Melody Anne's Billionaire Universe: The Billionaire Stands Alone (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Mackay Destiny Book 6)

by Kate Richards

  Now that was a super bad idea. She opened her mouth to say so, but the next set of curves had her stomach flipping. She took slow breaths and tried not to think about the nausea, and in a few moments they were rolling down the driveway into an underground garage. High-handed for sure.

  “John, I think you’d better take me home. I have a lot to do to be ready to get to work tomorrow, and I need to get hold of a sleeping bag or something. You wouldn’t happen to have one handy?”

  He zoomed into a slot and stopped the car. Her stomach stopped rolling a moment later. John hopped over the door and came around to open hers. “I don’t think I have a sleeping bag, but I’m sure we can find something. You can always just stay here tonight.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. What would everyone at work say if I…if we…” Her heart beat a rapid tattoo at the thought of spending the night with him. And he said it so casually. As if he brought employees home to his bed every night.

  “If we what? If you stayed in my guest room because you jumped the gun and moved into your new apartment without a pillow or blanket? Unless you want me to drop you back at the hotel, I think I’m your only port in a storm.”

  Damn man was right. She could go find a motel, she supposed, but since he was making it so clear he didn’t intend to seduce her, she could only accept his gracious offer. “I…thank you.” He couldn’t possibly know how much she wanted to jump into his bed, how she followed his every move with hungry eyes. She’d be very glad when the crush wore off.

  They rode up in a much bigger elevator than the private one where they’d come so close to disaster, shared most of the way with an older couple who engaged John in conversation about repairs being done to the workout room. She was relieved to have their company. Elevators had become something of a trigger to her. Every time she got in one with her boss, she wanted him to kiss her.

  Two floors after the couple disembarked, the P lit up and the doors slid open but not to a hallway. “John, the elevator goes right to your living room?”

  “Well, the foyer, but yes. Let me help you off with your coat.”

  She obediently turned away from him and allowed him to slip it off her shoulders, taking in the magnificence of the penthouse John Felix called home. The gray-veined marble flooring continued on into a living room bigger than her entire apartment. The wall of windows met a row of skylights, creating the illusion that the front of the apartment was open to the city with its twinkling lights. A staircase consisting of steel railings and glass or maybe plexi treads climbed to an upper level. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but groupings of sofas in charcoal and maroon as well as a long, gleaming black table with high-backed chairs offered a space perfect for hosting parties or maybe meetings. Did he have many?

  It certainly didn’t feel like a home in here, but it was stunning.

  As he hung their coats in a closet, she wandered toward the windows and gazed out at the view. Like her, he had a balcony, although his would probably be a rooftop terrace, she supposed. Nobody had to climb out a window to sit in the cushioned lounges or enjoy the fire pit here. Enough trees to make a small forest populated the space. “You’re walking distance from the office, aren’t you?”

  “I am. San Francisco is a great city for walking.”

  “Even in my neighborhood.”

  “You really do feel at home already.”

  “In my apartment, the office, everything.”

  “How about here?” He arrived at her side, and everything in her went on alert again. Her heart rate crept up, her breathing became shallow. “What do you think of my home?”

  “It’s big.”

  “And all you’ve seen is the living room.” He chuckled. “I entertain here frequently, but when I’m alone, I mostly hang out in the den or my bedroom.”

  I want to see your bedroom!

  His arched brow made her afraid she’d said it out loud. She couldn’t have, right?

  “Want to see where I really ‘live’?” He beckoned to the right. “Down the hall there, on the left.”

  They strolled past a kitchen that looked equipped to prepare banquets, everything granite and stainless steel and immaculately clean. Did he have staff up here? Of course he did. “Is your cook in her room?” If someone else was around, she’d be less worried about things getting too heated.

  “No, nobody lives in. I like my privacy. I did ask her to leave us a cold supper, though. I hope that’s all right?”

  She nodded, peering in each room as they passed. Small lights set into the ceilings allowed them to see their way while still keeping the unused rooms somewhat dim. One was set up as a theater room with rows of seats that could host at least a couple dozen people. Another was a library with walls of books that made her mouth water.

  “As soon as we finish the tour, we can eat. Unless you’d rather have dinner first?”

  She shook her head, for once mute.

  “I’d hate to be accused of starving you again.” Resting a hand on her waist, he turned her toward a doorway. “My den is right through here. What do you think?” He reached inside and flipped a switch. Several lamps came on, casting a warm glow.

  She moved inside, taking in every inch of the space. The couch and armchairs were deep cushioned here, in teal and gray tones. The coffee table of slate and highly polished teak held a bowl of seashells and driftwood bits. The huge windows continued here as she suspected they did the entire front of the building. The lower ceiling, maybe ten feet, made the space feel more intimate than what she’d realized was the “public” area where he would bring clients or guests. “It feels kind of beachy with that straw matting on that one wall. The landscapes of dunes and waves are all so cheerful. And I love that little iron fireplace in the corner. Do you ever have fires in here?”

  “I do. Would you like to have one tonight?”

  “Could we? This is my favorite room so far. Comfortable but bright and open. I could see myself hanging out here.”

  “I’m glad.” He stood next to her, his hand on her waist again. “I can see you hanging out here, too.”

  She turned toward him, and he brought her close. “John, this is a bad idea. You should probably take me home.”

  “Probably.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  And there it was. He wasn’t asking if she wanted to hang out. If she said no, she would be agreeing to more. To sex. She swallowed hard. He wouldn’t ask again, she felt sure.

  “No, I’d rather stay,” she said, resting her cheek on his chest, rubbing it against his sweater, soft, cashmere maybe. “I think I’d like to hang out here with you.”

  He tipped her chin up. “I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening.”

  Neither could she.

  When his lips met hers, she couldn’t think of anything at all.

  Chapter Six

  Had anyone ever smelled better? Lilacs, John thought, and something spicy like carnations. And her lips parted under his as if she’d been waiting forever for him to kiss her. All day, he’d had the hardest time keeping his touches casual. He didn’t think he’d missed an opportunity to help her in or out of the car, steadying her on stairs, opening doors for her so he could guide her through.

  He’d never been into chivalry before, but it came naturally with Juliana. She was soft and warm and smart. And beautiful. Funny. Sweet. Everything he wanted in a woman. Tasting her mouth again, he lost a little more self-control. She’d said she’d stay over, but did she understand what he’d been asking? That he hadn’t been suggesting the guest room anymore?

  Her arms circled his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, and a little moan came from deep inside her. God. He was only human. Drawing back a little, he murmured, “If we don’t stop, we’ll never eat dinner.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, grazing his lips with hers. “I’m used to you starving me.”

  He held her away from him, searching her face. A dimple dented
her cheek as she gave him an innocent smile. “Starving you?”

  “Yes, people have started to notice, you know. At the boutique they cast me pitying looks when you ate my share. But it’s okay. I’d rather be your sex kitten anyway.”

  Turning her away from him, he gave her fanny a sharp whack. “Starving sex kitten, huh? I have half a mind to eat while you watch.”

  “Again?” She sighed. “Lucky I carry granola bars in my purse to eat when you’re not looking.”

  “You do?” He grimaced. He did keep eating everything. What a pig. “I don’t know what to say.” They’d had several business lunches in the conference room where she’d come and gone, but he didn’t think she’d eaten anything. Any of the catered food left untouched always made its way to the kitchen where the staff finished it off, but that wasn’t what he wanted her to do. She should eat with him. So he could admire her across the table. In two weeks as his PA, even while training, she’d made such an impression on him he felt guilty keeping her in that position when she should be negotiating deals on her own.

  “John, are you okay?” She searched his face, one hand on his chest. “I was kidding.”

  “No…I’ve treated you like a second class citizen. Sex kitten would be a promotion.”

  “Is that a company position? Maybe I applied for the wrong one.”

  “Let’s just eat.”

  She stomped her foot. “Dammit, I insist on being promoted to sex kitten right now.”

  Looking at her there, her blue eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and hands on her hips, he lost interest in eating. “We don’t normally promote so soon after hiring.”

  The corner of her lip quirked, and the dimple deepened. “Make an exception.”

  He held out his hand. “My bedroom is this way.”

  Juliana let him tangle their fingers together and lead her out of his den and back to the staircase. Step by step, they climbed, stopping to kiss and shed articles of clothing until by the time they reached the top landing, he was in boxer briefs and socks and she wore only a delicate black lace bra and matching boy shorts that enhanced her pale skin. John bent to press a kiss to the top curves revealed by the demi bra, breathing in the floral spicy scent and a hint of arousal that made his head spin.

  If he wasn’t careful, they’d never make it to his bedroom at least thirty feet away down the hall. Sliding a hand under her knees, he scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way. “I don’t want our first time to be on the Persian runner.”

  “First time… No, we don’t want to ruin your beautiful rug,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest.

  “I don’t care about the rug. It’s rough, and I don’t want to scratch up your beautiful, creamy skin. I’ll buy a softer carpet if we want to do it in the hallway.” He nuzzled her throat and stumbled when he lost track of his feet. “Sorry about that. You distract me.”

  “John, set me down before you strain something.”

  “No,” he said, shouldering his bedroom door open but not turning on any lights. “Not until we get to my”—he laid her down on his gold and black spread—“bed.”

  “Look at the stars.” She lay on her back, staring straight up. Turning her head to the side, facing the windows, she gasped. “And the Bay. This is so gorgeous. How do you ever sleep in this amazing place?”

  He smiled down at her. “First, as you’ve figured out, there are not a lot of nights like this in San Francisco. Lying here and watching the stars in the heavens or the occasional big yellow moon is a treat I don’t want to miss. And the fog…pretty magical, too. But if I want it all to go away for some reason, look.” He turned a dial next to the massive ebony headboard, a gift from a South American ecologically-sound wood company he’d financed, and the windows all went dark. “See?”

  “Make it come back, please?” she begged. “I want you to make love to me under a million billion stars, while ships go in and out of the harbor. I want you to make love to me in your castle.”

  He complied with her request. “It does feel a little like a turret sometimes. Juliana, I want to make love to you here and downstairs and on the terrace and in the pool—”

  “You have a pool up here?” she asked, breathless.

  “On the upper terrace. And I want to make love to you on my desk at the office.” Settling beside her, he twined a lock of hair around his finger. “And at your apartment.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet. But after this place, wouldn’t you feel like you were slumming?”

  Gathering her to him, he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. “At your home? Never. Not if you’re there.” He kissed her lips and shut off all conversation for the moment. This time, the tip of her tongue emerged to draw his into her mouth, and they kissed for a while, his heart beating a ragged tattoo against her full, lace-clad breasts. Leaving her mouth behind, he kissed the hollow of her throat where her pulse fluttered as erratically as his did. He unhooked the clasp at her back and eased the straps of her bra off her shoulders, freeing her breasts. In the starlight and the bit of city light that made its way from far below, she was a study in black and white, her eyes gray instead of blue, her skin pale and smooth. Her nipples tipped in darkness. He stroked his thumb over them, watching the peaks tighten in response before dipping his mouth to taste them. Sucking gently, he listened to her breathing become shallow, her heart speed up again.

  While nibbling and lapping and sucking her nipples, he skated his hand down her belly, appreciating its womanly curves, working a finger into the lacy shorts. She was silky smooth, and his patience for the dance they’d been sharing for weeks ran thin. Grasping the waistband of her panties, he worked them off her hips and down her legs, over her feet. He took a moment to divest himself of his boxer briefs and socks—amazing she hadn’t commented on his forgetting to take the socks off—before lying on his side and dipping his fingers between her legs. Moist and swollen, so ready for him.

  He reached into the bedside drawer and withdrew a condom. As he tore open the package, she said, “Can I do that for you?”

  He glanced up, startled. In the silence between them, everything had seemed surreal. Like the fairy tale castle she’d called his home. Speaking made it all more real, more focused. Her hair spread around her on the white pillowcase, her eyes were half shuttered, drowsy looking, and her lips parted, full and rosy, swollen from their kisses. He handed her the foil square. “If you like.”

  She reached inside and pulled out the rolled condom, looking at it as if she’d never seen one before. Maybe she was on the pill or something? But even if she was, condoms were always a good idea. Until a couple was exclusive and sure of good health.

  The idea of her being anything but exclusive with him sent a bolt of rage through his limbs. He could hardly make demands in that moment, but he had to know. “Did you leave a boyfriend or something behind, Juliana?”

  She blinked at him. “Of course not. I wouldn’t be here with you if I was involved with someone else.”

  He’d hated breaking the moment, but the surge of elation made it worthwhile. “Me, either.”

  Juliana sat up and held the condom over his erection. Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth in her concentration as she rolled it slowly over the head and down his shaft.

  He gritted his teeth. When she made to smooth the latex, he stopped her. “Touch me one second longer, and I’m going to come right now.”

  “Okay.” She eased her fingers off and lay back on the bed. “I’m ready.”

  John gave her a funny look. Maybe women didn’t tell guys when they were ready? How was she supposed to know? But she reached for him, and he knelt between her legs, his eyes gleaming. “I’m ready, too. In case you couldn’t tell.”

  She tried to laugh, but she could barely breathe. Finally. Her friends in college, all older than she, had shared their first-time stories, and she’d listened carefully. She wanted to see everything, to remember all the details for her own story. Never to be told, only savored.
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  He had only a few scattered dark curls on his chest, but his penis jutted from a thicker nest, and it seemed really large. The girls all said it hurt the first time, but that after that it didn’t, so she squeezed her eyes closed and waited.

  “Juliana?”

  She peeked at him where he knelt between her legs. “Yes?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “S-sure.”

  He bent and kissed her right on her most intimate spot, and she gasped. She knew all the mechanics, but to have John Felix kissing her, no, more than kissing, doing things with his mouth that made her head spin and her toes curl. This was really happening. She sucked in air and let it out, trying to remember to breathe while all her consciousness focused on the place between her legs where the man whose company she enjoyed above all others, whose touch sent electricity shooting through her, licked and sucked her until she spun out into darkness. When she came down to herself again, he was fitting himself in place between her legs and as he rocked his hips, she gasped. The pain!

  She bit her lip until she tasted copper while he eyed her, a question in his expression. She chose not to answer it.

  And he did not ask aloud.

  Withdrawing, he drove in again, a little harder this time, and then again, and gradually she relaxed and began the climb again. Every time he moved out, he stroked against a place inside her that sent her higher. And higher. In and out, deeper harder. The pain faded, replaced by exquisite pleasure until he joined her, shouting her name while they clung together in mutual orgasm. She had a half second to wonder if it was always like this before they tumbled away into the starry heavens above them, clinging together, his lips clamped to hers in a soul-stealing kiss. She might have blacked out; she for sure lost track of time.

  When she landed, he was gone, and she propped herself up on her elbows. A light in the wall beside the windows flicked out, and he padded barefoot back to her side. The starlight gilded his limbs, and the shadows highlighted his muscled chest and flat abdomen. Somehow, the man found time to work out. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he parted her legs and wiped in between with a warm washcloth. He looked at it, his expression stricken but also something else, something she couldn’t identify.