Bad Billionaires Box Set

by Elise Faber

  “Oh.” She sucked in a breath and pushed down her disappointment. It was only a book. There would be others. “Did it go for a lot?”

  “Over two thousand.”

  Kay’s eyes widened. “Really? Well, at least they got their money’s worth.”

  “Yeah.” He took her hand. “Do you want to go back to the party?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay.” Garret tucked her palm into the crook of his arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “I took an Uber.”

  His lips twitched. “I’m grasping at straws here. So, should I call you an Uber or do you want a ride home?”

  Kay shook off her disappointment. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just a mixture of bummed about the book and shook up from being trapped in a bathroom stall for . . .” She paused. “How long exactly?”

  “Close to an hour.”

  “Shit.”

  He snorted. “Literally.”

  “Garret!” But then she was laughing, too, and by the time they both stopped, she felt better. “Thanks,” she said. Her hand still rested on his forearm, and she gave the hard muscle a squeeze.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Did you bring a coat?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I just need to get the ticket out of my—” She smacked her forehead. “My purse! I’m an idiot. I forgot I left it with—”

  Garret held it up.

  “She got pulled away from the table. I promised to keep it safe.” He pretended to model it for a few seconds and had her in hysterics. “I think it goes with my outfit, don’t you?”

  She patted his arm. “Only a truly secure man would say that.”

  “You know it.” He handed her the purse then steered them toward coat check. “Let’s grab your jacket, and I’ll drive you home.”

  “That sounds great.”

  Her coat felt a little heavy when she put it on, but she attributed it to exhaustion from her crazy evening. First Garret, then the bathroom, and now the multitude of sparks flying as he drove her home.

  He held her hand, stroking little circles on the back of her wrist as they drove. Bolts of pleasure shot up her arm and then down. Straight down between her thighs.

  Yup, she was getting hot from a simple caress.

  Thus was the power of Garret Williams.

  He regaled her with a few more tales but didn’t take over the conversation. For as much as he spoke, he seemed to make sure she talked twice as much, and his questions were interesting and fun, ranging from thoughtful to simple small talk.

  She’d answered everything from “Where do you come up with your character names?” to “What’s your favorite thing to binge right now?” to “What did your parents do growing up?”

  Her answers had been: she had a master list of character names she added to every time she heard a good name, Killing Eve, and school teachers, respectively.

  “Star Wars or Star Trek?”

  She slanted her eyes at him, felt her lips twitch and then they both said, “Star Wars” at the same time.

  He laughed, brushed his fingers along her wrist again, and her breath caught.

  Garret was . . . well, he was being the perfect date.

  Of course, he was also spinning a web around her, drawing her in, tugging her close—

  Or maybe that just what her body wanted.

  Or her brain.

  Shh, her mind said. Don’t ruin this for us.

  Apparently, all of her wanted Garret and she couldn’t just chalk it up to hormones. Nope. He was smart and funny and kind, and the hug after he’d rescued her from the bathroom hadn’t been nearly enough contact.

  Damn Heather for her matchmaking skills. If she liked Garret and went out with him then she’d never hear the end of it—

  And now Kay was grasping at straws to distance herself.

  Because she was scared.

  Because she really liked him.

  Ugh.

  “Take a right at the signal,” she said softly.

  As though sensing she was going around in circles in her mind, Garret just nodded and then silently followed the rest of her directions until he was pulling into her driveway. She owned a house south of the City and though it was ridiculously small—she mentally shook her fist at the price of Bay Area real estate—Kay was very proud of it. The little Craftsman had a wide front porch that was dotted with pots of hardy flowers she’d somehow managed to keep alive.

  And considering her black thumb, that was saying something.

  “Thanks,” she said softly and then bit her lip, unsure what to say and suddenly nervous.

  “This place is great,” he said, staring at her house. “Is it blue or gray? It’s hard to tell in this light.”

  Her lips curved, and she relaxed. “It’s blue-gray. Do you”—she sucked in a breath—“do you want to come in?”

  There.

  That might have been the bravest thing she’d ever done with a man. Inviting him into her house and not even under the guise of a nightcap. She wasn’t necessarily the type of girl to sleep with someone after a date or two, however good or bad they were. But with Garret, she thought she could be.

  Quiet filled the car, and Kay felt her cheeks heat.

  Chocolate eyes locked onto hers, desire in their depths, and yet he didn’t move to get out of the car.

  His expression went rueful. “I want to come in, but I’m not going to. I consider myself on probation after our first date.”

  “Probation?” she asked, head tilting to study him. A mix of relief and disappointment coursed through her, which told her he was probably right in his decision to not come in. Yes, she wanted him, but yes, there was also a part of her waiting for the asshole to reappear.

  It was just too soon.

  He cupped her cheek. “You need time to get to know me.” One half of his mouth curved. “The not jerky version.”

  “How long do you propose this probationary period to last?”

  “Hmm. Three months should do it?”

  Her heart jumped. Three months? He was considering—

  Fingers on her wrist again. “Will you go out with me sometime next week?”

  “I’d like that.” She reached into her purse and handed him her card. “Here’s my email.”

  “No phone number?”

  She shook her head, reached for the handle. “We’ll work up to it.”

  A grin that made her thighs clench. “I’m good with working up to things. But”—his eyes scorched her—“I’d like to kiss you goodnight.”

  Her mouth went dry, longing pulsed through her.

  But then his expression transformed, going all innocent as he shrugged. “I mean, if you want to. No big deal.”

  Amusement filled her. “Nope. No can do, bucko,” she told him. “You’re on probation, remember?” Disappointment crossed his gorgeous face, and Kay bit back a smile. “But . . . I can kiss you because I’m not the one aboard the paddy wagon.”

  One brow rose. “Paddy wagon?”

  She leaned across the consul. “Shut up.”

  She kissed him.

  From the moment her lips touched his, all was right in the world. His mouth had been slack with surprise, but he quickly recovered, sliding his hands into her hair, tugging her close, angling her head so they fit perfectly together. Kay might have been the one to initiate the kiss, but Garret was the one to own it.

  To own her.

  His tongue slipped inside, tangling with hers. Heat and moisture and . . . fuck but he could kiss good.

  Not proper English in the slightest, and her editor would be appalled at her grammar. But as his hands trailed down her spine and his tongue slid in and out of her mouth in a rhythm that had her seeing stars, all she could think was—

  Good.

  More.

  Naked.

  Now.

  And that was the moment Garret pulled back. He pushed out his door, walked around the front of his car, and opened hers.

 
; He extended a hand, and her desire-addled brain had Kay trailing him mutely to the house. “Keys?” he asked once they’d stopped on the porch.

  She blinked, pulled them out of her purse.

  Garret snagged them from her, unlocked the door. Then he kissed her one more time, slipping a hand underneath her coat, wrapping it around her waist, and pulling her flush against him. His chest hard and his cock . . . well, that was hard, too. She arched, aching to be closer, for the thin layers of her dress and his clothes to disappear.

  His hand slid a little lower, fingertips teasing the top of her ass, before he pulled back with a curse. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart.” And though he was breathing hard, his eyes danced. “Dangerous kisses. Assaulting me with paperbacks—”

  Kay felt her cheeks go red. “I’ll have you know, I’m not normally prone to violence.”

  A kiss to her forehead as he opened the door.

  “I certainly deserved more than the potential risk of a paper cut.”

  He nudged her inside.

  “It’s ok—”

  “Three months,” he said softly and nudged her inside before closing the door, leaving them separated by the planks of wood. “Lock up.” His voice was muffled.

  She reached for the handle. “Garret—”

  “Lock up.”

  Kay sighed loud enough for him to hear, but her lips were curved.

  She locked the door, pulled out her phone, scrolled down to Heather’s number, and shot off a quick text.

  “Garret?” she called as she waited.

  “Yes?”

  Buzz. Buzz.

  Her fingers moved furiously across the keyboard . . . and send.

  “Kay?”

  “There’s my number,” she said.

  “What—” He broke off, no doubt felt the buzz of the text she sent him “Oh.”

  “Consider it supervised release.”

  He laughed, a loud guffaw that resounded through the door and warmed her heart.

  “Goodnight, Garret.”

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  She heard his footsteps as he crossed the porch and made his way down the steps. Then listened to the slam of the car door and the rev of the engine as it started up. Kay was just starting to shrug out of her coat when her cell buzzed.

  Look in your right coat pocket.

  “What?”

  Her hand darted down, felt something hard and rectangular and—

  She pulled out a book.

  The book.

  She opened it, surprised when a note fell out. Scooping it up from the floor, she unfolded it and read:

  Sorry I was late rescuing you. I had something really important I needed to bid on. Heather promised the other books would be delivered next week sometime. I figured you would want to keep this one safe.

  -G

  When had he found time to write her a note?

  But then she smiled, remembered Garret talking to the kid at the coat check stand. He’d been there awhile, longer than it should have taken to just pick up her jacket.

  Sneaky man.

  Wonderful man.

  She held the book to her chest as she typed out a text.

  Thank you. So, so much. Then before he could reply, she added, I think you should be up to unsupervised release now.

  His response made her laugh aloud.

  Two months and twenty-nine days.

  Chapter Seven

  Garret, Two months and twenty-eight days later

  He whistled as he hopped up the stairs leading to Kay’s house then softly knocked on the front door.

  They’d fallen into a pleasant routine over the last few months. During the week, he’d pop over after work and they’d eat dinner together. On the weekends, they would hang out, walk around the city, go to the beach or see a movie. It was funny—in a crazy-because-it-felt-so-right-way rather than a funny-but-weird way—but since the night of the fundraiser they hadn’t gone a day without seeing each other.

  Garret liked that. A lot.

  In fact, he loved it.

  He loved her.

  When his quiet knock wasn’t answered—Garret used his key to let himself in. They’d learned a lot about each other over the last months, and one of the first things he’d needed to grasp—or risk the wrath of his woman—was that if Kay was writing she didn’t like to be interrupted.

  Typically, she’d be waiting for him when he got there, snuggled up in cute pajamas and a glass of wine in her hand as she answered the door.

  But if she didn’t answer the knock, that meant the muse was still talking and it was better for everyone—and most especially him—if he didn’t interrupt Kay while she was working.

  His first—and only—interruption hadn’t been intentional. In fact, he’d been worried when she hadn’t answered her door or her phone. Finally, after multiple rings of the bell, she’d pounded down the stairs, whipped open the door, and he’d learned the hard way to not interrupt the Beast—his teasing nickname for her author persona—at work. No way did he want to endure another round of glaring and grumbling.

  She’d apologized later for being grumpy, and he’d teased her by threatening to put her on probation. But Garret got it. A jarring intrusion while working on something important was bound to make anyone cranky.

  Smiling, he silently let himself into the house, closing and locking the door behind him.

  He’d wait thirty minutes then order a pizza.

  It hadn’t taken him long to understand that the smell of pepperoni tended to lure Kay out of her writing cave.

  Plan in mind, he was mentally patting himself on his back as he turned for the living room.

  Only to stop halfway, his jaw falling open.

  Kay stood on the bottom step, wearing only a pair of underwear and bra.

  Lacy underwear.

  A see-through bra.

  His cock hardened, his pulse jumped, and he didn’t think, just strode over, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her up. Her mouth found his, tongues meeting, twining together, dancing in a pattern they’d perfected over the last months.

  But this? Kay nearly naked in his arms?

  They hadn’t perfected this.

  Probation wasn’t up for another day.

  Yes, he’d been counting.

  Kay broke away, gasping for air as he kissed his way down her neck, trailed his mouth across her collarbone, nipped the top of one breast. She gasped, wound her hands into his hair to hold him in place and so he repeated the action, soothing it with a flick of his tongue before moving to her other breast.

  Then somehow her bra disappeared—or rather, his mind hazed over the specific details of the undressing because suddenly, he had a gorgeous pair of breasts in front of him that he needed to get his mouth on.

  “Yes,” Kay said, tugging him toward one nipple. “Please, Garret. Oh God. Yes.”

  He switched sides as her hands reached for the button on his slacks, fumbling with the little circle until it slipped free and she was able to reach inside his boxer briefs to grip him.

  Stars flashed behind his lids, his hips thrust forward, and he groaned.

  He’d been imagining this for three long months, planning all the things he was going to do to make the night incredible and perfect and unforgettable for his woman. Yes, they’d touched each other, engaged in some seriously heavy petting, but it had all been through clothes. Garret had insisted on it, despite her pleas, despite his near perpetual blue balls, because he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t sleep with Kay until she trusted him completely, whether that took three months or three years.

  They’d spent many nights together, but he hadn’t slept over.

  They’d touched, but not skin to skin.

  They’d kissed, but only from the throat up.

  But last week, he’d finally seen it.

  Kay’s last wall had fallen, the final bit of distance she’d kept between them had disappeared, and Garret knew his patience—and hers—h
ad all been worth it.

  He trusted her like he’d never trusted another person. She knew everything about him, good and bad and in between, and . . . he loved her, more than he’d thought possible to love another person.

  She was his heart. It was as simple as that.

  And, as usual, this beautiful, wonderful, kind woman had surprised him.

  This time it wasn’t assault by novel or confronting him in a restaurant or getting locked in a bathroom stall.

  Instead, she’d decided she’d had enough and was going after what she wanted.

  “Garret?” she asked, stroking him and making every single one of his carefully laid out plans poof right out of his head.

  “Yeah?” he gritted out, clambering for control and not finding it.

  “Can we”—another stroke that had him groaning—“skip the foreplay. Just this once?”

  His eyes shot to hers.

  She shrugged. “We’ve kinda had three months of foreplay already.”

  Good point. Excellent point.

  Garret nodded. “You’re right.” He swept her up into his arms, pounded up the stairs. He was inside her bedroom seconds later, tossing Kay onto the mattress, tearing off his clothes.

  She slipped out of her panties, tossed them aside. Breathtakingly naked, Kay reached for a packet from her nightstand. “Catch.” She lobbed it at him.

  Gotta love a woman with a plan.

  Garret caught the condom, tore it open, and rolled it on. He was on top of her by the next second, spreading her thighs, kneeling in between, and then . . . his heart had him pausing.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  Her eyes softened and she reached up to cup his jaw. “I’m sure.”

  “Good,” he said and thrust inside. “Because I’m keeping you.” Her eyes had flitted closed as he’d pushed home, lips parting on a moan, but at his words she peeled back her lids.

  Warmth. This woman just imparted so much fucking warmth.

  He looked at her and felt . . . everything.

  Possessiveness, desire, heat . . . love.

  She made him want to write sonnets and horrible love songs, to shout her name from rooftops.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Her hand came up to rest on his chest, just over his heart. “I love you, too,” she said, tears making the pretty brown of her irises glitter.