Hunter ignored him, picking the cards up off the table and shuffling. He handed the deck over to Jonathan. “Your deal.” He kept his voice gruff, even though he was pretty sure his face was burning with embarrassment. Was he that obvious?
He glanced over at Jonathan. The other man was chewing on his cigar, his brow creased as if something troubled him. He shuffled and then tossed a chip into the center pile. “Everyone ante up.”
Jonathan didn’t look in Hunter’s direction. Good.
Hunter glanced over at Logan, his oldest friend. Logan was staring at him with a suspicious gaze.
“What?”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” He tossed his chip into the center of the table and picked up a card that Jonathan threw his way. “Cade’s right. You’re downright cheerful.”
He frowned at Logan. “You’re one to talk. How’s Brontë?”
A grin flashed across Logan’s face. “In a state of crisis. She’s trying to take classes and expand her reading charity at the same time.” He picked another card up off the table and couldn’t keep the satisfied grin off his face. “And she keeps complaining that I won’t let her get any sleep.”
Hunter’s lips twitched with amusement. Brontë had a remarkably stubborn streak when it came to Logan’s bulldozing ways, and it was a good thing. The tiny woman would never let him walk all over her like he did his business partners, and it was good to see Logan so completely confounded and besotted and happy.
“It’s a woman, isn’t it?” Logan said quietly to Hunter. “That redhead you asked Brontë about. Greta?”
“Gretchen,” Hunter corrected, and then couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s the sister of your assistant.”
“Audrey has a sister?” Logan looked surprised, then recognition dawned. “Ah, right, the one Brontë stayed with for a time. Brontë likes her quite a bit.” His tone implied that anyone that Brontë liked, Logan approved of.
“She has two sisters,” Cade added. “Daphne lives out in LA.”
Hunter glanced at Cade. “You know them?”
Cade downed his drink, then shrugged. “Old family friends. We go back to childhood. You in on this hand?”
Hunter barely glanced at his cards, then tossed a few chips on the pile, feeling reckless. “Gretchen wants me to invite a few friends over,” he admitted in a gruff voice. “A party of some kind.”
“Does this mean we’re all invited?” Reese asked with a cocky grin.
“No,” Hunter said with a scowl.
Jonathan glanced at his cards, then folded. “I admit I’m curious to see this sister of Audrey’s.”
“You’ve seen one of them before,” Cade replied easily. “Daphne Petty.”
Hunter had no idea who that was, but Reese seemed impressed. “No way. Daphne Petty? The Daphne Petty? The one in the tabloids constantly?”
“Who’s Daphne Petty?” Logan frowned, then looked over at Hunter as if he’d have the answers. Hunter shrugged.
“An old childhood friend of mine,” Cade said. “And Audrey’s twin. She’s also—if rumor has it—heavily into drugs and alcohol, thanks to her career.”
“Her career,” Logan said blankly. “What career is this?”
“Singer. Pick up any magazine and you’ll probably see her sloppy drunk on the cover,” Reese said. “Holy crap. I never knew. Audrey looks nothing like her.”
Cade grimaced in agreement. “I know. Daphne’s not . . . well. Audrey’s much healthier.”
Hunter thought of Logan’s extremely curvy assistant and drew a blank at her face. All he knew was that she wore her hair in a bun and she was brisk and efficient and didn’t ask many questions.
She was nothing like Gretchen in that aspect, he thought with a hint of a smile touching his mouth again. Nosy, too inquisitive Gretchen who didn’t know the meaning “mind your own business” if it bit her on the chin. But he kind of loved that about her.
“Ah, hell,” Jonathan said in disgust. “He’s grinning again. Whatever it is, he’s got it bad.”
“Now I’m definitely coming to this party,” Reese said.
“You weren’t invited,” Hunter pointed out, glaring. The last person he wanted around Gretchen was Reese, the epitome of a ladies’ man.
“You’re in the Brotherhood, Hunter,” Cade said with a slap on the back. “You know our rules. We’re all invited. Even the obnoxious ones like Reese.”
Hunter grunted in resignation. The teasing died back down again and they continued on for hours.
When they were ready to leave, Hunter pulled Logan aside. “I need your advice.”
“Oh? On what?”
“On Gretchen. I want to do something for her. Something that shows her how much I appreciate her.”
Logan gave him a wry smile. “Don’t buy her a diner.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just something I did for Brontë that backfired in my face. What did you have in mind?”
“Something . . . thoughtful. Not jewelry. She’s not a jewelry type.”
“Well, you dodged a bullet there,” Logan said. “Then again, jewelry makes it easy. Brontë’s not much of a jewelry type, either. Gets mad every time I try to buy her a necklace. The trick is you have to find something that you can do for her that no one else can.”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know what that would be. Property? It’s too much. Cars? Anyone can give her a car.” He didn’t share that he didn’t want to give her a car because he was afraid she’d spend her days driving away from the house. He liked that she was stuck there with him.
“You said she likes books, right?”
“She’s a ghostwriter.”
Logan shrugged. “There’s your answer. Something with books. Is she successful?”
Hunter considered this. “I don’t know. She writes astronaut books or some such.” It had seemed like an odd match to him—his silly, outspoken Gretchen writing overly masculine space pulp, but he didn’t question it.
“So buy them. Buy all of them.” Logan considered a new cigar, then put it down with a grimace. “I shouldn’t smoke this. Brontë doesn’t like the smell.”
“Buy all of them?” Hunter asked.
“All the books. Get her on the bestseller list or something. That would probably make her happy.”
The more Hunter thought about it, the more he liked the idea. “I’ll get Eldon on it right away.”
***
Hunter arrived home late that evening, his head slightly muzzy from cigar smoke and alcohol. He’d lost a fortune tonight at the table, but he couldn’t stop grinning. For the first time, he was able to smile when Reese told one of his ridiculous stories about women. He’d simply ignored comments about his own relationship without feeling excluded by the group.
For the first time, he didn’t feel like a freak amongst his friends—the scarred, lonely virgin.
Scarred, yes, but lonely and virgin? No longer.
He took off his tie and tossed it to the ground, then shrugged off his jacket even as he headed down the hall to his bedroom. His cock grew hard at the thought of Gretchen waiting for him in his bed. Gretchen, soft with sleep, her bright red hair spilling across his pillow. Would she be naked, waiting for him? Her legs slightly open? He imagined dipping his fingers between them and stroking her awake, thinking of the soft, aching cries she’d make when he touched her there.
Suddenly his pants were too constricting. He stripped off his clothes while moving steadily across his room to his bed.
The room was dark, but he knew—he just knew—that Gretchen would be there waiting for him. A faint light shone through the open window, and in the moonlight he could see a rumpled mess of covers in his normally immaculate bed. On one side of the bed, a small figure was curled up in sleep.
He moved toward the bed, heart aching at the s
ight. Such a wonderful, exquisite sight—he’d never thought to have so much. He thought he would always be alone, reviled. Now, he had a woman—such a perfect woman—waiting for him to come home so he could make love to her. Was life ever so sweet?
He noticed something shiny on the nightstand and moved to touch it. It was a crinkle of packets, and Hunter laughed. An entire strip of condoms had been left at the bedside. Wishful thinking indeed.
She sighed and he noticed she was wearing one of his shirts. Ah. His cock ached even harder at the sight. Hunter ripped one of the condoms out of the package and rolled it onto his cock, then moved to the edge of the bed.
Gretchen’s legs were bare and smooth, gleaming pale in the moonlight. They were slightly parted as she slept, revealing the cleft of her ass. No panties. Was she wearing anything other than his shirt? He groaned at the thought.
She rolled over and faced him, rubbing her eyes. “Hunter? Is that you?”
“Gretchen.” His voice was hoarse with need, even as he moved over her and began to kiss her jaw and throat. “I need you so badly.”
She moaned lightly, her legs spreading underneath him. “I was having dirty dreams about you,” she said. “Am I wet?”
He reached between her legs and groaned at the feeling of her. “Very wet.”
“Then come inside me,” she said in a soft, delicious voice.
Hunter didn’t need further encouraging. His fingers searched for the slick, warm opening and dipped a finger in as if to reassure himself that she was ready for him. He positioned his cock there and sank deep, freezing at her sharp intake of breath.
“Ah, that’s so good,” she breathed. Her legs wrapped around his hips and locked behind him. “Fuck me hard, Hunter.”
He groaned, her words making him frantic with need. He wouldn’t be able to go slow. Not this time, not with her so sweetly willing. He thrust, rough and hard, and then couldn’t stop himself. Over and over, he thrust into her, every rocking push forward shoving them across the bed. Her soft whimpers of pleasure became deep, wild cries, and her nails dug into his back.
“Hunter, oh, God, Hunter. Take me deep.” She raised her hips and lifted her legs a little, pushing them higher up his sides. “Keep pushing forward.”
He did, the force of his next thrust pushing her knees to her breasts.
She cried out in pleasure. “More!”
He did, giving her more. Every ounce of his being was determined to pound deep into her, to make it as good for her as it was for him—tight, hot, and oh so wet.
Her pussy seemed to shiver all around him, and then she cried out in surprise. “Oh! I’m coming!”
He exploded then, as if her orgasm had given him permission to release. With a sharp cry, Hunter came into her, clenching deep inside her pussy.
After a long moment of recovery, he rolled off her and stripped off the condom, tossing it into a nearby wastebasket. Then, he returned to the bed and pulled her close, unable to stop kissing her soft, perfect skin everywhere—the curve of her exposed shoulder, her neck, her hand, her dainty fingers.
“Mmm, did you miss me?” Gretchen asked sleepily, her backside snuggling up against his front. “It was a long evening without you.”
“I hope you got a lot of work done,” Hunter told her.
“Eh.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic.
“That’s too bad,” he told her, and bit lightly at her earlobe, a small move that he was starting to figure out that she enjoyed very much. Her sucked-in breath confirmed it. “I don’t plan on letting you get much sleep tonight.”
“Don’t you?” she asked, her voice a mixture of playfulness and sleepiness. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Not when I’m around you.” His fingers slid to her nipple and he caressed it, eliciting a moan from her. “You bring me back to life.”
It was true. He felt alive when he was with her. Nothing else mattered anymore—his face, his loneliness—nothing. All that mattered was what Gretchen thought of him.
For the first time in his life, Hunter Buchanan was in love.
***
Gretchen paced in the library, her hand pressed to her forehead. “No. I promise. I need my apartment. I really do. I’m just doing a project on location at the moment.”
“Your rent is one week overdue, Ms. Petty,” her landlord said into the phone. “And we haven’t seen your check.”
“What if I give you a check today?” Gretchen kept her voice bright and cheerful. “I’ll call a taxi and head into the city. I’ll give you a check and I can date it for next week. I should have my contract payment by then.”
“Next week? Your rent was due last week.”
“I know! But I have the payment. I can pay the rest of the entire year with my next check, which should be in any day now. I promise. I can get my agent on the line if you don’t believe me, and she can confirm the dollar amount.”
“Your contract with us states that rent is due on the first. Not when you get paid.”
“I know. It’s just—”
There was a knock at the library door and Eldon came in, giving her a dour look. “You have a guest.”
“I . . . what?” She looked at him in surprise.
“A guest,” he enunciated, exaggerating each syllable as if she were some sort of nitwit. “A visitor.”
“Um, okay.” Into the phone, she said, “Can I call you back in five minutes?”
Her landlord hung up.
Well, shit. Surely they couldn’t change the locks in the next five minutes. She’d just call back after she got rid of whoever this was and explain that she could pay a big penalty fee if they’d just give her another week or so. Gretchen pocketed her phone and followed behind Eldon, who was already heading back down the hall.
Cooper stood in the front lobby of Buchanan Manor, a box in his hands. He was staring at the lofting ceilings and spiraling staircases of the entryway as if he’d just walked into a foreign land. It kicked her amusement into high gear. Had she looked as bug-eyed as he did when she’d walked in for the first time? How funny. “Cooper, what are you doing here?”
He lit up at the sight of her and set the box down. “Hey, Gretchen. There you are.” He held his arms out for a hug.
She moved into them and patted his back, returning the hug awkwardly. At any other time, she would think nothing of his hug. Now that she knew he was in love with her? It made things . . . strange.
“Audrey said you were having a hard time with your project. She said you’re behind on your deadline and was going to bring you a few things to help out. I told her I wasn’t busy and I’d stop by, and I thought I’d bring you a little care package from the Cuppa while I was at it.”
Had he held the hug for a little longer than was necessary or was she imagining things? Gretchen pulled out of his arms and smiled. “You’re a good friend, Coop. Did you bring me the brownie fudge mocha latte flavoring I love?”
“Of course.” He chuckled and picked up the box again, handing it to her. “You look great, by the way. How are you doing?”
“I’m awesome, of course,” Gretchen said cheerfully, juggling the box. “You want to come hang out in the kitchen for a bit?”
“I wouldn’t mind a coffee,” he said, and took the box from her. “Here, let me get that for you.”
She refused to release it, fighting annoyance. “I can carry my own boxes, Coop.”
“Yes, but men carry things for ladies.”
She snorted. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
He laughed at her teasing, throwing his hands up. “Fair enough. At least I tried.”
The box was deposited on the kitchen counter, and Gretchen put a pot of coffee on. When it was brewing and Cooper had taken a seat at one of the stools at the kitchen island, she opened the top of the box, peeking in. There were two smaller boxes in
side, one with the Cooper’s Cuppa logo. She reached for the other, glancing at Cooper. “This is from Audrey?”
He nodded, though he couldn’t stop staring at their surroundings. “I can’t believe you’re staying here for an entire month. It’s like a castle.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, setting the box down and pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Complete with creepy butler and everything.”
“I swear this could be something out of a movie,” he said with a grin. “Don’t tell me. The owner’s some Phantom of the Opera–style guy intent on sucking the blood of virgins.”
Gretchen spit out her coffee, coughing.
Cooper immediately got up, slapping her on the back. “You okay?”
“Just . . . breathed . . . wrong,” she said, coughing between words. It was kind of weird how close—and yet far away—Cooper had been with his guess.
After all, she was the one intent on the virgins around here.
With a weak smile, she opened the box Audrey had sent. Pink lace and black satin caught her eye and she immediately flipped it shut. Feigning ease, she pushed the box aside. “What did Audrey say she was sending me again?”
“Stress relievers, I think she said. Something to help things along.” He shrugged and sipped his coffee again. “She said you’d know what to do with it.”
It was clear he hadn’t looked in the box. “I have a pretty good idea, yeah.” At his inquisitive look, she lied, “Bath salts.”
“Ah. Girl stuff.”
“Definitely girl stuff.” And before she could giggle and ruin things, she pulled the other box out and pretended to sniff it. “I think I smell cookies.”
He grinned.
She flipped open the lid and sighed with pleasure. “Two dozen? You shouldn’t have.”
“And some toffee dream bars underneath, just in case you want a little variety.”
She pulled out the bags of cookies and smelled the bag of coffee beans that had been included. “You’re awesome, Cooper. I’m sure these cookies aren’t as good as mine, though.”
“They should be. It’s your recipe.” He was watching her with a soft, adoring look on his face. “I’ve missed seeing you, Gretchen. The Cuppa isn’t the same without your smiling face.”
Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL) Page 16
