Beauty and her Billionaire Beast

by Bella Love-Wins

  Knox pulls my legs out from between his and turns me to straddle him. His hands grip each of my ass cheeks and I start to roll my hips, grinding my center along his hardness to ease the growing ache between my legs. My arms wrap around his neck as we continue to kiss so deeply that I can picture him fucking me with the same pace and ferocity. I want to know how rough he can get. I want to feel him invading me, overfilling me, owning me.

  With his hands on my ass, he leans forward and lifts himself to stand. I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my ankles at his back as he turns and heads inside, all while our lips are still connected. He carries me inside, walking me to his bedroom where I’m staying, but as he lowers me into bed, covering me with his big, warm body, there’s a loud buzzing sound from a spot beside the dimmer switch.

  “Fuck,” he groans and looks over at what I see now is an intercom. “That must be Pops. I should go check on him, just in case.”

  “Hurry back,” I whisper, kissing his neck.

  He pulls the covers over me and presses a kiss on my forehead. “I will.”

  After he leaves, I sink further under the covers and close my eyes for what feels like only a minute. When I blink again, I feel his strong arms around me, his chest at my back and his hips at the back of my thighs. His breathing is heavy and drawn out. Then I hear a gentle snore and I smile. He’s asleep.

  The heat from his body makes me so cozy. It’s like being wrapped up under warm blankets in front of a fireplace. This time, when my eyes close, I let the soft sounds coming from him pull me to a restful sleep.

  15

  Knox

  I wake up on my side. I’m still fucking tired. It’s daybreak, and a bright beam of sunlight is directly on my face. It pierces into the room through the opening between the automatic blinds. Squinting, I block out some of the glare and notice Isabelle next to me. Our bodies are facing each other, and her slender index finger is tracing a path down my bare chest.

  This is a first.

  I’ve never slept in the same bed with a woman, for starters. I’ve also never had a woman in my bed where no fucking took place.

  “Good morning,” she greets me with a smile.

  “Morning. You’re up before me. How’d you sleep?”

  “Very well, thanks.”

  “Good,” I say, and stretch one arm into the air and the other up toward the headboard, getting the kinks out.

  “You came back to bed with me. How come you didn’t wake me up?”

  I trace the back of my hand along the line of her jaw, then run my fingers into her hair. “Didn’t want to wake you. You didn’t kick me out of your bed either.”

  “That’s because it’s your bed,” she says with a shy laugh. “But maybe I kind of like the feel of a warm body next to me. You know, keeping the covers nice and cozy.”

  “Oh. So just any old warm body will do? Or mine specifically?” I ask, to see her reaction.

  Color stains her cheeks, and she looks away briefly, seeming to struggle for an answer. “That’s a pretty loaded question.”

  “Not really. It’s a pretty simple one.” I place one hand at her back and pull her to my chest, rolling us until I’m on top of her. Straddling her hips, I sit back and hold her in place at her shoulders. “Tell me,” I demand.

  She stares up into my face, trying hard to look serious, but she soon erupts in a fit of girlish laughter and giggles. “Is that an order? What do you want me to say?”

  “Just the truth.”

  “Uh, what’s the question again?”

  “You know what it is. Answer me.”

  “Okay…but you have to answer a question I have for you too.”

  “Sure. I’m an open book with you. Ask away.”

  Her hands move up to my chest again, fingers sliding along my skin. I look down and see her doing the same thing again, tracing a couple of fingers along the dots of scarlet, red, and pink lines scarring my otherwise smooth, tanned skin tone.

  “You’re still fighting? At those cage clubs or whatever they’re calling it now?”

  I nod. “Underground fight clubs. And yes. That’s what I do. It’s a hobby. It’s who I am.”

  “You didn’t have all these scars before.”

  “Think of them as badges. I wear my medals proud.”

  She stops her hand at a long, raised line where some cheating dickhead fighter cut me. He had a razor blade slipped in between his index and middle fingers, embedded into his protective boxing hand wraps. The wound he gave me wasn’t serious, but I bled like a pig that night. I got fifteen stitches to close that shit up. But I still won that fucking fight.

  “I think I saw a few before. But so many of these are new. Do they hurt?”

  I clasp my hand over hers, where she’s still touching that scar. “Nope.”

  “What about right after you got them?”

  “Not really. The adrenaline kicks in before a fight. Nothing really hurts.”

  “Hmmm. When’s your next fight?”

  “Right after the long weekend.”

  “Oh…”

  “In case you were going to ask whether or not I plan to stop fighting, the answer is no. Not anytime soon. Got a problem with that?”

  The smile falls from her face. “It doesn’t matter what I think, if you’ve already made up your mind.”

  “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

  “I’m not sure if it matters what my answer is.” Her voice is clipped, and she tries to sit up but I hold her down.

  “Yes. It does.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked.”

  She struggles against my weight, trying to move out from under me. “Let me up, Knox.”

  I shake my head. “Not until you give me an answer.”

  “Jeez, why do you have to be so insistent? I don’t know, okay?”

  “You don’t know whether or not you want me sleeping beside you, or if any guy will do?”

  I hear the roughness in my voice. Even I find that it sounds deep and menacing. I shouldn’t be angry or jealous. I have no reason to be. She’s not supposed to be mine, but I sure as hell feel the heated possessiveness building up in my chest when I picture Isabelle with some random guy sleeping beside her.

  She’s not mine.

  But I don’t want her with anyone else.

  “Let me up,” she pleads.

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” I run my hands down her forearm, grazing the rough callouses of my palm against her soft, tender skin. She tries to move but I’m so much stronger than she is, and to be honest, she’s not putting up much of a fight. I have to believe she’s curious about what I’ll do next. At her wrists, I slide them together across her belly and lift them above her head, pinning them to a spot between the pillows and the headboard. Her t-shirt lifts with the movement, revealing the creamy skin at her stomach.

  “Because what, Knox?” she asks in a soft, sexy moan.

  “Because… I want to know…” I lower my head to her stomach. Pressing my lips to the exposed skin causes her stomach to flutter at my touch.

  I smile against her skin. “I want to find out if you prefer my lips warming you, tasting you, and…” With my free hand, I slide down to her shorts and slip my fingers under the stretchy waistband. She takes a shaky breath as I move them lower. Lower. Lower. And as they pass over her well-trimmed bush and stop less than an inch from her clit, she whimpers.

  “God… Knox,” she moans.

  “I want to know if you want my fingers sweeping over you, entering you, making you scream and beg for more…” I leave my fingers where they are, and feel her hips lift up off the mattress to meet them. She tilts her hips some more, making contact between my fingertips and her clit.

  “And most of all, I want you to tell me if you like how wet I make you…” I say, then pull my hand out from her shorts, release her wrists, and climb off of her. “Or if you’re fine with some random guy replacing me,” I fi
nish, rumbling out a laugh.

  “You bastard!” she shrieks at me, throwing a pillow at me as I get off the bed and start to leave. “I can’t believe you’d do that.”

  “You still haven’t given me an answer,” I tease from the doorway. “I’ll be over in the other guest room while you think about it.”

  “You’re such a—”

  “Prick? Asshole? That I am. And it won’t ever change, Belle.” I head down the hall, a smile on my face. But even I am not that strong a man. I raise my hand to my nose and smell her scent on my fingers.

  I want her, so fucking bad.

  By the time I make it to the room I’m staying in and take a seat on the bed, Isabelle walks in the door. “You’re not a nice guy,” she says, standing in the middle of the room.

  “Get over here and tell me that,” I dare her, signaling for her to come to me using the same two fingers she was just grinding against.

  She doesn’t move.

  “Come here. Now,” I order her.

  She folds her arms over her breasts and tilts her head sharply to one side, causing her hair to flip. “Or what?”

  “You don’t want to find out.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “No,” I say, and let out a long yawn I didn’t realize was coming. It’s barely six in the morning, and I didn’t make it back to bed until after three. “You really don’t. Get over here. I’m still tired, but don’t underestimate me. I’ll chase you through this pool house if I have to. And when I catch you and spank your ass until it’s bright fucking red, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Try me.”

  Finally, after a minute of looking as though she’s contemplating being chased, she smiles and walks over to me. She sits next to me on the bed. “I don’t know if I like this room,” she says, looking around. “What exactly is this theme? Royal Victorian?”

  “Something like that. But you’re changing the subject.” With one half turn, I roll her and pin her to the bed. “Do I need to repeat my demonstration, or are you going to answer me?”

  “All right,” she cries out. “Yes. That’s my answer.”

  “Yes? Yes, you want me? Or yes, some random guy will do?”

  “What you said first,” she admits in a whisper.

  “Say it, then.”

  “Dammit. I want you, Knox Steele…I want you.”

  I lower to the bed and kiss her hard on her lips. “Good,” I whisper, and move off of her again. “Let’s get some shuteye.”

  “What?”

  “I was up with Pops for a few hours. I need a little more rest.” I get out of the bed and as I stand, reach my hand out to her. “You coming? We can sleep in the master bedroom, since you prefer it in there.”

  She takes my hand but lets out a grunt. “I don’t understand you, you know? You just did all of that to get me to admit that I want you, then you tell me you want to sleep.”

  I lead the way back to the master bedroom. “I want to do a lot more than sleep, but I’m respecting your wishes. You said no messing around this weekend. Prying eyes and meddling parents, remember?”

  “Yes, but… okay you’re right.”

  “But I’m not making any such promises when we hit Manhattan city limits on Monday.”

  “Deal.” She crawls into bed and I climb in after her. We both lie on our backs at first, then she laces her hand into mine between our bodies. “Good night.”

  “Night, Belle.”

  16

  Knox

  I wake up to Isabelle on top of me, sleeping sideways across my chest. Her face is turned to the side, arms wrapped around my neck, her breasts at my ribs, and her legs stretched out next to me.

  The bedside clock says it’s one in the afternoon.

  I’m wide awake now, but she’s sleeping so peacefully that I lie there for a while, not wanting to disturb her. I watch her, in awe of how something so simple can bring me such calm. Like the way her heart beats against my ribcage. Or that when I take a breath, it lifts her body too, as though she’s a part of me. Or seeing some of her hair fall over her shoulder onto mine.

  The sound of heels clicking on the granite floors gets my attention. There are only two other female guests staying with us this weekend, but really, that noise can also be coming from one of the event staff or day cleaners. They shouldn’t be here. No one else has a key to this place. I try to remember if I locked the front door or the sliding doors to the pool area. Probably not. The regular staff know not to come in. I assume that the error was mine, and gently slide Isabelle off my chest to her side of the bed so I can check it out.

  “Who’s there?” I ask after pulling my bedroom door closed behind me to keep the sounds from waking Isabelle. I neglect to throw a t-shirt on, but at least I’m covered from the waist down with a pair of sweatpants slung low on my hips, even if there’s nothing underneath.

  “Good morning, Knox and Isabelle!” says the voice coming from down the hall.

  It can’t be any of the staff. These people are professionals. They don’t call their bosses or clients by their first names. Ever. Even when we ask them to do so.

  I follow the sound of their voice, and find Tandy sitting in a high back bar stool at the kitchen’s breakfast island. She has a cup of coffee in one hand and her eyes are cast downward as she flips through some type of trade magazine on the counter. There’s also a folded newspaper next to her.

  “Hi, Mrs. Harrison,” I say politely. “If you’re looking for Isabelle, she’s still asleep.”

  She turns to look at me, noticing that I’m not wearing as much as I probably should, and averts her eyes. Well, serves her right for showing up unannounced. I chose to stay in the pool room for privacy reasons. I don’t apologize for the lack of clothing, and I also won’t excuse myself to throw anything else on.

  “Knox dear, I actually came by to talk to you.”

  I raise my eyebrows, surprised that she’d have any reason at all to want to deal with me about an item. “Me? I’m not sure how I can help you, but I’ll do my best.”

  “It’s about Isabelle.”

  Wow. Well fuck, I’m nowhere near ready to have a one-on-one with the mother of the woman in my bed. We don’t even know what we are to each other yet.

  “What about her?”

  “I was curious as to whether you’ve noticed how tired and weak she seems lately. Has she been sleeping okay? Is she eating? She looks so thin. Too thin.”

  I shrug my shoulders, even though I do agree with her observations. I won’t get between women, and I refuse to be a part of the he said, she said drama that usually results from it. “All I’m aware of is that she seemed to be fighting off a bug,” I tell her.

  “Interesting. I’ll make a note to pick up something at the pharmacy when Joseph and I go into town later.”

  “Sounds great. That should help.” I shove my hands into my pocket then realize that the move has pushed the waistband of my sweatpants even lower, revealing some of my pubic hairs. Quickly, I adjust the pants and let my hands drop to my sides. “Is there anything else? If there is, we can probably speak a little later when Isabelle wakes up.”

  “In fact, there is something. I’d just like to say that Joseph and I are thrilled that you and our daughter are back in each other’s lives again.”

  “Thanks,” I answer to keep it short, but she opens her mouth to continue.

  “You were always such great friends. We hoped you’d remain close over the years, and although you lost touch for a while, it’s a relief to see how easily the two of you have hit it off… as friends, of course. Or perhaps there’s more?”

  Now I get it. She’s here to see whether our friendship has developed or evolved. Isabelle and I haven’t put any labels on our closeness, so I’m not about to insinuate a thing her mother.

  “That’s definitely a conversation you should have with Isabelle,” I say, dismissing the topic as respectfully as I can.

  “
Well, of course, but I’d love to hear your take on how things are going. Your grandfather was saying that you weren’t too keen on the idea of getting serious right now. Joseph and I would just like you to know that we have Isabelle’s best interest at heart.”

  “I do as well.”

  “That’s excellent. I’m sure you know how it is, with Joseph being in the public eye. He’s under constant scrutiny by his constituents, and so are his family members, by extension.”

  “I’m not sure if I get what you’re trying to say. Are you telling me that Isabelle and I should avoid being seen together?”

  “Oh dear, not at all. Although, that’s more of a moot point now.” She picks up the newspaper that she brought in with her, and stretches her arm toward me.

  “What’s this?” I ask and take it.

  “Page eleven should explain it.”

  I unfold the paper and flip the pages. When I make it to page eleven, I see what her visit is really about. Fuck. There’s a picture of Isabelle and me, sitting at a local fast food place. It’s from the night we drove into town. It’s a decent picture. She’s on one side of a red and white checkered table, and I’m on the other side, holding a burger a few inches from my mouth with two hands. It’s the clearly biased headline and subheading that’s a little disconcerting. They read:

  * * *

  Political Royalty Rubs Shoulders with Hamptons One Percenters

  State Senator and Family: Out of Touch with the Common Man

  * * *

  “I didn’t know about this article,” I explain. “I apologize if it’s been harmful to Senator Harrison.”