lashing his tongue against her sensitive core.
She let out a strangled scream as she came again, her whole body going limp in his arms. This time he let her drop down to the mattress, her body replete. He grabbed a condom and rolled it into place. It took a couple of tries, since his damn hand was trembling too much.
Pull yourself together, man.
Gritting his teeth, he positioned himself in between her legs, her smooth, endless skin touching his in all the right places. Claiming her mouth as his, he buried himself inside her in one hard, smooth thrust. She cried out into his mouth, closing her legs around his hips as her body tightened around his cock, convulsing, squeezing as she orgasmed again.
He moved inside her slowly, for once in his life not counting the measure of his strokes or the breaths she held. He lost himself in the touch of Sam, her body closing around his, and he just…just…
Groaning, he closed his eyes, her hands roaming as he moved inside her, something happening to him he didn’t fully understand and didn’t really care to. All that mattered was this, Sam, and him…together like they’d been meant to be. When she came again, her body trembling, he pressed his thumb against her and deepened his strokes, his mouth never leaving hers as he led her up that mountain one more time…then held her as she dropped.
Her walls squeezed his hard cock, and he called out her name as blinding pleasure hit him so hard he literally collapsed on top of her, unable to see or move or breathe or think. He lay there with her naked body under his, his hold on her tight as he tried to catch his breath. With Sam, every stroke, every kiss, no matter how well planned out it might be, had been…different. Special.
Whatever the hell that meant.
Needing some space to think, he pushed off her abruptly and walked away, not looking over his shoulder as he kicked the bathroom door shut with the heel of his bare foot. Alone, he stared at himself in the mirror, dragging his hands down his face until they fell at his sides. Why had she hit him so hard, so fast? He’d lost control out there.
It couldn’t happen again.
Chapter Eleven
“You can read that menu a million times, but Thai food won’t magically appear for you,” Sam said, grinning because he was so clearly off put by the fact that they’d broken from his routine, even though he’d been the one to suggest they go out to eat in the first place and insisted she pick the place. It wasn’t until they’d arrived that she found out Wednesday nights were his Thai nights.
He set the menu down with a dramatic sigh for the third time. It was endearing, how set in his routines he was. Almost as endearing as his commitment to making her scream his name every night she’d been in his place—which had been three nights now.
> Best three nights ever.
It was outrageous that she was basically living at his place, but what was even more shocking was the fact that she didn’t want to leave yet. And he didn’t seem inclined to kick her out, either.
She suspected he hadn’t expected it to take this long, and to be honest, neither had she. She still wanted him, and, if anything, that desire had only strengthened with time. It was all his fault for being so frigging good in bed.
When would it go away?
Even while he was blowing her mind, he had his routines, and he stuck to them. He had probably never fully given himself over to someone else in bed. He liked being in full control too much for that. Despite her assurance that she wasn’t the type of girl who would mess with his routines in the short time she would be in his life, this was one she really wanted to try to challenge. Once…just once…
She’d like to be in charge of that work of art he called a body. If given the chance, she’d climb on top of him, tie his wrists with satin, and have her way with him however and wherever she’d like. But he’d never allow it.
It wasn’t his style.
Which was ironic, because giving herself over to a man wasn’t her style, yet here she was, submitting to his every whim, unable to get enough of him. She never should’ve let him in, because some small part inside her was terrified she’d never completely get him out.
“I told you, I’m fine breaking from my usual routine,” he muttered, tugging on his tie impatiently. He scanned the restaurant for the waiter, his jaw tense. “Are you ready to order?”
She picked up her menu, her mind still firmly on him tied up naked in his bed, at her full disposal. “Almost. I’m thinking maybe pancakes and bacon.”
“But that’s breakfast,” he said, staring at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“And this diner serves breakfast all day. It’s why I picked it.”
He continued to stare at her as if she had a worm crawling out of her nose. Something told her he’d find that easier to accept than her dinner order. “Because you wanted breakfast. For dinner,” he said flatly.
She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning.
He was too frigging funny. He tried so hard to appear to be laid-back and chill, but he couldn’t fool her. Not anymore.
Shaking his head, he picked up his menu again.
“Still no Thai,” she said, guilt starting to overshadow her amusement at his displacement. Maybe they should just go—
“I’ll do an omelet with home fries.”
She blinked. “Oh yeah?”
“Yep. And hot chocolate with a lot of whipped cream.”
He settled back against the red plastic booth with contentment written all over his face, as if he’d accomplished something huge. His childlike satisfaction tugged at heartstrings he had no right touching, so she focused on anything but him. Everything about this diner screamed the 1950s, but it probably wasn’t actually that old.
“What are you getting?” he asked, shifting his weight slightly as he tugged at his sleeves.
“I’m not sure now.” She pursed her lips. “Your order sounds pretty delicious.”
A cocky brow rose. He always did that, and it should have annoyed her, that brow, but it made her heart race and her legs tremble, and she wanted to kiss him. Ugh. “It will be.”
Her phone buzzed, and Sam pulled it out.
It was a text from her best friend, Izzy. Vegas was a disaster. Will explain when back. Decided to take some time to myself.
Frowning, she quickly typed: Wait, what? Are you okay? CALL ME.
Not now, I need time. No marriage, I’m still single, and I decided to stay in Vegas a few days. I’m okay, promise.
Sam hesitated. She was glad Izzy didn’t marry the prick but upset her friend had been hurt. But are you sure you’re okay?
Izzy sent a pic of herself sitting at a table in front of a fake Eiffel Tower, holding a drink and with a hot guy at her side also smiling. I’m great.
“Damn,” Sam muttered, grinning. Call me tonight, she typed quickly.
“Everything okay?” Taylor asked cautiously.
“Yeah, it’s my best friend. She went to Vegas to get married, but instead picked up this dude,” she said, showing him the photo.
He nodded. “The one whose brother you were supposed to save?”
“None other,” she agreed.
“I’m glad you were wrong that night,” he said quietly.
She smiled at him. “Me, too. He wasn’t, though.”
Taylor laughed.
The waiter came, and they ordered their meals.
When Taylor gave his drink order, Sam smiled and said, “Same. Extra heavy on the whipped cream, please.”
Once they were alone, he nudged her with his foot under the booth. “Copycat.”
She shrugged. “I’m all right with that.”
He laid his paper napkin on his lap and set his silverware on the placemat carefully. Despite the size of his bank account, he seemed just as at home in a Mom and Pop diner as a five-star restaurant. No matter where they went and what they did, he managed to keep his cool.
“How was work today?” he asked politely, giving her his full attention now that his silverware was in order. “Busy?”
“Very.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I met with someone who is on the verge of losing everything and came up with a feasible solution to save it all with my boss.”
He frowned. “What did you—?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m not telling secrets to the enemy.”
For a second, he looked offended. “I’m not the enemy.”
She snorted.
He avoided her gaze, straightening his napkin in his lap.
They fell into an awkward silence.
She picked up her napkin and silverware, regretting her words already. Sure, she was a bit biased, considering her past and her profession, but he wasn’t a bad guy. In all honesty, he might be one of the nicest men she knew…
When he wasn’t making her laugh until she cried or being so ridiculous she worried she might cause permanent eye damage from rolling her eyes too much, he was making her scream out his name in bed or saying things that were so beautifully sweet that he literally stole her breath away. He had an annoyingly persistent habit of doing that.
If she wasn’t careful, she might die.
Then again…there were worse ways to go.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked, breaking the tension.
He lifted his head, pinning her down with one of his intense stares. “Only if I get the same right, of equal or lesser value.”
There he went again, turning a simple conversation into a business deal. “Fair enough,” she allowed.
He inclined his head. “Go on.”
“When did you set your routines? Like…with the food and stuff?” She tapped her fingers on her right thigh. “Was your childhood so set in stone?”
He shook his head. “My mother worked two jobs, sometimes three, and a different person watched us every night until I was old enough to take care of myself. None of them could cook anything besides spaghetti, and we never had anything exciting to eat unless it was the discount meat at the store that was about to expire. Even that was a rare treat saved for special occasions like birthdays or holidays. The pickings were slim and boring, but it was all I had, even through college.”
She swallowed, the contrast between their childhoods slapping her in the face. Up until her senior year in high school, she’d had a personal chef who made her whatever she wanted at any hour of the night, even if Sam woke her up at midnight because she was hungry—something she was ashamed to admit she had done on a frequent basis.
Back then, she’d been spoiled rotten, and it had shown.
“So after college, I had money in my account and endless possibilities at my fingertips. It was—too much for a kid who had never had much of anything in his life at all. Overwhelming, even
.”
Nodding, she leaned closer. “So you came up with a system…”
“And stuck with it.” He shrugged. “It works for me.”
“Yeah. I get that.”
The waiter brought their hot chocolates, and she skimmed the diner as he set them down carefully. There was a family of four a few booths over, and the children stared at their hot chocolates with wistful eyes. Sam had seen it enough to recognize it on sight. She waved at the youngest girl, and the child quickly turned away, picking up her water.
They all had water.
Water was free, after all, and kept a night out at a diner reasonable.
“Excuse me,” she said, catching the waiter’s attention as he walked away.
He came back immediately. “Yes?”
“That table over there with the family?” she said, pulling her card out.
The waiter nodded.
“Bring them all ice cream sundaes of their choice, and hot chocolates, if they’d like. Then charge those items and the rest of their bill to this card, please.” She’d been paid and eating a few meals at Taylor’s place—which he refused to allow her to pay for—so she might as well pay it forward. “Don’t tell them I did it, though.”
He took the card, smiling. “Of course.”
As he left, she turned back to Taylor, almost forgetting he was there. He stared at her with a look in his eye that trapped her breath in her throat, choking her.
“What?” she asked, fisting her hands in her lap.
He turned away, shaking his head. “Nothing. It’s just…”
“It’s just, what?”
“You’re so fucking beautiful, inside and out, and to be honest, sometimes I don’t know what to do with that.” He flexed his jaw. “Or with you. You’re just too good.”
She snorted, her cheeks heating. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice low. “You’re fucking amazing, and somehow you manage to have no clue just how special you are.”
Well, there he went again. Striking her speechless.
Damn him.
An Accidental Date with a Billionaire Page 7
