Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL)

by Clare, Jessica

  His dick was already hard again. Just the merest thought of Gretchen and he went wild with need.

  He wanted to see her again. That afternoon, he’d left her on the couch, sated. Was she hurt by his abandonment? Angry? As frustrated as he was? It was suddenly important to him that he talk to her and explain himself. The thought of telling her about his inexperience made his throat go dry, but she deserved to know. It wasn’t her who was the problem; it was him. And he didn’t want her to go another moment thinking that there was something wrong with her.

  Hunter jumped out of bed and tossed on a robe, loosely tying it as he headed down the dark hallways of Buchanan Manor. She’d think he was crazy. Completely crazy. But he needed to talk to her.

  A short time later, he stood in front of her room, hesitating. Her door was shut, no light shining underneath. She was asleep. Should he stay? Go? Gathering his courage, he knocked softly, and when there was no response, knocked louder.

  Gretchen arrived at the door a moment later, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She was dressed in an oversized T-shirt and panties. Her long, curvy legs were bare. “Mmm, Hunter? What’s going on?”

  She was mouthwatering. Soft, sleepy, and gorgeous. The T-shirt slipped off one shoulder, baring her skin, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

  Hunter moved forward, grasped her by the shoulders, and kissed her.

  Gretchen stiffened against him and that horrible, horrible fear crashed through him—fear that she wasn’t attracted to him, fear that she’d be repulsed by his touch, fear that she’d turn him away. But then she pushed into his arms with enthusiasm, sliding her hands around the back of his neck and kissing him.

  It was his first kiss. He realized after she softened in his arms that he had no idea what to do. He’d never kissed anyone before. What if he fucked this up? What if—

  Gretchen’s tongue slicked out and licked the tight seam of his mouth.

  Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. The tip of her tongue might as well have been licking his cock, for it shot a jolt straight there. Hunter groaned, unable to help himself.

  She touched the seam of his mouth again with her tongue, and he parted his lips, fascinated by the aggressive lead she’d taken. Immediately, Gretchen’s tongue swept into his mouth, stroking against his in a coaxing move that made him harden with need.

  “Gretchen,” he breathed against her lips. His cock ached so badly for her that he couldn’t think straight, was losing track of what he’d arrived here to do. “I—we need to talk.”

  Her warm, delicious figure suddenly pulled away. “Talk? That sounds bad.” She tilted her head up at him and gave him a teasing look. “Are you coming here to break up with me?”

  “No.” He wanted to crawl between her legs and settle there again. He wanted to touch her all over. Caress her. Kiss her more. Kiss her for hours. “I just . . . there are things that need to be said between us.”

  “That sounds very serious. Why don’t you come to bed and tell me? It’s cold out here.” She gave a small shiver, and he noticed her nipples were hard, poking against the thin fabric of her sleep shirt.

  The sight made him nearly spend right there. Hunter scrubbed a hand down his face as Gretchen took his hand and led him to the bed. She crawled under the covers and then held them open for him, inviting him in.

  The most beautiful, desirable woman he’d ever seen was inviting him to her bed. Damn, he was a lucky son of a bitch.

  Hunter hesitated but then slid into bed next to her, feeling stiff and uncomfortable and awkward. He didn’t belong here. Any moment she’d tug his robe open, see that the scars covering one half of his face also went down his side, and be repulsed. She’d pull away and then he’d be left wallowing in his own humiliated fury.

  To his surprise, Gretchen reached over and turned off the lamp, setting the room in darkness. “Better?” she asked softly. “You seem uneasy.”

  He was. He was tense as hell and kept waiting for her to come to her senses and realize he wasn’t handsome. “The lights off is better for you,” he bit out. “Less to see.”

  Her warm chuckle in the dark made his cock jump, and he nearly groaned aloud when her hair brushed against his shoulder. Gretchen’s fingers touched his chest, lightly trailing along his chest hair. “I like the way you look.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” he said harshly, a stab of anger flaring through him. He kept his fists clenched at his side, though he wanted nothing more than to touch her. “I know what I look like.”

  “I do, too,” she said easily, and those teasing fingers trailed down his stomach, lightly swirling at his belly button. “You have dark hair and a strong nose, and scars on one side of your face. You’re taller than me, have big arms, and you turn your cheek aside when possible, like you’re trying to shield the world from your face.”

  The breath left him. Stunned, he said nothing for a long moment, waiting. Waiting for her to say something. When she remained quiet, he struggled for something to say, to make her feel the depth of his struggle. “People flinch when they look at me. They turn away when they see my face.”

  “People are assholes,” she said, and he felt her shoulders lift as if she were giving a tiny shrug. “You’re a gorgeous, intelligent man . . . with a few scars.”

  Her finger dipped into his belly button, distracting him from the angry protest about to spill forth. She wasn’t listening to him. She didn’t understand what it was like to be the one who everyone looked away from. To turn people’s stomach with a look of your face.

  To be so utterly alone in the world.

  Of course, he was having a hard time thinking about being alone while she played with his navel, her fragrant hair brushing against his cheek.

  “Won’t you touch me?” she whispered back to him. “You seem so stiff and angry.”

  He ached with his need to touch her. Ached. But something held him back. Fear of . . . what? Rejection? Seeing that look of loathing on her face that he’d seen so many times?

  “I don’t know how to do this, Gretchen.”

  “Hmm?” The teasing lilt was back in her voice. “Don’t know how to touch me?”

  “No,” he said harshly, hating the word even as he spit it out. “I’ve never . . . I don’t . . .”

  “That’s all right, Hunter.”

  “It’s not,” he said roughly, reaching out and daring to touch a lock of her hair that was tickling his chest. It was soft and silky, and his mind immediately filled with images of her hair sliding all over him, her naked body following. His cock reared, and he bit his lip to keep from spilling with need. “It’s . . . not . . . okay.”

  “I know you’re a virgin, Hunter. I guessed as much. You were so young when you were hurt, I just assumed . . .”

  An ironic twist flexed his mouth. Of course she knew. He was fucking obvious as hell. “I just wanted you to know that it’s not you. It’s me. It’s all me, and if I push you away it’s because I don’t know how to pull you close. I’m not . . . I’m not good with people.”

  “I’m not, either,” she said in an easy voice. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I tend to blurt out the first thing I’m thinking.”

  “I like that about you,” he told her honestly. “I like everything about you.”

  “Mmm.” She sounded pleased.

  Encouraged, he closed his eyes and rubbed that strand of hair, imagining the deep red spilling across his palm. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Gretchen. I want to touch you all over. Explore you. Give you pleasure like I’m supposed to, but every time you touch me, I just . . . lose it.”

  “Hair trigger?” she said with a chuckle.

  A knot of humiliation burned in his throat. He remained silent.

  “Hunter. It’s okay. I don’t mind,” she said softly. “Is it me? Am I too forward for you?”

 
“No. I like you forward. It’s just . . .” He struggled to find the right words to say. For the first time, he wished the room weren’t so dark so he could see her face, see the expression in her beautiful eyes.

  “Do you want to explore me? I don’t mind.”

  He went silent. What exactly was she offering?

  “Here,” she said in a low voice, moving his hand to her wrist. She then reached behind her and placed her hand on the headboard. “I’ll put my hands here and I won’t move them. You can touch me how you like, and I promise not to touch you back. We’ll go as slow as you need to. I promise.”

  His breathing grew rapid. Hunter remained still, and when she didn’t move a muscle, he sat up, wishing he could see her in the darkness. But he didn’t want to turn the light on, not yet. He didn’t want to see her flinch. “What should I— what do you want?”

  “Whatever you like. I’m here for the taking.” Her voice was sultry and still contained that delicious hint of fun that made Gretchen so very intoxicating to his senses. “This is your game. You’re in charge.”

  It took him a long moment before he reached out on the bed . . . and discovered a smooth knee. He caressed it, marveling at the feel of her skin.

  “You can go higher, you know. Nothing bites.”

  “I know. I’m just . . . enjoying.” This was his first time to ever touch a woman and truly explore her. He wanted to savor the moment.

  He’d never thought he’d have this. Even in his younger years, when he’d ached with need for a simple touch, he’d never considered hiring an escort for sex. To pay a woman to suck his cock and then watch her flinch when she saw him? No, paying for sex seemed like the worst of both worlds.

  And yet Gretchen had offered herself to him. His hand trailed higher, caressing her thigh.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” she said, her voice light but with a hint of a tremble in it.

  “Are you . . . nervous?”

  “I’m mostly excited,” she said, and he could hear the breathless quality of her voice. “Full of anticipation. My belly—and other parts of me—are tingling with it. I’ve been trying to get you to touch me for a week now.”

  He knew. He just hadn’t had the courage until she’d more or less seduced him in the library. His exploring hand shifted upward and hit the edge of her shirt. He fisted it, drawing the material away from her body, imagining the material pulled taut against her breasts, outlining her nipples.

  Nipples that he had carte blanche to touch. Another surge of need rose through him, and he felt pre-cum sliding down the head of his cock, soaking the front of his boxers. Any minute now, he’d lose control. He had to pace himself.

  Breathing deeply to calm his body, Hunter forced himself to relax.

  “If you want to take that shirt off me, you’re going to have to do it on your own. I can’t help you, remember?” He heard the sound of her fingers drumming on the wood of the headboard as a reminder.

  “I thought I was in charge here?” he bit back.

  “You are. I’m just bossy even if I’m supposed to be all submissive,” she said, her voice saucy. “You can always spank me for being bad, if you want.”

  He groaned at the visual. “Gretchen, please. I need to keep control.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “I’ll just lay here and be quiet. All silent and needy and half-naked, but very willing to be fully naked if given the opportunity.”

  His hand clenched tighter on the shirt, feeling the old fabric give a little. “What if I ripped this off you?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “That would be extremely naughty of you. I’m game.”

  Hunter tugged harder at the fabric and heard a satisfying rip, as well as Gretchen’s intake of breath, followed by a mischievous giggle. Then he was holding the loose fabric in his hand and he tossed it aside.

  “You going to rip my panties next?”

  He flexed his hand, feeling her thigh next to his on the large bed. He didn’t remember what her panties looked like. They’d been swallowed up by the oversized shirt. His mind was suddenly full of mental images of Gretchen in sexy panties, an image he liked very much. “Are they sexy?”

  “Mmm, not really. They’re boy shorts with a bit of lace. I wasn’t really coming here expecting to get laid, so I didn’t pack my best.”

  “I . . . don’t know what boy shorts are.”

  “Then yes, they’re incredibly, ultra sexy.”

  “Then I shouldn’t rip them.” He was starting to get the hang of her teasing. In the darkness, it was a bit easier. Maybe she’d known that, and that was why she’d insisted on the lights being off.

  He reached for her on the bed and, after a bit of awkward fumbling, touched a soft material that crossed over her thighs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to drag them downward, his mind full of thoughts of earlier this afternoon, when he’d done the same thing and buried his face between her legs.

  She’d liked that. God, he’d liked it also, but he had to pace himself. Had to. He intended on making this last long enough for him to get his fill. He might never have such an opportunity again. So he slid them down her legs and tossed them onto the floor.

  His mind was suddenly filled with images of Gretchen, stretched out and naked on the bed. For him. His cock was rock hard in his boxers. She’d said he could explore her. Would it count as exploring if he ripped off his own boxers and sank deep inside her? No. She’d given him permission to touch. No more, no less. He’d take that and be grateful.

  “You’re quiet,” she said.

  “Just thinking.”

  “Uh-oh. Good thinking or bad thinking?”

  “Thinking about you. Good thinking.”

  “Sexy thinking, I hope.”

  “Thinking about where to touch you next.”

  “Wellllll,” she drawled. “I’m told my feet are quite ugly. I’d advise against heading in that direction.”

  “Nothing on you is ugly,” he said, meaning it. He’d change nothing about her.

  “Perhaps you did not see my feet,” she said, amused.

  He reached for her foot, determined to prove her wrong, and cupped her heel. He was immediately distracted by the size of her foot. She was small in comparison to him. His thumb ran along the underside of her foot, and then he slid his fingers over the arch. “Feels lovely to me.”

  She shivered underneath his touch. “Your fingers are ticklish.”

  “Should I stop?”

  “No. It’s not a bad ticklish. Just . . . makes me shiver.”

  Hunter felt an insane urge to lean in and kiss the top of her foot. Would her skin be soft there? He leaned in and brushed his lips over it to find out.

  Her breath whooshed. A soft moan touched his ears. “Oh, okay. That feels pretty good.”

  His fingers slid up her calf, exploring her skin. “You’re very soft, Gretchen.”

  “Mmm, yeah. I’m pretty soft all over, I hear. All those hours at the computer and stuff. It doesn’t exactly lend itself to tons of muscles. Gardening seems to be working for you, though. That’s one amazing six-pack I saw when you got out of the shower.”

  Her endless chatter was light and irreverent, and he suspected she was keeping up a steady stream of conversation to keep him at ease. It was working, too. He chuckled. “I don’t just garden, you know. I have a gym and I work out daily.”

  He felt her shift, and she was suddenly sitting up in the bed. Her hands reached out, patting his shoulders in the darkness. “Holy crap, Hunter. Did you just laugh?” Her searching fingers touched his cheek. “I’m so bummed. I finally got you to laugh and I didn’t get to see it.”

  Hunter stilled under her touch. Her fingers were touching his scarred cheek. The urge to push her hands away was strong, and he had to fight to remain still.r />
  Her fingers hesitated on him. “Does this bother you? My touch?”

  Yes, he wanted to say. He forced himself to swallow and answer instead, “Go ahead.”

  Her fingers lightly touched his cheek again, tracing the line of his jaw, and then moving over the crease of one of his deepest scars. She continued, moving to his mouth and where the line of it extended unevenly. It’d been reconstructed during surgery, and he knew it twisted his smile. That was one of many reasons why he never did smile.

  “I don’t find you ugly, Hunter. No one who knew you could.” Her voice was achingly soft. “If anything, I’m grateful that you have these scars, because they saved you for me—for this moment in time. And that’s a little selfish of me, isn’t it? And yet I can’t help but feel that way.”

  His heart ached with the sweetness of her words. Hunter reached for her, cupping Gretchen’s cheek in his hand and drawing her forward. He wanted to kiss her. Their noses mashed together awkwardly, and he heard her giggle. He didn’t care. He liked that nothing was ever serious to her—it made him feel like there was less pressure on him to be perfect, to do this right. His Gretchen wouldn’t mind.

  Hunter’s mouth slanted over hers, his lips placed in haphazard fashion against her own. It didn’t matter—she still tasted sweet, her lips soft. This time he was the aggressor, sucking on her lower lip until she parted her mouth, and then he stroked his tongue inside.

  She moaned, and her tongue met his. Her hands curled in his hair, and she pressed her body up against him, even as they continued to kiss. Her nipples scraped against his chest, and his breath exploded in a rush.

  She gasped, pulling back from him. “Too much?”

  He groaned. It had almost been. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he took a moment to recover. Her fingers stroked and petted him, trying to comfort. Instead, it was just driving him crazier. He pried one of her hands off him and kissed her palm. “Isn’t this supposed to be on the headboard?”

  “Oooh, right. I got distracted.” She laughed. “Guess you’ll have to spank me, huh?” The bed bounced, and her leg brushed against his. She’d flipped onto her stomach. After a moment, she announced, “Hands are now back in place. Do with me as you will.”