Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name

by S. Ann Cole

  As I stomped down the hall, a squeal escaped my lips when I was suddenly yanked off into a room and pushed up against a wall. The door slammed, the lock turned, and I was looking up into the exasperated face of Lovello Nelson. His hands were pressed flat against the wall on either side of my head, while the lower half of his body pinned me to the wall. The room was dimly lit, but enough to tell that it was a storage room, as it was packed to the ceiling with lighting fixtures, power fans and background sheets.

  “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I raged at him.

  Lovello’s face was implacable, no humor, no flirt. “Shut. Up. Axia.”

  “Don’t you dare —”

  “I’m going to tell you this just once: I don’t play the sharing game. I share nothing at all. Therefore, you’re going to cut it off with whatever clown you’re running around with or leading on. Because I’m interested in you now. And I won’t tolerate any other man touching you, calling you or sending you gifts. Do you understand?”

  Was this man serious? Maybe he was deluded. He must be. Who the hell did he think he was? “No. I don’t understand. I think you need to see a psychiatrist. You’re giving orders to the wrong woman, Pretty Boy. It seems whoever is giving you a daily report on me forgot to tell you that.”

  Lovello revealed a sly grin. “Oh, they did. And I’ve heeded, stood back, and studied you.” He brought his hand down to my cheek, brushing his knuckles against it, and I automatically leaned into his touch, like magnet to steel. “What do you think I’ve been doing all week, Axia? Staying away because you asked me to?”

  His thumb passed over my lower lip, and I parted them, exhaling hitched breath on his fingers. Though I wanted him to stop, I couldn’t help myself when he touched me. “No, sweet girl. I wasn’t. For the past week, I’ve been going over and over the details of that Friday when we spent those few wonderful hours together. Trying to find some clue to you; to your weakness. I refused to come close to you again until I did.” His fingers traveled under my chin and tipped up my face so I could look at him. “I’m here now. So you can guess I’ve found my answer.”

  I could only gaze back into his grays that were now like melted steel, and into me he poured all that heat and steam. My body was so hot beneath my robe, I felt I would combust. Words remained elusive.

  “You want to know what that is, Axia? Your weakness to me? The one thing you can’t resist?”

  My eyes shuttered down at the caressing of his warm minty breath against my lips. “W-What?”

  Pretty Boy Nelson brought his hands to cup my face, pressed his forehead against mine, then whispered, “My touch.”

  A whimper escaped me at the verity of his words. Oh sweet Lord, I was doomed. “That’s not true.”

  “You know it is,” he breathed, before slipping his tongue inside my mouth.

  My pushes at his chest were lame and half-hearted, because seconds later I was returning his kiss and that made him groan. His sweet tongue explored the depths and crevices of my mouth, gliding over the ridges of my teeth, pulling on my lips with small tugs, chasing my tongue with his. I relaxed into it, resisting the urge to grip his neck and pull him into one of my usually aggressive kisses. An aggressive kiss wasn’t what I wanted from him, surprisingly. The gentleness of this kiss, of him, was different. And I loved it …

  Hell, what was I doing? I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t. With every iota of strength I had left, I cleaved away from the kiss and took advantage of his vulnerable state. In swift movements, I switched positions so that he was up against the wall with me against him. He started to smile and I slapped his face. Hard. The penetrating connection of skin against skin bounced off the walls in an echo. “Don’t you ever do that again!” I hissed.

  But Lovello didn’t even blink; it was as if he were expecting it. “You kissed me back.”

  Grabbing his chin in a firm grip, I spoke in a tight voice, “Yes. So I did. And you’re a really good kisser, Pretty Boy. But you do that again and I swear to God I’ll…” My words tumbled away when my nipple puckered under the pad of his thumb. I was wearing a tube top and gym shorts, but also had on an ivory silk robe. Yet, his touch penetrated so intensely through the materials.

  “You swear to God you’ll do what, Axia?” His voice was like that of a serpent in my ear.

  “I swear to God that I’ll…” Again, my words drifted away like chaff in the wind when his other hand came up to my breast and squeezed. My hand fell away from his chin and I dropped my face to his chest, my breathing erratic.

  “Tell me to stop.” He pulled the ties of my robe and his hands trespassed inside, traveling up and down my sides before clasping my hips and pulling me hard against him. “Tell me, Axia. Tell me to stop.”

  Power and control were out of my reach. I couldn’t even control my own breathing when he touched me, let alone tell him to stop. I buried my face deeper into his chest, for that was all I could do. He smelled like clean linen and … and … rain. It wasn’t fair that his heart was beating at its usual pace while my heartbeats were all over the place.

  Lovello’s hand slid into the waistband of my shorts. “Aren’t you going to tell me to stop?” His fingers traveled lower down. “You’re going to allow me to touch you there? You’re a naughty, naughty gym teacher, Miss Blacksille.”

  A whimper from me muffled into his chest when his fingers brushed over my mound. “Dios, I…”

  The fiend bent his head and pressed his lips to my ear. “You can’t, can you? You don’t want it, but you can’t tell me to stop. Isn’t it so?”

  A knock sounded on the door, followed by Tish’s voice. “Axia, your food is here. The photographer will resume shooting in forty-five minutes and your hair isn’t done straightening yet.”

  Lovello slipped his hand from my shorts and I raised my head from his chest and strengthened my voice. “Thanks, Tish. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  We listened as Tish’s footsteps traveled down the hall, then I lifted my face to my seducer’s. “Listen, Lovello, I can’t do this with you, okay?”

  “You mean you don’t want to. But guess what, I want to. I want you. So no, it’s not okay. Okay?” He closed my robe and retied it. “Why exactly don’t you want this with me?”

  “Because … I … you don’t … I just can’t!”

  His eyes frosted. “Is it because of that Zane idiot who sent you that lame-ass necklace? Are you in love with him?”

  “How do you know his name?”

  “Because I was standing over you reading the damn card, Axia.” He pushed away from the wall, slightly angered. “And from what I’ve read, you’ve been with him recently.”

  I folded my arms. “And what the hell does that have to do with you, exactly? Do you have it in your head that I’m your woman or something? Because if you do, then you need to get rid of those deluded thoughts, asap!”

  “As a matter of fact, I do…”

  He took a step towards me and I instinctively backed away. No, I couldn’t bear another touch of his. “Don’t touch me, Lovello.”

  He gave a cocky grin. “Why?”

  Oh how I wish I could smack that grin off his face. “Because … it’s repulsive!”

  In a quick dash, I made it to the door and fumbled with the lock, but before I could get it open, Lovello was there right behind me, bracing his length against mine, his lips trailing kisses along my shoulder. “Is it?”

  Slumping myself against the door in patent weakness, I breathed, “Love, please stop. I can’t bear it.”

  “Hell, that sounds so damn good. Call me that from now on instead of ‘Pretty Boy’. Or call me both. I can’t decide which sounds sexier coming from your lips.” He flexed his hips inward, and I felt the rigidity of his erection digging into my back. “Feel that? That’s what you do to me, Axia. Every single thing about you makes me burn. Achingly. Intensely. Unbearably. I burn. For you.” He brought one hand around, slid it under the robe and cupped me. “Hmm, your sex is on fire,�
� he moaned.

  Feebly, I turned around in his embrace and made an involuntary thrust of my hips upward, loving the feel of his hardness now against my stomach. “Please, Love, let me go. They need me out there.”

  “Kiss me first, and then I’ll let you go.”

  “Can’t you jus —”

  “Why argue? Do you want me to just take it, then?”

  Feeling debilitated but at the same time excited for him, I brought my hands around his neck and pulled him into a slow, passionate kiss. Finding unexplainable peace in his arms, I didn’t want to let go. And when he tried to part, I tipped on my toes and kissed him deeper, wanting so much more of him. More than his kiss. More than his touch.

  Lovello pulled away. “They need you out there, remember?” He brushed his thumb over my swollen lips. “I’ll get your cell number from your assistant and phone you after the shoot, okay?”

  “Okay” was all I could say as I pulled out of his embrace, turned the doorknob and walked on numbed legs out of the room.

  VI

  It was minutes after seven when Tish pulled into the Blacksilles’ complex in Bel Air. Instead of staying there with me, she’d opted for spending her next couple of hours in L.A. with some ex-girlfriend of hers. She’d be flying back home in the morning to oversee the gym. I’d left my top trainer, Mike, in charge, but there wasn’t a soul who could handle PSFC better than Tish.

  Halfway around the round-about fountain, which is of an enormous marble statue of a naked woman posing rather provocatively as water gushed about her, Tish halted the jeep and I lethargically slumped out. “Enjoy yourself tonight, Tish. And call me as soon as you land tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Think you need to get some rest, though. You look beat.”

  “Fully intend to. ‘Night.” What did she think I was going to do? Throw a house party?

  As I trudged up the steps of the gray and white colonial-style mansion, I dug around into my bag for my keys, grumbling in frustration when my fingers kept touching everything except the keys. But then the front door swung open, and in its wide frame stood my dear brother, Romaine, smiling down at a petite, young blonde maid I’d never seen before; she must be new. She bit her lip, gazing up at him with dewy eyes as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear speaking to her soft tones.

  Romaine sensed my presence and glanced up, his smile stretching into a grin. “Mi hermana hermosa! You couldn’t have told me you were coming?”

  “Why, sicko? The words ‘I’m coming’ are usually reserved for the man sweating on top of me.”

  The young blonde flicked me a coy glance, and her cheeks reddened as she excused herself. At my unreformable brother, I shook my head in contempt. “Let me guess, Dad’s not home and that pretty blond is new and unaware of your propensity for screwing around with maids?”

  “Shh, smart ass! She hasn’t given it up yet.”

  I laughed. “You seriously need to stop this shit, Romaine.”

  Romaine was like a charming potion. He could charm the thongs off any woman, young or old. For some reason, however, he had a weird predilection for sleeping around with vulnerable and hopeful maids. Don’t ask me why. It was probably his kind of high. His house was just two blocks away from our family home, so he was always on the Blacksilles’ complex whenever he knew our father was out. His own maids never lasted more than three months, and they were always young, pretty and bodacious, as if he hand-picked them.

  With a puff of curly dark hair perpetually bouncing on his shoulders, eyes that were exactly like mine, and the most perfect and whitest dentures I’d ever seen, Romaine was two years older than me, was six feet two and owned the body of a male model. And I loved him more than I loved a cup of Milky Way Malt.

  “The ever-berating Axia. I can’t say I missed that part of you,” he chuckled before lifting me in a bear-hug.

  “Put me down, Romaine!” I squealed. “I’m tired as hell.”

  “You’re tired?” he asked with wide, gleaming eyes that told me he was brewing something devious. “As in, ‘I’ve-been-working-all-day-and-all-I-wanna-do-is-sleep’ tired? Like, ‘I’m-hungry-and-I-need-a-bath-but-I-need-sleep-more’ tired?”

  Shaking my head at the punk, I brushed past him into the house. “Yes, Romaine. That kind of tired. What’s your point?”

  “Then tonight’s my lucky night!” He folded his arms over his chest and stood tall, conveying confidence. “I’m challenging you to an arm-wrestle. One grand.”

  “Ha! You think because I’m tired you’ll have a chance at beating me?”

  “Unless you’re lying about being tired, then yes. I’ve been practicing for your ass, and it’s about time I win back all my money from you. Fifteen hundred.”

  “Hermano, I’m advising you to lay it at rest if you don’t wanna lose any money tonight. Go resume your pursuit of the new blonde and let me be.”

  He snorted. “You’re just chickening out because you know I’ll beat you. Two grand.”

  We entered the kitchen and I dropped my bag on the breakfast bar. “You never learn,” I said, cricking my fingers and flexing my right arm to awaken the muscles. Settling on a bar stool with my elbow down on the counter, I was ready. “Bring your ass over here, estúpido.”

  Romaine smirked and came into position, so sure that tonight would be the night he finally won a challenge. Our elbows kissed as our hands clasped. “Ready?”

  “Always,” he grinned.

  “Do your best, mi hermano.”

  And there we were, all groans and strains, muscles rigid and bulging, hands clasped in the wrestle. Romaine’s proclamation of practicing seemed true, because I never had to put so much energy into a wrestle with him before. Or maybe it’s because I was tired. Nevertheless, he still wasn’t strong enough to bring me down. The dolt failed to realize that I did stuff like this on a daily basis; I could beat him even half-asleep. Ready to teach the sod a lesson, I made a sharp yank of my hand to the left, pulling Romaine’s down. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face red and strained as he struggled to bring my hand back to right. Halfway down, he released a long growl, and then in one strong move, I brought him down.

  “Mierda!” he swore, slamming his fist on the counter.

  Laughing my face off, I grabbed my bag from the counter and started out of the kitchen. “I warned you. I’m going to bed. And I expect to find my two grand neatly enclosed in an envelope under my bedroom door in the morning.”

  “I-I don’t understand. You don’t even lift weights!” he said indignantly.

  “That’s because I strive to look sexy, not muscular. Who wants a bitch with muscles?”

  “I will beat you one day, little sis,” he grumbled.

  “Don’t count on it!” I belatedly yelled as I mounted the stairs to my bedroom.

  The vibration of my cellphone went off again. It had been vibrating non-stop since the end of my photo shoot. But like before, I didn’t even look at the screen because I knew exactly who it was. The caller had gotten under my skin, and I needed to stay away from him. He was right. I was all high and mighty, until he touched me. All saucy and peppery, until he touched me. In control and in denial, until he touched me. It was hard to explain, hard to understand, as if it were some magic spell. The fact is, I couldn’t resist his touch and he knew it. And he would continue to use it against me. It’s never safe to be with a man who knows your weakness, because you will forever be the submissive, and will always be out of control. You’ll lose your identity, your sense of self, and be forever in his light. A woman’s weakness should never be known by the man. And Lovello knew mine.

  True, I’d agreed that he could take my digits from Tish and phone me after the shoot. But at that time I was undermined and under the spell of his touch. Away from him, I could think a heck of a lot clearer. Keeping my distance from Lovello Sex-on-Legs Nelson was the smartest thing to do.

  Once I opened my bedroom door, I was asleep before I even made it to the bed.

  There’s always been som
ething peaceful about waking up in the Blacksilles’ house. Maybe it’s because I knew that my father was right downstairs, or that my brother was only two blocks away, or maybe it was just that feeling of being home. My father had bought this house after Romaine’s birth. And he’d kept it, even with our back and forth between here and Colombia. The house was modernized with each year’s new invention, and grew larger with time because my father was perpetually adding, expanding and refurbishing, making it clear that selling the house was not an option. We were all attached to it: even for my mother, this was home.

  Over the past ten or so hours, rest had taken its course and rejuvenation had slowly settled in, now leaving me bright-eyed, clear-headed, and in sync with the rising sun. Skinny rays of sunlight peaked through the window blinds, and the pungent smell of eggs and bacon and coffee seeped under the crevice of my bedroom door.

  A lazy stretch arched my back off the bed, and I thought about doing absolutely nothing today, except for working out, of course. It had been ages since I’d had me a day of just lying around and doing nothing. But while a lay-in-bed day sounded pleasurable, the rumbling in my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten much of anything yesterday. I needed refueling. So I slid from the bed and went straight into the shower.

  After showering, I donned stylistically ripped jeans shorts, a white Hollister T-shirt and flip-flops. I grinned in satisfaction at the small white envelope that was sitting at my door when I opened it. Poor Romaine, he wanted so badly to beat me. Maybe one day I’d let him. Not.

  The sounds of deep male laughter traveled from the kitchen and dipped into my ears as I journeyed downstairs while checking emails on my phone. Frowning, I checked the time to be sure that it was still morning. Yep, five minutes after eight. Yet my father was up? It wasn’t his wont to have guests this early in the morning. Vince Blacksille was never a morning person. Anytime after noon when his grumpiness had melted off, sure, he was approachable for conversation. Never before that.