Kitty Valentine dates a Billionaire

by Dodd, Jillian

  “If you want me to show you what it’s like to play in the backseat of a moving car, I’m all yours. There’s a privacy divider between the front and back for a reason.”

  Dear Lord, he’s beautiful, and when he gets that little growl in his voice, he’s practically irresistible.

  There’s no ignoring the tingling between my legs, where I spent the day imagining Blake firmly planted. For one wild, breathless moment, I want to tell him to raise that divider and put his hands on me, all over me. I’m tired of playing and hinting and fantasizing.

  Still …

  “Maybe we should start off a little slower,” I suggest with a catch in my throat.

  “That can be arranged too.”

  His lips linger on my skin again, and I forget to breathe when our eyes meet. Yes, I want this. I want him. Whenever, wherever—it doesn’t matter.

  It’s probably for the best that we pull up in front of a tall building a few moments later.

  I can hardly believe my eyes once I manage to pry them from Blake’s. “You live on Fifth Avenue? In this building?”

  “You’re familiar with it?” he asks with a wry chuckle before climbing from the car.

  I know by now that he’ll jog around to my side and open the door for me. It gives me just a few seconds to compose myself.

  Yes, I’m familiar with this building. It was refurbished several years back, and the apartments were snapped up in a flash by some of the biggest names in entertainment, tech, commerce. The penthouse, in particular, was famous for its asking price. More than seventy million dollars for over ten thousand square feet, not counting the expansive terrace overlooking the island.

  I know before entering the private elevator that the penthouse is exactly where we’re going.

  “This is so beautiful,” I marvel at the sleek marble floor, the rich, dark wood that panels the walls.

  “It’s the inside of an elevator car,” he reminds me.

  “When you were a kid back in Philly, did you ever imagine that you’d think nothing of a gorgeous elevator like this? That it would be commonplace?”

  I can tell he’s laughing at himself now. “You’re right. Thank you for reminding me. Even I can become jaded.”

  The doors open, and suddenly, I’m staring at the inside of the most mind-blowing apartment I’ve ever seen. I saw photos when the place was up for sale; it was all over real estate news around the time I was searching for my apartment, and, well, a girl can dream.

  But those photos were nothing compared to the real thing.

  “Have a look around,” Blake invites me as he walks across the wood floor, waving me in. “Are you hungry? I can order up anything you want. Anything at all.”

  It’s hard to keep my mouth closed as I survey the room. The floor plan is almost completely open, the outer-facing walls mostly windows, which give a panoramic view of the city around us. There’s a fireplace in the center, the living room furniture arranged in front of it. For such a sleek apartment, the furnishings are downright comfortable-looking. I can imagine getting cozy on the sofa, lost in a book.

  “Hmm?” I ask when I find him staring at me, waiting. “Oh. Yeah. I could eat, sure. But please, whatever you want. You’re the one who’s been on the road all day.”

  “Do you like sushi?”

  “I love it.”

  “Done.” He pulls out his phone and types something in. “While we wait, I’d like to take a shower. Do you mind keeping yourself occupied for a few minutes?”

  “Not at all.” No, there’s plenty to see all around me. “Take your time.”

  Maybe I watch a little too closely as he jogs up the stairs. What can I say? I admire the male figure, and he’s worthy of admiration.

  Boy, oh boy. How does anybody get anything done when they live in an apartment like this? I’d never stop looking out the windows. The city is laid out before me, no matter where I go, lights twinkling against the night sky. It’s breathtaking, awe-inspiring. And to Blake, it’s commonplace.

  The sound of the shower rings out in the back of my mind, and I can hear him singing some tuneless little melody. I can’t help but smile. He’s a man of many talents.

  Talents which, if I play my cards right, I’ll have the chance to explore tonight. My heart just about beats out of my chest at the slightest thought of it, and I raise my hand to my lips to kiss the spot he kissed in the car.

  “You can do this,” I whisper to myself, shaking my hands out and bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. “You can do this. You’re a goddess. A wanton sex goddess. You’re going to rock his world, Kitty Valentine. And you won’t do it in missionary. You absolutely will not, under any circumstances. You’ll be downright brazen. Like an animal finally released from a cage. He won’t know which end is up by the time you’re finished. He might need an IV or something to replenish himself.”

  I catch myself, freezing solid. Blake is right behind me, isn’t he? Of course he heard everything I just said because that’s how my luck runs.

  Only he’s not there. I’m alone, and he’s still upstairs. The shower has stopped, and there’s no more singing, but he hasn’t come down yet. Thank God for small favors.

  A sudden buzzing makes me jump. My head sweeps back and forth as I try to figure out where the noise is coming from. In a moment, I realize it’s the elevator, that somebody’s coming up.

  This is new. What am I supposed to do? I can’t imagine people randomly coming up on the elevator. The front desk staff wouldn’t allow that, would they?

  “Uh, Blake?” I call out, but there’s no answer from upstairs. When did this become an episode of The Twilight Zone? When did I become the last person on earth?

  Luckily, it’s just one of the front desk personnel, carrying an overstuffed shopping bag in each hand. “Mr. Marlin’s dinner order,” the young man informs me, putting the bags on the floor just outside the elevator car.

  “Oh, thank you,” I breathe, laughing a little. “Sorry, he’s up in the shower. Let me get you a tip.”

  “No need. Mr. Marlin makes sure everything’s taken care of.”

  What a cryptic thing to say, and I have no choice but to shrug and accept it and thank the clerk again for taking the trip upstairs.

  “Blake? Dinner’s here.” My voice echoes through the downstairs and, I’d guess, floats up to where my host is getting dressed. At least, I think he is. I haven’t heard so much as a squeaky floorboard.

  Finally, I can’t help myself. I have to tiptoe up the stairs and see what I can see. “Yoo-hoo? Blake? Where’d you go?”

  Just my luck, him having an accident while I’m downstairs, trying to talk myself into being a wanton sexual beast. He could’ve been bleeding out on the shower floor while I was trying to convince myself to try doggy-style.

  Only he wasn’t, and he’s not now.

  No, he’s stretched out across the bed with a towel around his waist, feet still on the floor.

  I’m not sure what’s more interesting. Is it the king-size bed? The ultra-expensive workout equipment in one corner? The bathroom I can see through the open door with a soaking tub positioned right beside the window?

  Or is it the man on the bed, the water still beading on his skin? The muscles—oh Lordy. His body is something I’d expect to see in a museum, carved out of marble. He could make a fortune as a fitness model if he ever got tired of being a media mogul.

  Is that what I like the most? What has the breath catching in my throat?

  No. It’s the fact that he’s fast asleep, snoring softly.

  So much for rocking his world.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Hey, beautiful. Wake up.”

  I don’t wanna. It’s so comfy here, on the sofa, propped up on what feels like a million pillows.

  Crap. Blake’s sofa. Blake’s pillows. Blake’s penthouse.

  My eyes fly open a split second before I bolt upright, which is a real shame—that whole bolting thing—since Blake is leaning over me. Stars
explode behind my eyes when our heads collide.

  “Oof!” he groans, reeling backward with one hand over his forehead. “Wow. Remind me never to wake you up again.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I babble, holding my head the way he’s holding his. “I didn’t know you were so close. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He’s grimacing though as he rubs where I smacked into him. “I should be the one apologizing to you after falling asleep. It’s unforgivable.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” I grin. “You were exhausted.”

  He looks down at the sofa, where the book I was flipping through before falling asleep is still open. “At least you found a way to keep yourself occupied.”

  “Your library is amazing.”

  And it is—floor-to-ceiling books along three walls. A bookworm’s wet dream, in other words. Now, there’s something I could write an erotic scene about, no problem.

  “Thanks. I’m a big reader.”

  “I guess you have to be.”

  It’s still dark outside, I note. “What time is it?”

  “Just after ten. Neither of us slept very long. I really am sorry.” He looks around. “I guess dinner’s a no-go?”

  “I put it in the fridge. It’s only been a couple of hours. Do you think it’s still good?”

  “Only one way to find out. No, no, let me,” he urges when I start to get up. “I’ll bring it out to you. Wine?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  I manage to smooth out my hair and check my face for any dried spit or eye crusties or anything like that while he walks to the kitchen, barefoot. He’s only wearing a pair of soft cotton pants. No shirt. The gods are smiling upon me.

  Which is why looking like death warmed over after my little nap is a harrowing thought.

  Soft jazz music starts coming from someplace, making me jump for the second time tonight. Where the heck are the speakers? I can’t see them anywhere, but there’s definitely a soft melody flowing through the living room when Blake brings me a glass of white wine, leaving the bottle and a second glass on the coffee table before scooting back to the kitchen.

  “I figured we could still have some good music, like I was hoping to enjoy with you last night.”

  “This is nice.” I smile over my shoulder, and it is. Better than nice. The sort of thing a girl could get used to without much effort.

  “Just nice, huh?” He’s smiling as he brings the food in, cartons stacked one on top of the other and tucked under his chin to keep everything from falling to the floor. “I’ll have to try a lot harder then.”

  “Not that I would stop you”—I smirk—“but you know what I mean. If I called it extraordinary, I’d sound like an idiot. Even though it is.”

  “And you wouldn’t. You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve gotta stop that.” He plops right down on the floor across from me and starts opening the containers. “I don’t think you could sound like an idiot if you tried.”

  “Now, I know you’re only trying to butter me up.” I laugh. “You don’t have to make up for falling asleep. I totally understand.”

  “You’re tough.” He hands me a pair of chopsticks—nice, shiny, not the sort a restaurant sends with their food. His own, I’d guess.

  “Is this actual rose-gold gilding?” I ask, examining them. The wood looks like ebony too.

  “Mmhmm. Not that it makes the food taste better or anything like that, but what the hell?” He sweeps his bare, muscular arms over the table, where an array of sushi, sashimi, and various rolls await. “Dig in. Let me recommend this roll right here.” He points to a large, colorful one.

  “What is it?”

  “Spicy yellowtail, tempura shrimp, and banana.”

  “Stop it.”

  “I’m serious!” He takes a piece for himself, popping the whole thing in his mouth at once.

  Judging by the way his eyes close, I’m guessing it’s quite good. I also wonder what a girl has to do to put that look on his face because I sure would like to.

  “Okay. I’ll try anything once.” I take a piece and manage to somehow fit it into my mouth. “Oh. Oh my.”

  “Right?”

  “It shouldn’t work, but it does!”

  “I know. Crazy. Just goes to show you, don’t judge a roll by its ingredients. Sometimes, everything works together and gives you something way better than the individual parts.”

  “You’re a pretty smart guy.” I take a piece of salmon sushi. The fish practically melts in my mouth, and the rice is perfectly seasoned. “This is incredible.”

  “I wish we could’ve eaten it when it was a little fresher. For future reference, you’re more than welcome to wake me up when I fall asleep.”

  Future reference, huh? That bodes well. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Because a man would have to be out of his mind to make a mistake like that twice in a lifetime.”

  Our eyes meet, another piece of salmon on its way to my mouth. I pause with the chopsticks midair. “It wasn’t that big a deal, you know,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”

  “A beautiful woman in my home, waiting for me downstairs? And I fall asleep? I could’ve kicked myself when I woke up. For a minute there, I thought you must’ve gotten tired of waiting and gone home.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “You had every right to, but I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t try to steal anything either, if you’re worried about that.”

  He coughs hard, eyes bulging.

  Great. I just killed one of the wealthiest men in the world before I even had the chance to get him into bed. “Sorry!”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay,” he manages to say once the sushi is out of his throat. “It’s just that I never thought you did. The things you come up with.”

  “Are you kidding? If I were you, I’d always worry about somebody trying to steal from me.”

  “That’s why I employ people I trust, who make sure such things won’t happen.” He takes another piece of that stellar banana roll and pretends like he’s shooing my chopsticks away when I go for one too. “I said try it, not take all of it.”

  “Hilarious.” I stick my tongue out at him before popping the strange, heavenly concoction in. “Gosh, that’s good. This is all so nice.”

  “I’m glad I could manage to at least partly salvage what I’ve messed up.” He puts down the chopsticks and looks at me from across the table, serious now. “I can’t stop messing things up. It seems like, no matter how I try, something always goes wrong. I live a complicated life. There aren’t many women willing to put up with the life I lead, the schedule I keep.”

  “I understand.”

  At least he sees it anyway.

  “Yes, but understanding only runs so deep and only for so long. I find a woman I really like, somebody who makes me laugh and helps me stay grounded. She’s beautiful and talented and smart. And all I can do is screw things up.”

  “I hope you’re not talking about me because I don’t think you’ve screwed up. Not even a little.”

  He’s smiling softly as he rises from the floor in one fluid motion. His body is a work of art all right, and he moves with fluid grace. “Come here,” he murmurs, holding a hand out.

  I stand in front of him and put a hand on his bare shoulder as he slides an arm around my waist. He takes my right hand in his, firmly clasping it and holding it between us. “I just have to dance with you. I’ve been wanting to for days, ever since I had the idea of taking you out this weekend.”

  Can he feel how fast my heart is racing as we sway back and forth, slowly and gently in time with the rich, sensuous piano coming from those invisible speakers? His skin is smooth and warm, and I want nothing more than to sink my fingers into the muscles of his shoulder. His mouth is close to my ear, his breath tickling my skin and bringing goose bumps up all over my neck.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Not just physically—I mean, you’re ravishing, but
you’re much more than that. I wonder if you’ll ever figure out how special you are.” His hand presses against my back, fingers working against the thin fabric of my blouse and just about undoing me.

  My skin flushes hotter than before, about bursting into flames when his lips find my earlobe. My nerves are sizzling, my head spinning. Is this really happening? I wish there were something I could say, something clever or even seductive. I’m supposed to know so many words, right?

  There’s nothing I can say, nothing that would make any sense with everything rattling around in my overheated brain. I can only turn my head slightly, so my lips graze his chiseled jaw. He pulls his head back a fraction, putting us face-to-face.

  God, I can’t breathe. There might as well be nobody in the world but the two of us as we sway together, my body pressed against his. I’m falling, falling, but he catches me when our mouths meet.

  There’s no hesitation now, the arm around my waist tightening before lifting me off the floor. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, letting him carry me to the sofa where he sits with me in his lap.

  “What about dinner?” I whisper as his mouth moves over my jaw, down my throat.

  “We can order more,” he growls before capturing my mouth again and doing things with his tongue that ought to be illegal, but I’m glad they’re not because, oh jeez, I’ve never been kissed like this in my life.

  Now, I can dig my fingers into his muscles, and thank heavens for that. I hold on to his shoulders for dear life, gripping him hard as my hips start moving on their own. He holds my hips, pulling down, driving his covered length against me while we make out like horny teenagers.

  “Kitty …” he groans before burying his face in my neck, breathing hard, kissing and tasting while I run my fingers through his hair.

  This is wild, perfect, on the verge of being something truly great.

  Until …

  I open my mouth.

  And burp.

  Loudly.

  Like, there’s some serious bass in it, and it echoes off all the hard surfaces in the penthouse until it sounds like a drunken longshoreman just passed through.