The Billionaire’s Promise (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance)

by Ivy Layne

  I dropped my arms and took a step back, leaving her standing there, wobbling a little, her eyes dazed, her pupils dilated. Her tongue licked her bottom lip, lingered, as if tasting me there. I thought I was going to lose it. Reminding myself that I had a plan, I shoved my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and said, “We aren't together?"

  Magnolia shook her head as if trying to wake up from a daze. "Vance, we can't."

  "Why not?" I folded my arms over my chest and stared her down. "Why not? And don't tell me you're on the rebound or that I can't do commitment. Those are copouts. You've known me for years. You know by now whether you have feelings for me. If you really don’t, if we’re just friends, then fine, I'll let it go."

  "I really don’t. We’re just friends,” Magnolia shot back.

  "Liar," I said. She looked away. "You're lying," I said again. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't have any feelings for me beyond friendship. Make me believe you."

  "Fine," she snapped. She crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking my own posture, probably not realizing the position plumped her tits up until my mouth watered. Her eyes skittered around the room, glancing off mine twice before settling somewhere around my shoulder.

  "Magnolia, you have to look me in the eyes. My shoulder doesn't count."

  "I know." Her eyes traveled up, slowly, meandering over my features until they met my gaze dead on. My gut clenched at the raw emotion swimming there. She was scared. Underneath all the lust, so was I. For me, lust was winning out over the fear of fucking up our friendship.

  That was the difference between Magnolia and me. She was a lot better at self-denial.

  I waited for her to say something. Anything. She opened her mouth and drew in a breath, then closed it, biting down on her lower lip so hard the soft flesh turned white.

  "You can't do it, can you?" I asked softly. "You can't tell me you don't want me."

  "I do," she finally admitted. "You know I do. But I don't want to."

  "I want to enough for the both of us," I said.

  "That's what I'm afraid of. You want to, but what happens when you get bored? This is going to change everything."

  "And you don't like change," I said. "Just trust me, and stop thinking so much. This doesn't have to be complicated unless you make it complicated."

  The fear in her eyes turned to doubt, and she looked away, still chewing on her lip. Unable to stand it anymore, I framed her face in my hands and kissed her again, stroking the side of her jaw with my thumb until she opened her mouth to me.

  My cock strained against my jeans as she melted into me, her arms wrapping around my back, one hand sneaking beneath my T-shirt to lie against my skin. That was what I wanted.

  Her skin on mine. All of it. All of her soft, smooth, creamy skin rubbing against me. I had the hem of her T-shirt in my hands when a cry sounded through the monitor, fretful and muffled. We jumped apart as if Rosie had toddled in the room and caught us red-handed.

  "I've got her," Magnolia said, stepping out of my arms. She high-tailed it out of the living room and up the stairs before I could stop her.

  "Coward," I called after her.

  She didn't slow down or say a word, just shot me the finger and disappeared upstairs. I'd let her go for now. She wouldn't escape me so easily the next time.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MAGNOLIA

  * * *

  Vance was right. I was a coward. A big, giant wimp. I couldn't think straight when he kissed me. That was why I always ran away afterward. The second he touched me, my brain melted out of my ears and all I wanted was more.

  One of us had to think straight. I adored Vance. I respected him. And I'm not discounting how hard he'd worked on his sobriety when I say that he was impulsive and used to getting what he wants, when he wants it—a side effect of being raised in a wealthy, powerful family. When it came to business, Vance analyzed every angle for potential repercussions. Not so much in his personal life.

  Rosie had bought me some time, and as I escaped up the stairs, I planned to use it to think about how to handle Vance. That plan didn't work. Rosie had other ideas. She was squirming restlessly in her crib, her cheeks hot and snot running down her face.

  Poor baby girl. It took me a while to get her cleaned up, and then she couldn't settle down. The next twelve hours were a blur of pacing and rocking and pleading for her to get some sleep.

  I don't know how single parents do it. A lot of the time, I was fine when it was just Rosie and me. Most of the time, she was a good baby, sweet and easy to please. Then there were the times when she was fussy and feverish, and she sneezed so hard she managed to get snot and vomit in my hair. At times like that, it was a blessing to hand her to Vance and take a break.

  We passed her back and forth all night, sneaking in cat naps in between worrying and walking. Her fever cycled up and down until sometime just before dawn, when it broke, leaving her covered in a light sweat but finally able to sleep.

  Together, we gave her a sponge bath and settled her in her crib. Vance sent me to bed first, and I was mostly asleep when I felt the mattress dip beside me and the covers shift. I cracked an eye just in time to see Vance lay his head on the pillow beside mine.

  "Go to sleep, " he whispered. "You can yell at me in the morning."

  I would. He had his own bed. What was he doing in mine? I was totally going to yell at him in the morning. Or maybe in the afternoon, because it was already morning and I just wanted to sleep.

  I was vaguely aware of sounds from the crib, pale sunlight leaking into my bedroom and movement beside me. Then it was quiet again, and I drifted back to sleep.

  I dreamed of heat and Vance. I came awake slowly to find myself draped across his body, my cheek pressed to his chest, one leg hooked over his hips, and the insistent jut of his erection against my thigh.

  He’d wrapped one arm around my back, his fingers possessively gripping my ass. With his free hand, he stroked my arm, his fingertips light on my skin, barely there, moving from my shoulder to my elbow, to my wrist and back again.

  It was an innocent touch. Almost nothing. I was the one draped all over him. That didn't matter. I was seduced and I wasn't even awake. I tried to get my mind in gear. What was I going to do?

  Vance was half naked. I wore a thin nightshirt. We were in bed. It wasn't going to take much to escalate this. I had two choices—run away, or make a move.

  So, what would it be? Was I going to keep running? I thought about it, thought about what that had gotten me so far. I wanted Vance. He was right about that. I’d been lusting over him since the first day we'd met. This was my chance to find out what had all those women coming back for more.

  But he was my best friend. Having sex with him was a bad idea. A really bad idea. So bad that I still don't know why I lifted my head and stared into Vance's blue eyes. They were hot with arousal and very much awake.

  "Do you want me to go?" he asked, and I knew if I said I did, he would go. I told him the truth.

  "No, I don't want you to go."

  To my surprise, he hesitated. Maybe if he’d pounced on me, it would've shaken my resolve, but that hesitation, that hint that he might be as worried about this as I was, convinced me. I kissed him. Now that I’d decided to stop running, I didn't want to wait anymore.

  Vance's hand on my ass tightened, and he hauled me on top of him, my legs spreading over his hips, cradling his erection between my thighs. His mouth on mine, he fisted his hands in my cotton nightshirt and swept it up my torso and over my head, leaving me straddling him, naked except for a pair of plain white cotton panties.

  "If you could stay right there for the rest of my life, I think I'd be in heaven," Vance said, his hot, hungry eyes taking in every inch of my bare skin. I started to flush with self-conscious embarrassment.

  Vance was perfect, his body all silky skin and steely muscle, without any flaws I could see. I was in better shape since we'd started jogging together, but I wasn't taut or lithe, and my abs di
dn't have a hint of definition aside from my belly button.

  Vance learned my body with his hands, stroking from my knees to my hips and up my waist to close around the sides of my breasts, pressing them together for a moment before stroking his thumbs over my nipples.

  "Fucking beautiful, Magnolia. You're fucking beautiful. I've been imagining you naked for two years, but reality doesn't even come close."

  I opened my mouth to protest. His eyes flicked to my face and he scowled. "Don't say a fucking word, Sugar."

  I wanted to tell him not to call me Sugar, but his fingertips squeezed my hard nipples and thought fled from my mind. He could call me whatever he wanted if he did that again.

  "Nothing I say is going to get through to you.” He sat up in a surge of muscle, taking me with him and flipping me to my back. "I'm going to have to show you how much I love your body. Maybe then, you'll get it."

  He did. Whatever Brayden and I had been doing in bed, whatever it was that we called sex… clearly, we'd been doing it wrong. Vance settled himself between my thighs and cupped my breasts in his palms, pressing them together, bringing first one nipple, then the other to his mouth.

  He started gently, trailing his tongue over my breasts, teasing, waking every nerve, his fingers as busy as his mouth until my breasts were swollen, my nipples hard red beads. I couldn't remember ever being so aroused, so needy, and his hands had stayed above my waist.

  Just when I thought I would go mad, he lifted his head from my breasts and said, "I closed the door to the sitting room, but try to be quiet for this next part. We don't want to wake Rosie up."

  What next part? Before I could think through what he'd said, he was moving down my body, his lips trailing across my ribs, his tongue dipping into my bellybutton, making me squirm, before he settled between my legs, lifting first one, then the other, over his shoulders. Braced on his elbows, he set his palms on my inner thighs, holding me open to his gaze.

  I couldn't move, frozen in lust and embarrassment. No one had ever seen me so exposed. Not outside of a medical office. I wanted to snap my legs shut and scramble off the bed. I wanted to press my hot, slick flesh to Vance's mouth. His tongue flicked out, tasting my inner thigh. I shuddered with pleasure and need. I had no idea what to expect.

  No one had ever done this to me before. I'd read about it, but that wasn't the same. My hands went to his, I don't know why. Not to stop him. Maybe I just needed something to hold onto. His fingers tangled with mine, our wrists braced on my inner thighs and pinning my legs wide.

  I had the random thought that I was glad I'd gone back to yoga. Flexibility was good. Then I stopped thinking altogether.

  Vance's tongue, his lips, were everywhere. Tasting me, teasing me. Embarrassment fled under the wave of hot, desperate arousal. When he wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked the first time, orgasm hit me like a slap—fast and hard and shocking. I'd never come like that with a partner. I wasn't expecting to, wasn't thinking about an orgasm. I'd never even come like that by myself.

  I was still gasping and making a low, keening sound in my throat when Vance rubbed his stubbled cheek against my inner thigh and said, "I'm going to keep calling you Sugar. You taste so sweet."

  He licked me again, giving a hum of satisfaction. I had no frame of reference for what this was. This wasn't sex. Not how I knew it. I should've expected the second orgasm, but it built so slowly, I didn't see it coming. Vance took his time, his tongue teasing and flicking and sucking and dipping inside over and over until I was squirming and mindless, caught in the gradually building wave of pleasure, so absorbed in him that the flash of bliss took me by surprise when it broke and crashed through me.

  He cut off my moans with his mouth, kissing me, tasting of me—salty and musky and sweet—before he was there, filling me with that thick, hard cock. I think it might have hurt if I hadn't already come twice. I knew he was big, but seeing him across the room and feeling him inside me were two very different things. He pressed in slowly, making room for himself in my body, his passage eased by how wet I was, how much I needed him.

  When he was in to the hilt, filling me completely, he let out a short gasp of breath and moaned, “Fuck, baby. Fuck, so—"

  His head dropped to my shoulder, his cheek brushing mine, his breath hitching in his chest as he started to move, his hips jerking in an uneven rhythm as if his body had escaped his control. Following instinct, I tilted my hips and wrapped my legs around him, drawing him closer, deeper.

  As if he'd been waiting for permission, he started to move, thrusting harder, faster. I would've told you there was no way I could come again. I would've been wrong. Vance's breathing was shallow and harsh, his eyes squeezed shut. When he reached down and sank his fingers into my ass, tilting my hips further and thrusting even deeper, he hit something inside me and I exploded in sharp, almost painful pleasure, gasping for air and calling out his name, over and over.

  His mouth took mine, silencing my cries as his body stiffened in orgasm. I didn't pass out afterward, but it kind of felt like it. My brain was completely offline. All I could do was lie there and try to catch my breath. I let out a hitch when Vance pulled himself from my body, still half-hard.

  Then he was gone, and I was cold, but still too overwhelmed to do anything about it. Water ran in the bathroom, and he was back, the condom gone and a warm, wet washcloth in his hand. If I'd been thinking, I would've been embarrassed to have him stroke the cloth between my legs gently twice before tossing it on the floor. But by the time I registered what he was doing, he was already done, sliding under the sheet, pulling the blankets over us, and drawing me into his arms.

  I thought we were going to talk about it. Wasn't that what people did after they had sex for the first time? Maybe we were supposed to, but we didn't. I was back the way I'd woken up, my cheek on Vance's chest, my legs tangled with his, the soothing stroke of his fingers on my arm and tugging on my hair. I listened to the thump of his heartbeat beneath my ear and thought about what I should say until I fell asleep.

  Rosie woke us a few hours later. We shifted from our leisurely nap straight into panic mode when we heard her coughing and sneezing. Vance got to her first.

  "No fever," he called into the bedroom. "I'll clean her up and feed her, and you can take the first shower."

  I wasn't going to turn that offer down. Vance was still giving Rosie her bottle when I got out of the shower, so I took the time to dry my hair. Maybe I was avoiding him, just a little. My body hummed with the aftermath of three unbelievable orgasms.

  Literally unbelievable.

  If I'd had any idea sex could be like that, I would've broken up with Brayden a long time ago. I didn't know. I'd never understood how people said sex was better than chocolate. Now I knew I'd just been having the wrong kind of sex.

  I wasn't going to play the regret game with Vance. I wasn't that big of a liar, or a coward. I wanted to have sex with him again. And again. Vance had been in control, and everything had been about me. The next time, I wanted to touch him, to explore every inch of that fucking fine body until he was just as desperate as I had been.

  I wanted, needed, to make him feel as good as he'd made me feel. I wasn't going to start some crap about how we shouldn't have done it and it was a mistake. It probably was a mistake, but it wasn't one I wanted to take back.

  Still, the analytical side of my brain couldn't stop asking me questions. What did this mean? How are things going to change? The sex was amazing, I guess, but it didn't erase my original concerns. Just because the orgasms had blown my mind didn't mean they were anything different for Vance. For all I knew, that had been just average sex to him.

  It was too late for me. I wasn't in danger of falling in love with Vance. I wasn't one of those people who could separate sex and emotion. I already loved him. Now this? Eventually, he was going to move on. Right now, with Rosie on his hands, he needed me. He needed my help, he needed my support, and he wanted me in bed. It was the perfect arrangement for him. For
me, the amazing orgasms aside, it was a recipe for a broken heart, and I was walking right into it, my eyes wide open. I was an idiot.

  An idiot who still had to get ready for work. Finished with my hair, I put on some makeup, wrapped the towel around me, and went to go find my clothes. Vance and Rosalie were nowhere to be seen. I'll admit, that was a relief. Standing in front of my closet, I chose a shift dress in a deep plum. It was comfortable but well cut and polished enough for work.

  I slipped into the matching tailored cardigan and went to look for the bracelet I always wore with that dress. It had been my grandmother's, a simple amethyst and diamond pattern my grandfather had given her as an anniversary gift. It wasn't a terribly expensive piece—the stones were on the smaller side—but the design of faceted flowers was whimsical and sweet and it made me feel close to my grandmother.

  I couldn't find it. My desk at work could get disorganized, but I was careful with my jewelry. I didn't have a lot, most of it handed down from my grandmother, and I treasured every piece she'd given me. Each one had a story, was a piece of her life, a memory of her. There's no way I would've misplaced so much as an earring, but the bracelet was gone. I checked everywhere, even my bedside table and the bathroom drawers. By the time Vance came to check on me, I was biting my lip to hold back tears.

  "Babe, do you want breakfast?"

  I turned to him, shaking my head.

  "What's wrong? Magnolia, tell me what's wrong," he said, crowding into my space. His hands were full of Rosie, but he held her against one shoulder and wound his arm around me.

  "It's nothing. I just . . . I lost my grandmother's bracelet. I can't find it anywhere. I'm always careful with it. I don't understand how I could've misplaced it."

  "Could you have left it at the loft?"

  "I don't think so. I haven't worn it in a few weeks—" I cut off, trying to remember the last time I'd worn the bracelet. Everything had been turned around since Vance and Rosie had moved in. The bracelet wasn't the first thing I'd misplaced lately—there were a few odds and ends that I must have rearranged when Vance and Rosie had moved in that I couldn't find.