The Bet (Indecent Intentions Book 1)

by Lily Zante

  She had scared him, and it had been for good reason. He'd hurt her, and at least now he seemed to understand how much.

  Only, she sensed that they were going to be okay, because she trusted him, and she believed him, and because she had always believed that actions spoke louder than words. It had been the thing that made her repel his advances before, seeing him in action on the island, seeing the way he worked. No amount of his words back then could have convinced her that he was a nice guy hiding in a wolf's clothing.

  But ever since she'd started looking after Jacob, ever since she'd started working for him, it was the things he'd done for her that shone the brightest. The small things that had mattered.

  And even later, after their break, he hadn’t stopped doing those little things that mattered for her. And so, she knew they were going to be fine.

  Because when a guy who wasn't with you, who knew you hated him, still did the smallest things to make your life better, that was a guy you couldn’t let walk away so easily.

  That was a guy who had earned himself a second chance.

  She tugged at his hand, as her heels dug into the sand, and he pulled back, and stopped.

  His eyes asked 'what', but his lips said nothing.

  “I want you to know that I get it. I get what you did and why, and I believe that you're sorry. And I know we already discussed all this before, but I just want you to know one more time.”

  “Okay.”

  “Because I don't want you to be here with me and still be worried.”

  “Do I really look that worried?”

  “You look that worried,” she echoed.

  “I never used to care much, how girls felt,” he said, “But you mattered to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to risk messing this up again.”

  “I know.”

  He opened his mouth, and she placed her finger against his lips. “I know, so let’s stop it, and enjoy being here.”

  “Okay.”

  He stepped away, his eyes glistening, his shoulders relaxing down, as if a huge weight had been taken away.

  They hadn’t come here to play volleyball, or admire the sights, although there would be time enough to do some of those things, but she had come prepared, and ready, and knew he would not be the one to make the first move.

  She’d worn her shorts today, the same frayed-at-the-edges denim shorts she’d worn on the island. His face had turned bright when he’d first seen her.

  She tugged his hand again. And when he moved forward a little, she tip-toed up, and kissed him, her toes digging into the sand. His mouth was soft, and luscious, and when his hands came around her waist, she slanted her mouth to the side, and deepened their kiss.

  “Izzy, Izzy,” he murmured, pulling away, his breath hot, and heavy against her face. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, their bodies pressed together, their mouths airtight, as if nothing could pull them apart.

  He set her down again, just as the gentle breeze kissed her almost-bare legs while heat started to rise and roared inside her. “Let’s walk down to the end of the beach,” he said, pointing to the rocks in the far distance. “I don’t know about you, but my legs need a good stretch.”

  The 3 hour drive from the city to here had been hard enough on him, given that she had done her best to run her hands over her legs, getting pleasure in the fact that the sight of her in her shorts was turning him on.

  It was refreshing to be outside and they walked along, talking, her telling him about her and Cara and how after this weekend she had to put her head down and study hard. And he told her where he was with his new business, but that he already had an idea to start another business.

  Already, from the moment he had picked her up from her apartment, to now, they had spent more time together than at any one time since they had been together. Before, and after. That was how she saw their relationship, the before, being the time up until Jacob had told her of the bet. And the after, being now.

  They walked to the far end, remembering Kawaya, and the walk on the beach there, and his Ferragamo loafers, and the waterfall.

  “We should get supplies,” he suggested, as they walked back, a taste of the salt air in her lungs, and the breeze now getting stronger, whipping her hair this way and that. She rubbed her arms, wishing she’d had the sense to ditch the shorts, and put on her jeans.

  “Now?” she asked, as they walked back into the house from the back.

  “It’s not far,” he said, leading her through the hallway and towards the main door.

  “We could go into town, grab lunch, load up on a few things, and be back in the hour.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, standing at the foot of the large wooden staircase while he pulled out his car keys. She rubbed her legs, hoping to wipe away the goosebumps that had sprung up all over.

  “You’re cold,” he said, reaching down and rubbing her legs. His large hands strangely warm on her skin. He rubbed again, “Better?” he asked, stealing a glance at her.

  “Better,” she replied, feeling a quiver roll through her chest.

  He started again, rubbing faster, heating her thighs, and making her shiver, not with cold, this time.

  Putting the car keys on the side table, he reached down with his other hand and rubbed both of the legs. His hands weren’t only making the goosebumps disappear, they were setting fire to her body.

  An ache started, low and heavy in her breasts, as he moved his hands up, and put them around her waist pulling her closer, his mouth falling on hers, and claiming her lips. In a few seconds she was ablaze, running her hands across the tight hard ridges of his back, exploring under his sweatshirt, finding bare skin.

  He took her hand and led her upstairs, her skin prickling with anticipation, as he pulled her into the master bedroom.

  “Izzy,” he breathed, brushing her hair away with one hand, and cupping her face with the other hand, tilting it up towards him before his lips crashed down on hers, in a bruising to-die-for kiss.

  He pushed her onto the bed, and she sank back into the cool silk sheets, excitement and pure animal lust mixing and coursing through her veins and pumping through her. He stood back, looking at her, his eyes hooded, and dark, standing for a moment, as if wanting to see her, as if waiting and savoring the moment. And then he lifted his arms and took off his sweatshirt, “and the tee,” she urged, nodding at the white t-shirt he had on underneath.

  “You first,” he ordered, and she willingly obliged, sitting up and taking off her sweatshirt, to reveal the lime green bikini she’d worn on the island.

  “Fuck,” he moaned, his mouth falling open.

  “Remember this?” she asked, teasing, as she shimmied out of her shorts, so that he could see the whole ensemble. A sexy trip down memory lane.

  She heard him gasp, as she lay there, in the bikini top and matching briefs.

  “Fuck,” he said, as she spread her legs, letting him sink between her, his lean body lying over hers. He was hard, and hot against her skin, against her length and everywhere they touched, his chest against her breasts, his hard stomach against her smooth one, his hardness against her hips, his muscled thighs against hers.

  “Lime Green Bikini,” he breathed, making a strangled noise and planting his face between her breasts, his nose in the crack of her cleavage. With one tug, he pulled down her briefs, while his mouth sucked her nipple over the fabric of her bikini.

  Her brain short-circuited when his hand reached between her legs, and found her slickness. He rubbed his palm against her, making her spread her legs wider.

  “Jeez,” he moaned, before sliding his tongue into her mouth again, teasing, and swirling, while their hands ran rampant over each other’s bodies.

  How good this felt, lying, body to body on a super-sized bed, not sitting twisted in a car, trying to avoid a handbrake, no Cara in the room next door, just him and her, panting, and hot, and fully aroused. Her slickness matching his hardness. She trembled, as his kisses deepened
and turned urgent, and their hands tugged, and caressed.

  She pushed his head away. “Your turn,” she gasped, nodding at him. “Take it off.” And he did. She watched him roll his t-shirt up and off, and the throbbing between her deepened.

  His stomach was all hard ridges, and curves and dips, and when he stood between her legs, like a shirtless beast, exuding pure lust, and hunger, she tamed him, and told him to take off the rest.

  He bent over, pulling down his boxers, and when he straightened up, she gasped, almost falling back on the bed again, as her eyes fixed on his shaft.

  He hadn't been lying when he'd told her he was big.

  Her mouth fell open, and she dragged her gaze away to meet his dark-blue irises, their gazes locking as she bit back a moan, desperate to feel him inside her.

  “No,” she said, when he fell to his knees, his hands on her thighs. He looked up, his gaze questioning, his hand stilling. It wasn’t his tongue she longed for this time, it was his hardness she was most desperate for.

  “I need you,” she moaned, arching her back, her wetness hot and sticky between her legs. She needed him hard and strong, deep inside her to counter the months of frustration. He reached over, pulling out something from his jeans, allowing her to stare at his naked body. And then she watched as he ripped the foil packet and slid on a condom, almost teasing her as he slowly rolled it over his full length. She bit back another moan, desperate to have him inside her, her nipples pebbled with anticipation. She wanted his mouth, and his hardness, and him. All of him. Now. Joined to her completely.

  “I'll be gentle,” he promised, lowering himself down over her, his body hot, and smooth as he connected with her. His mouth nipping and teasing, and kissing her face and neck. She was naked, now, except for the bikini and when she reached behind to undo it, he stopped her. “Leave it,” he urged, cupping her breast, while his free hand caressed her thighs. He touched and stroked her everywhere, her breasts, her inner thighs, her stomach, her hips—everywhere except for her throbbing, heated center. Slow and determined, and taking his time, brushing feather-light fingers below her belly button, teasing her by not touching the very place that screamed out for him.

  She bent her legs at the knees, her body arching upwards, as he pushed his hardness to her entrance, and stopped—just for a moment, as their gazes locked, and he could see right into her. She mewled, low and desperate, when his thumb settled over her nub, touching her at last.

  A thousand tiny sparks ignited and spread out all over her skin. With his eyes fixed on hers, he began to guide himself inside her, making her gasp and shudder as he filled her slowly, stretching her, as every inch of his beautiful, heated hardness pushed inside.

  With his hands buried under her bottom, he pulled her towards him gently, tilting her hips so that he could bury hilt-deep, her soaking softness swallowing him completely. He was engorged to the max, rock-hard like never before, and she moaned, a long, dirty, animal moan, as he slid in.

  It was sweet music to his ears.

  Izzy beneath him, in that bikini. Izzy, soft, and wet, and tight, her muscles gripping him, pulling him in deeper.

  “Don’t stop,” she rasped, when he stilled, for a moment, watching the beads of sweat above her upper lip, watching her eyes flutter open, then close, each time he slid in, then out, making her feel his length. With his thumb, he rubbed her gently, giving her double the pleasure.

  He moved forward, touched her face, made her look at him, their eyes meeting, in this the most intimate of their union. This was him, the real him, a man who wanted nothing more than to do the right thing. A man who would never, if he could help it, hurt her again. “I love you,” he said, his gaze burning into hers, unblinking. She opened her mouth, and whimpered, her hips beginning to buck.

  He pulled back, then thrust in hard, burying deep again, her lifted hips cradling his full length, before he pulled out, seeing the evidence of her arousal all over him. It excited him, and he thrust into her again, harder than before. In, then out, again, and again, and again, setting up a rhythm, getting faster, pounding her relentlessly as her cries matched his thrusting. It was a tune of sorts—rough and feral.

  Her muscles clenched tightly around him each time he sank into her, and her pointed nipples pushed out from under the bikini top. She excited every part of him, igniting his senses with her cries, and her softness, as their lovemaking became faster and more frenetic.

  They were an entanglement of legs and arms, her ankles around his waist, squeezing tight while her fingers dug deep into his back.

  As her body trembled and vibrated to his touch, and her face turned pink, he could feel the pressure building up inside him. When her mouth fell open, a drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto her face, and she burst around him, tensing and jerking, her name on his lips, seductive and intimate.

  He rammed into her one last time, burying deep, before reaching for her hand, entwining his and hers together, before exploding. The pent-up frustration melting as he emptied inside her, grunting out his final release.

  She moaned and fluttered beneath him, and he, completely bereft of energy, squeezed her hand one final time, before falling onto his back, alongside her.

  This was what happened after months of living like a monk; after months of getting to know her, months of waiting, and dreaming, and wondering.

  They lay panting, and silent, with only the sound of their heavy breaths filling the air.

  He reached for the box of tissues by the bedside, cleaned up then turned to look at her. Her flushed face and shiny eyes stared back.

  “That was beautiful,” she said, still breathless, still panting, her chest lifting and lowering. “Worth the wait.”

  “Was it?” He needed to know.

  “Yes, oh, yes, yes yes,” she murmured, arching her back lazily.

  “I promise not to make you wait so long next time.”

  “I promise not to allow you to take so long next time.”

  She shuffled closer to him, forcing him to lie on his back. He opened his arms, and let her snuggle against his chest before putting his arm around her. Then, he held her close, her warm, soft body melding with his.

  He could fall asleep like this, with her in his arms, and when he awoke, he could lie here happily, and be content forever.

  In a world where happiness could be bought, where fancy cars, and overpriced watches and jewelry were temporary fixes, the real happiness, he realized, came from things which money could not buy—like creating precious moments, tender and unique, like sharing laughter and kisses with a lover, like finding a soulmate who completed you.

  Izzy completed him.

  And, he hoped, she felt the same way about him.

  Or that she would, given time.

  He had so much to tell her; so many ideas and thoughts which he had been contemplating ever since they had started their new journey. Seeds of new plans and loftier goals. Ambitious ventures he wanted to talk to Tobias about, but only once he had run his ideas by Izzy.

  Delving into the past, into the circumstances surrounding her father's company going bankrupt, he had discovered the name of the unscrupulous businessman who had been involved. A man who had gone into politics a few years ago, leaving a trail of sex scandals and rumors of arms trafficking in his wake.

  It had happened too long ago, for Xavier to find a way to right that wrong, but there was nothing to stop him from making things better.

  He was always looking out for new business ideas and opportunities and he liked the idea of buying premium real estate—like Luke did—but in Pittsburgh, and building luxury condos, because, why not? And if he was able to, and if Izzy’s father was interested, he could come on board. The man already had the experience and the know-how.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes, this woman who had let him back into her life, and who now meant the world to him.

  “You really want to know?”

  “I really wan
t to know.”

  And then he remembered what else he had to tell her. There would be a better time to discuss her father, and the future.

  “They kicked Shoemoney out of the mastermind group, those filthy rich businessmen.”

  Her eyes grew wider, and she propped herself up on one elbow.

  “What? When?”

  “A few weeks ago, at the last get together. Before they'd even started the first round of golf.”

  “This was your doing?”

  “Tobias's.”

  “You told him?”

  “I had to. I'm sorry.”

  She didn't look as annoyed as he had feared she might.

  “I won't let anyone hurt you again, Izzy. And I don't think it's right for people like that fucktard to get on with their normal lives, and get away with their crimes.”

  “So, Tobias kicked him out? Can he?”

  “Tobias commands a lot of respect in that group, even though he's one of the youngest.”

  “He can't have been pleased,” she said, tracing a circular pattern around chest. “Shoemoney, I mean.”

  “Do you care? Because I fucking don't.”

  “Ssshhh,” she said, dropping a kiss on his chest. “You don't have to get so angry.”

  “I can't help it. Not when it comes to that son of a bitch.” He rubbed his thumb over her skin, cupping her shoulder in the palm of his hand. “There were rumors, apparently. Tobias said a couple of the guys there said they’d heard he’d been doing things. That some of the girls had started to tell.”

  She let out a breath. “I wonder if the au pair ever came back from France.”

  “I hope for her sake she didn’t.”

  “Maybe it’s better that the truth comes out.”

  “If you ever want to press charges,” he said, “I'll be there, by your side.”

  “I know.” She gave him a smile that lit up her eyes.

  “You just have to say 'when'.”

  “I know.” She lowered her head and left another soft kiss on his chest.

  His hand moved down slowly, sliding over her bikini top, and he rubbed his thumb over her nipple, making it peak almost instantly.