Bad Engagement (Billionaire's Club Book 10)

by Elise Faber

  Ann didn’t seem surprised to see him standing in the hall when they knocked and didn’t waste any time in bundling Lacy into her car seat.

  Dave took the infant seat out to their SUV in the driveway and snapped it in place while Ann got the recap, smiled at Jaime, and then disappeared with a wave and a coy, “You two have fun.”

  Then she was gone, looking lightyears happier than at the family dinner on Friday.

  “They seem to have sorted out their trouble,” he said, once the door was closed and their car had driven down the road.

  “Yes,” Kate murmured. “They’ll be okay.”

  “McLeod intuitiveness?” he asked.

  “Maybe stubbornness,” she murmured, and brushing a kiss to his cheek. “You okay, baby?”

  It had been a shitty afternoon and early evening but hearing her call him baby made it better. Same as Kate not getting mad, even though he’d known she’d needed space and patience and that she’d had plans watching Lacy.

  He hadn’t the strength to stay away.

  But she welcomed him in. She’d cooked and fed and held him, and when he’d felt like the events of the afternoon had loosened their stranglehold, he’d managed to set her away from him long enough to do the dishes.

  God, the way she looked at him when he washed a couple of plates.

  Fuck.

  He knew he’d just signed up to do them for the rest of his life, and he somehow didn’t give one damn. Because he loved this woman and it made her happy.

  Now she cuddled close to his side, tugged him back to the couch.

  “Are you ready for your punishment?”

  Jaime blinked. “What?” Were there more dishes to be washed?

  “Your punishment,” she said again and wound her arms around his neck, brought her body flush to his. “You knew I was having a girl’s night and intruded anyway.” A shake of her head. “Tsk. Tsk. So rude.”

  He grinned. “I think you need to consider that I saved the day.”

  One brow arched up. “Oh, really?”

  “Yup,” he said. “You needed my Lacy calming abilities, otherwise you’d still be heating that bottle and eating an apple for dinner.”

  “I’ll have you know that apples are delicious,” she said, lips tipping up at the corners. “And I took an advanced babysitting course in high school. It’s how I was able to pay for my first car.”

  He chuckled. “Impressive.”

  “Yes,” she said. “It is. I was the most sought-after sitter in our neighbor.”

  Jaime ran a finger down her cheek. “So, what you’re saying is that I’m in the presence of greatness?”

  She giggled. “Yup. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Mmm.” He trailed his fingers down her throat, stroked across one collarbone and then the other. “And what should I do with all that greatness?”

  “Take me to bed?”

  His jaw dropped open.

  Her smile took his breath away. “Is that a yes?”

  Fuck yes, it was a yes. Except, what if she was trying to make him feel better because he’d had a terrible day? What if she didn’t really want this? What if she felt pushed into—

  Her hands rested on his shoulders, kneaded lightly.

  “This isn’t a pity offer,” she said. “You have to take your care medicine, same as me.”

  “Kate,” he began. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

  “Have more orgasms?” she interrupted, pressing closer. “Because, I mean, I know I don’t have to have them.” She smiled, and it took his breath away. “But I’d really like to have some, and I’d especially like to have them courtesy of you and not my vibrator.”

  He grinned. “Yeah?”

  She nibbled at her bottom lip.

  He groaned, used his thumb to release it, to soothe over the small hurt. “You know what that does to me, Red.”

  “Tell me.” She ran her hand down his chest, his abs, gripped his waist. “Or better yet, show me.”

  And Jaime forgot about the teasing, the banter, pushed away the tough day, only pausing to mentally tuck the dinner and how she’d held him tight into a safe place in his heart, a place where he would never forget the memory of her arms around him, and then . . . he gave in.

  He closed the distance between their mouths and kissed the woman he loved. One touch, and her lips parted. A heartbeat passed, and their tongues tangled. She moaned, fingers clenching on his waist, nails digging into his skin, sharp bites that made heat scald down his spine, whiskey trail down his throat, warming him from the outside in and the inside out in equal measure.

  She jumped and he scooped her up, coaxing her to wrap her legs around him, breaking apart only long enough to ask, “Bedroom?”

  A slow, sexy smile that turned his cock to granite.

  “Up the stairs. Second door on the left. But I can wa—” She broke off on a moan when he nipped at her lip, when he kissed and sucked his way down her throat. Then he got his ass in gear, carrying this wonderful woman upstairs, down the hall, through the door, and dropping her onto the mattress.

  He stopped only to step out of his shoes, to tug hers off her feet, but that was long enough to notice the bedspread. A grin stretched his lips. “Purple.”

  “Told you it’s my favorite.”

  “Guess you weren’t lying.”

  She crooked a finger, beckoning him closer when all he wanted to do was look his fill of this sexy woman before stripping her bare. But . . . he knew he had no hope of denying her anything, and so Jaime closed the distance between them, crawling up the mattress, reveling in how fucking good it felt to have her beneath him.

  “What is it, Red?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her throat, her jaw, the space behind her ear.

  Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his ear and whispered. “I have purple other places, too.”

  Desire burned a trail down his spine, made his cock somehow get even harder.

  But all he said was, “Yeah?”

  A leg around his hip, a gorgeous smile on that kissable mouth. She took his hand, pressed it to her breast. “Yes.” Slid it down the soft curves of her stomach, stopped just above the button of her jeans. “And yes.”

  His vision hazed, his fingers flicked open the button, then paused. “You sure, Red?”

  “God, I like you,” she said.

  “Kate, I like you, too,” he said. “In fact, I lo—”

  Then she kissed him, cutting off his sentence. Which was probably for the best, because he knew he needed to remember that patience, knew they’d made big steps, and he didn’t want to fuck it up.

  Breaking away when his lungs screamed for air, he reached for her, but she batted his hand away, grabbed the hem of her sweater and shimmied it up and over her head,

  And . . . Jaime had no words.

  She was pale skin and amethyst lace. She was lithe, feminine curves. She was his every fantasy come to life. Freckles dotted her abdomen, her chest like a complicated roadmap that he was absolutely desperate to taste, to trace with his tongue. He wanted to chart every mark, to worship every inch.

  Then she took his hand and brought it back to the top of her jeans. “Now, baby. Please.”

  There was no denying her anything.

  He undid the zipper.

  “Fuck, Red.” Because there was more purple lace, the softest abrasion against his fingertips, damp heat radiating through the fabric, coating his skin. His mouth watered, remembering the taste.

  They hadn’t had dessert.

  Well, he wanted it now.

  Pushing off of her, he snagged her jeans at her ankles, tugged the fabric off her legs. A quick jerk had her panties going by the wayside, and a heartbeat later, he was between her thighs, that fucking glorious pink pussy an inch away from his tongue.

  He didn’t wait, didn’t tease.

  He licked her up and down, suckled on her clit, exactly as she liked. She’d been wet before he touched her, and the caress of his tongue,
the pressure on the bundle of nerves had her moaning, moisture pooling. She was sweet with a hint of tart and by far the best dessert of his life. But as good as she tasted, he wanted her coming on his mouth, wanted her limp with pleasure, her eyes heavy and hooded.

  So, he got to work.

  One finger circling the entrance to her body, dipping inside, his tongue alternating between circling and pressing firmly. He showed no mercy. Instead, he used what he’d learned the other night and put it to pitiless use.

  Not that she seemed to mind.

  Her fingers wove into his hair, holding his mouth tightly against her as her hips bucked and ground and she rode his face.

  It didn’t take long for her to throw her head back, for her to cry out his name as she broke apart around him, pussy convulsing on his finger, liquid drenching his tongue, every muscle in her body going absolutely tense for one long moment.

  Then she melted.

  Fingers releasing his hair, arms falling limply to the mattress, eyes shut, chest heaving.

  “Damn,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “I didn’t even get to your glorious breasts yet.”

  Her eyes slit open, warm pools of heated whiskey.

  And then she laughed, a hot, breathy sound. “I don’t know if I can handle you getting”—she did a limp attempt of one-handed air quotes—“to my breasts.”

  He kissed her navel, nipped at her hip, her bottom rib, flicked his tongue over the tiny silver charm hanging in the middle of that purple bra. “I think I called them glorious breasts,” he said. “And I’d disagree. I think you can handle anything I dish out.” He slipped his finger under the elastic band, traced left and right, the barest brush to those luscious curves.

  “Wish”—he slid higher, grazed a nipple—“ful thinking.”

  “Mmm.” He sucked one hard point through the lace. “No, Red, it’s not.” He reached beneath her, flicked open the clasp and peeled the fabric away. “I know you can handle anything I throw your way.”

  Her eyes locked with his, her hand came up, fingers lacing through his hair.

  Then she smiled. “I think I can, too.”

  And Jaime felt like fucking Superman.

  He tossed the bra to the side, slanted his lips across hers and poured every ounce of love he had for this woman into the kiss. She was incredible, and he wanted her to know it, to pour her generosity back into her, to touch and hold and please her as she deserved.

  He slid his hand up her side, cupped the soft globe of her breast, massaging the tissue gently before he tore his lips from hers and moved down her body to suckle her nipple deeply.

  Those fingers tightened in his hair, her hips bucked, and she moaned loudly.

  A moment later, however, she was pushing him away.

  “I’m—”

  “Get naked,” she demanded. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

  Jaime paused, considered that, but since he wanted to feel her, too, since he wasn’t opposed to all that silken skin rubbing against him, he obliged, pushing off her, yanking his T-shirt over his head, stepping out of his pants.

  But when he would have left on his boxer briefs, she stopped him with a foot to his chest.

  “No, baby,” she said, reaching over her shoulder and tugging a condom out of the nightstand. “I want all your skin.”

  Sparks of desire prickled down his spine, through his fingertips. He clenched his jaw until it throbbed, grasping for control, but he was desperate to feel some of the molten heat he’d had on his tongue spread out on his cock, coating the skin as he sank deep again and again and again.

  Slow. Steady.

  Her foot dropped. Her fingers wrapped around his cock. She sat up and . . . he felt a different kind of heat. Her lips closed over him, tongue stroking from base to tip.

  And he forgot all about slow and steady.

  He forgot all about anything except how good it felt to be in her mouth.

  She squeezed tight, hand following the path of her tongue. Once. Twice.

  His control splintered. He plucked her off him, tossed her back against the pillows, and he kissed her while stroking every inch of her he could reach. Caressing her breasts, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger, stroking over her waist, her hips, slipping his hand down into the damp heat, teasing her clit until she writhed against him in feminine complaint.

  “Now!” she gasped, pulling her mouth away and grabbing for the condom, all but shoving it against his chest.

  One more stroke of that bundle of nerves. One more breathless moan.

  And he took the condom, tore it open with his teeth, rolled it down the length of his cock. He shifted, positioned himself over her, and then stopped, met those gorgeous whiskey eyes. “Yes?”

  Her face went soft. Her arms wrapped around him and she pulled him closer. “Yes, baby.”

  Jaime slid home.

  Nothing had ever felt more right. He pushed in, bottoming out, feeling her clench tight around him, and he knew there would never be anyone else. That this woman had been built solely for him and he solely for her.

  He pulled out slowly and moved back in, finding the rhythm she liked, gauging every moan and movement and flicker in those warm eyes.

  He used that knowledge ruthlessly, not stopping until her breathing faltered again, until her fingers clenched, and her hips met his stroke for stroke. And still he moved, disciplined in that rhythm, needing to feel her break apart around him so that he could gather up the pieces and glue them back together.

  Her head fell back, her legs convulsed, a moan rent the air.

  Jaime lost his discipline. He lost everything except the feelings of the moment, of moving in and out, of tight and hot, of Kate wrapped around every inch of him.

  Fire licked over his skin.

  Desire pooled in his stomach.

  His muscles clenched. His nerves were ablaze.

  One thrust. Another. He exploded.

  Pieces of him scattered every which way, but she was there. She held them tight as he flew right over the edge and shattered into a million shards.

  And she caught every piece.

  Eighteen

  Kate

  Her friends were glaring at her.

  But she found she couldn’t find the energy to care. Not when she had the gloriousness of last night under her belt . . . or rather in her—

  “Always the quiet ones,” Heidi said with a smirk.

  Kate blushed and quickly shoved away all thoughts of how in Jaime had been.

  Cora nudged Kelsey with her elbow. “Put down your phone and ignore Tanner’s lovey-dovey texts. I know he’s awesome and you guys are in luuuuv, but give us single girls a break, mm’kay?”

  Kels rolled her eyes but shoved her phone into her pocket. “I was actually texting Angie. She was going to come tonight, but apparently her paper writing isn’t going well.”

  Heidi made a face. “You know she likes those hockey girls better than us.”

  Kelsey chuckled. “She likes us fine,” she said about their friend who was married to the professional hockey player Max Montgomery and who worked with Kels at RoboTech. Angie had gone back to school to get her master’s degree and while she didn’t hang out as often as the core group of the four of them, hadn’t gelled instantly like she and Heidi and Kels and Cora, Angie was fun and likable and popped in often enough that Kate considered her one of hers. “But it is probably easier for her to hang with the Gold hockey peeps. They’re all on the same schedule and”—Kels’s eyes narrowed onto Kate’s—“there are no fake engagements.”

  Kate gulped. “It’s not like that.”

  Heidi rolled her eyes. “It’s exactly like that.”

  “Fine,” she muttered. “It’s like that a little bit.” She held her finger and thumb up just slightly.

  “Are you or are you not engaged?” Kelsey pressed.

  It was Kate’s turn to make a face. “I am not.”

  “Why is this giving me Pride and Pr
ejudice vibes?” Cora asked. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh comes in and demands to know the status of your engagement to the prideful Mr. Darcy.” Cora fluttered her eyelashes, pretending to swoon back onto the couch. “And our heroine lifts her chin, says in a firm voice, I am not.”

  “Dork.” Heidi punched her lightly in the shoulder.

  “Yup.” A shrug. “So, what?”

  “Okay,” Kelsey said. “I would really like to get back to the whole reason why Kate felt the need to pretend to be engaged to . . .” Her brows drew together. “To who exactly?”

  Kate bit her lip, not wanting to say.

  Her friends wouldn’t judge her. Okay, they would, but it was out of love. Copious amounts of teasing and a smidge of judgment. But it came less from her friends’ being jerks and more from them wanting the best for her.

  Which meant that she understood their reticence with the whole fake engagement thing.

  Typically, perpetuating a giant lie to her family with some fantasy guy she’d been lusting over on Instagram wasn’t the most ideal start to a relationship.

  But . . . it wasn’t like that.

  Not that she had the chance to explain how exactly it wasn’t like that because Heidi took it upon herself to chime in.

  “JaimeTheVet,” she chirped.

  Cora gasped. “With the man bun?”

  Kate shook her head. “He cut it off because he was worried my parents wouldn’t like it.” She shrugged, lips twitching when Kels and Cora gasped. “Then he said he’d been meaning to get around for a haircut but was too busy.”

  Cora moaned. “But that hair.” She jokingly swooned again. “So many guys with long hair look gross, like the strands are greasy and tangled and—” She shuddered. “JaimeTheVet’s was . . .”

  “Glorious,” Kels said, “and I hate everything about man buns simply on principle.”

  Heidi nudged her. “Or maybe it’s because you’re hopeless at doing hair?”

  Kels wrinkled her nose. “Maybe that, too.” She turned back, pinned Kate in place with a stern look. “But that doesn’t explain why. Why pretend? You’re a smart, capable woman who could easily date someone for real and—”

  “My mom was going to set me up again.” Kate sighed. “And I tried to put her off, but you know about how well that works.” She rolled her eyes, shook her head. Her mom was a force unto herself, and while Kate loved her, of course, sometimes doing battle with her felt like standing in front of an oncoming train and trying to deviate it from its tracks.