Blame It on the Billionaire

by Naima Simone

  “Not there. The bed squeaks,” she warned on a pant.

  On a growl, he yanked the bedspread off the mattress and threw it on the floor. Then, he sank to it, taking her with him. Once more, he covered her, notching his hips between her legs. She encircled his shoulders with her arms, holding him so close she swore she could feel every muscle, tendon and beat of his pulse against her. They kissed, tongues tangling, breaths mating. He nipped at her lips, chin, throat. And she fought down a whimper when he levered off her. But he only left to sheathe himself, returning, bringing his heavy, delicious weight back to her. Again, she wrapped herself around him, her legs joining the embrace.

  “Please, Gray,” she pleaded. Unashamedly. This might have started with him needing something from her, but she was just as desperate for him. Craving those moments where she didn’t feel so empty. Only Grayson had given her that.

  She buried her face in his neck, drowning in the physical pleasure and refusing to dwell on why Grayson could give her the peace and sense of safety she’d never found with anyone else.

  He slipped a hand behind her neck, cradling her as he pushed inside.

  She waited, breath suspended, expecting him to destroy her with the fierceness of his passion like the two previous times they’d come together. Like his kiss and touch since they’d entered her house.

  But instead, he held still above her, his big body balanced on his forearms, his face hovering over hers. Slowly, so slowly time seemed to stutter, he dipped his head. Brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth. Swept another barely-there kiss to the other side.

  He was still set on destroying her. But with tenderness instead of fury.

  Give me the storm, her mind railed. She could get lost in the storm. Could be tossed and plundered by it. But this gentle rain... This she wanted to let bathe her, creep beneath skin and bone to quench a thirst born of a neglected girl, a rejected woman. A thirst she could usually deny existed.

  Except when he kissed her with rain.

  “What are you offering me, Nadia?” he asked, taking her back to that night of the blackout when he’d asked her the same thing. When their time had been limited to a few short hours of pleasure. Before she’d known this beautiful, powerful, flawed man.

  “Me,” she whispered. “All of me.”

  Her answer was the same—but different. Then she’d added, “for tonight.” This time she didn’t add boundaries, an expiration date, although they had one. And from the narrowing of his eyes and the harsh rasp of his breath, he’d noticed the omission.

  He withdrew from her, slow, deliberate. And thrust back into her with enough power to yank a gasp from her throat.

  “Quiet, baby,” he murmured, covering her mouth with his palm. Bending his head so his lips grazed her ear, he whispered, “I need you to keep quiet for me.”

  Then he consumed her.

  She strained beneath each plunge, taking each piston of his hips as if it were her due, her reward. He rode her, branding her flesh with his cock, marking her.

  And God help her, she let him. She welcomed it.

  And when pleasure crashed over her like a wave determined to drag her under, she welcomed it, too.

  Because he came with her.

  * * *

  “You’re doing this because of your brother, aren’t you?” Grayson murmured.

  Nadia stilled in tracing random patterns over Grayson’s bare chest. They hadn’t moved from the floor, and with her limbs weighted down with satisfaction and lethargy, she didn’t want to. Not with his large body under hers, his warmth radiating against her, and the sheet he’d dragged from the bed covering them.

  He didn’t expound on his question, but he didn’t need to. She understood what he meant by “this.” Her mind waged a battle against her heart over answering. He’d seen her naked, had touched and kissed every inch of her, but somehow admitting this would bare her even more. And she wrestled with giving that to him. What if he used the information against her? Did she trust him?

  In the end, her heart made the decision. And won.

  “Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “But I never stopped wondering why you would agree to my offer when you first turned it down. Given what I’ve discovered about you, money in itself wouldn’t be enough to motivate you. Not when you have an issue accepting even a dress from me. But for your brother? You’ve sacrificed so much for him already. You would do anything for Ezra. Including pretending to be my fiancée. And enduring everything that comes with it.”

  She hesitated, but then nodded against his chest. “Ezra was accepted into Yale. I found out the afternoon after I left your office. He was awarded a partial scholarship, but without going into debt, we couldn’t afford to send him.”

  “The two hundred and fifty thousand,” he said softly.

  “The amount of tuition for four years,” she confirmed.

  Silence fell between them, only the hushed sounds of their breaths filling the room. But he didn’t doze off beneath her. Though his fingers sifted through her hair, tension stiffened his body. The urge to comfort, to soothe whatever bothered him rode her. Gathering her courage, she pushed herself up on her elbow. But before she could question him, Grayson lifted his other hand to her jaw and lightly traced the line of it.

  “I’m ashamed when I look at you,” he said, and she flinched at the disgust in that confession. Disgust that wasn’t directed at her, but at himself. Even in the shadowed confines of the bedroom, she glimpsed the glitter of anger in his eyes. “You awe me, humble me. And I feel guilty for touching you, for taking what you give without reservation, without holding back, when I’m not worthy of it.”

  Stunned, she sat up, uncaring of her nudity. She stared down at him, blinking. Shock, like an ice-cold slap to the face, sent her reeling. “What?” she rasped. “Why would you say that? Think that?”

  That familiar shuttered expression settled on his face as he, too, rose, the sheet pooling around his hips. Anger, sadness and frustration welled within her. She wanted to take a hammer to that mask. Splinter it to pieces so he could never hide from her again.

  Why do you care? Three more months left, and it doesn’t matter.

  It mattered, dammit. It. Mattered.

  “You would give—and have given—everything for your family. Even your mother. You raised your brother, provided for him, and never left either one of them. You forfeited your own education so your brother could have his. You put your dreams on hold to make sure he could pursue his. Putting his needs above your own. That is you. It isn’t me.” He bit off the last words, a muscle ticking along his clenched jaw.

  “When Jason died,” he began again after several seconds, “it became my responsibility to take up where he left off. Chandler International isn’t just a family business—it’s a legacy. A heritage. And a Chandler has always headed it, leading it into the next generation. Without Jason, that falls to me. Even though I’ve received this birthright by default. Even though I’m considered second-best. Loyalty, duty—they come before personal needs. I should be honored to helm this company. But I’m not. I don’t want it. I’m not selfless like you, Nadia.”

  “What do you want, Gray?” she whispered, finding no pleasure in his compliment since he meant it to condemn himself.

  “To be free.”

  She understood the desperation in that quiet statement. How many times had she prayed, begged God to liberate her of her mother’s tainted shadow, of people’s low expectations, of the chains of responsibility?

  “Gray, I love Ezra with all my heart. But I wasn’t ready to be mother and sister to him. I wasn’t ready to drop out of high school to get a job and provide for him. I wasn’t ready to leave childhood—such as it was—behind and enter adulthood way too early. If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have. And there’s no guilt or shame in ad
mitting that. Given the same circumstances that I faced, if I had to do it all over again, I would. Because he was more defenseless than me, more vulnerable. But if I’d been offered a different existence, a kinder one, I would’ve chosen that for both Ezra and me. One where our futures were our own to shape and forge.” She lifted a hand, and it hovered above his thigh before she settled it on him. “You have a choice. That’s power—your power. And you shouldn’t let anyone steal it away from you with their expectations and demands. They can have them, but you don’t have to live by them.”

  A humorless half smile ghosted across his lips. “You make it sound so simple.”

  She released an impatient sound that was something between a scoff and a curse. “Of course it’s not simple. Disappointing those we love and respect is never easy. But...” She squeezed the thick muscle of his thigh. “What are you afraid of?”

  He shook his head, a slight sneer curling the corner of his mouth. “I’m not—”

  “You are,” she insisted, interrupting him. She slashed her other hand through the air. “Forget that macho, masculine bullshit. What are you afraid of?”

  An internal battled waged over his face, in his eyes. Though part of her braced for his rejection, she curled her fingers around his. And only long moments later, when he flipped his hand around and gripped hers, did she exhale.

  “Killing what little pride in me my parents have left,” he finally rasped. The harsh timbre of his confession rubbed over her skin like sandpaper. And she cherished it. “Losing their love. Losing them.” His eyes closed, and the dense fringe of almost absurdly long lashes created deeper shadows. “But just as much, I fear who I will become if I give in and return to Chandler.” He lifted his lashes, and his blue-and-green gaze bore into hers. She met his stare, though the stark pain in it was almost too hard to glimpse. “I fear being trapped.”

  “Gray,” she breathed. On impulse, she climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Cupping his face in her palms, she leaned forward, pressing her chest to his, her forehead against his. “Oh, Gray.” She sighed. Easing back just enough so she could peer down into his eyes, she murmured. “You are...” Everything. “So worthy of your parents’ unconditional love and acceptance. Just because you are their son. But also because you’re beautiful, brilliant, a testament to the same pioneer spirit that started Chandler International, and devoted. Not surrendering to their demands doesn’t make you disloyal. It makes you the man they raised you to be. A man who thinks for himself. Who is successful. Who thrives in difficult situations. Who stands by his commitments, his dreams and his decisions. And if they can’t see that... If they can’t be proud of the person you are, their son, then that’s their issue, not yours. Never yours.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, ordered herself to stay quiet. That she’d said enough. Any more and she might reveal more than she intended. More than she could afford. But then she smoothed her thumbs over his sharp cheekbones. Swept them over his full, heart-stopping lips. Gazed into his beautiful eyes.

  And she couldn’t stop the last words from slipping free.

  “I’ve only known you—truly known you—for weeks. And, Gray, I’m proud to know you,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m proud of you. If no one else tells you, I will.”

  She brushed a kiss over the soft patch of skin beneath his earlobe. Another to the bridge of his nose. One more to his chin. And one to the center of his mouth.

  As if the last caress snapped a tether to his control, his arms whipped around her, hugging her so tightly her ribs twinged in protest, but she didn’t ask him to release her. Instead, she clasped him closer, as well. And when his mouth took hers, she opened to him. Surrendering. Giving.

  Falling.

  Fourteen

  Nadia stepped off the elevator onto her floor Monday morning. Greeting several early arrivals like herself, she made her way to her desk.

  You can’t just walk around smiling like a ninny. Jeesh.

  The exasperated admonishment echoing in her head didn’t dim the wattage of her soft grin at all. Not when the most nonsensical, bright joy glowed in her chest like a lamp on the highest setting.

  All because she’d woken up next to the man she loved Sunday morning.

  Yes, she loved Grayson Chandler.

  More than a little panic simmered beneath her happiness. Somewhere in the last few weeks, she’d ignored every warning to herself. Had broken every promise, disregarded every cautionary tale and fallen for the man she’d sworn would remain off-limits. The last time this sense of excitement, fear and hope had trembled in her heart over a man, the demise of the relationship had nearly destroyed her.

  But Grayson wasn’t Jared.

  Yes, Grayson had initially thrown money at her to get his way, but his motives had been altruistic, to avoid causing further grief to someone he loved. Yes, he was arrogant and domineering, but he was also selfless, generous, a little broken but possessing a beauty even he didn’t recognize.

  So, yes, she’d fallen for him.

  And she couldn’t decide if she was foolish as hell...or taking a wondrous leap of faith.

  She could still feel the phantom press of his body as she dozed after making love—

  She rolled the phrase around in her mind. Had they made love? On her part? Yes. On his...

  Her belly knotted, pulling taut. She didn’t know. Grayson certainly enjoyed sex with her, but did he see her as more than his fake fiancée and occasional bed partner?

  Could he love her?

  That damn, flighty hope shivered inside her again, and she dumped her purse on her desk with one hand and rubbed a spot on her chest with the other. Directly underneath her fingers, her heart beat out a nervous tattoo.

  “Good morning, Ms. Jordan,” Mr. Webber greeted, stopping in front of her desk.

  His gaze dropped to the big rock on her ring finger before lifting back to her face. Ever since it’d become office gossip that she and Grayson were “engaged,” her supervisor had been a little guarded with her. As if unsure how to treat her—a regular employee or his future employer. Either way, there hadn’t been any more requests for weekend work.

  “Morning, Mr. Webber,” she replied with a smile, opening her bottom drawer and storing her bag in it. She reached for her computer and booted it up. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Could you email today’s schedule to me?” he asked.

  She fought not to roll her eyes. Because she sent him the next day’s schedule every evening before she left. He’d had it sitting in his inbox since Friday night. But instead of telling him to check his mail, she nodded and murmured, “Sure thing.”

  Her boss entered his office, and she lowered into her chair, ready to get the day started. Speaking of today’s schedule, she needed to check her phone to see if Grayson had added anything for them to attend tonight. Weeks ago, he’d synched their calendars so if he added an event, the notification would pop up. But first...

  Swallowing an irritated sigh, she opened her email and composed a new message, attached Mr. Webber’s schedule and sent it off. She moved the mouse to the minimize button when a bold message in her inbox from an address she didn’t recognize snagged her attention. Curious, she clicked on it.

  Then frowned. Not understanding what she read. But if the words took moments to sink in, the pictures that populated the email did not.

  Her heart pummeled her sternum so hard it hurt her chest. Air that had moved in and out of her lungs so easily just seconds ago jammed in her throat. Thank God. Because it blocked the pained whimper from escaping.

  She scrolled through image after image.

  Grayson and Adalyn standing close in a hallway, her hand curled into his tuxedo jacket.

  Adalyn touching Grayson’s jaw in a lover’s caress, wearing a sensual smile.

  Grayson with his head bent low over Adalyn, their faces so close
their mouths nearly brushed.

  There were ten in all, revealing a couple caught in an intimate moment.

  From the clothing, the pictures were taken at the Chandlers’ anniversary party. Where had Nadia been while Grayson and Adalyn met? Had she been defending herself against his mother while he cuddled up with his supposedly hated ex? Had Cherise been a distraction while those two arranged to meet?

  Question after question bombarded her, and she wanted to cry out with the onslaught. She shoved to her feet, her chair rolling back to hit the wall behind her. Ignoring the curious glances thrown her way, she flattened her palms to the desk, unable to tear her gaze from the images. With trembling fingers and humiliation blazing a path through her, she moved the mouse, scrolling up to the message above the pictures.

  I didn’t want to have to resort to such measures, but you didn’t leave me another choice. If you won’t believe my words, then maybe you will believe pictures since they’re supposed to be worth a thousand of them. Grayson has never stopped loving me, as you can very well see. Whatever you think you have with him, it’s not real. You’re doing nothing but making a fool of yourself. Find your dignity and walk away with at least some of your pride intact.

  There wasn’t a signature, but one didn’t need to be included. Adalyn. She’d discovered Nadia’s email address and blindsided her at work with proof of the unresolved feelings between her and Grayson.

  Wait, wait. Grayson had been adamant, when they first struck their bargain, that he’d never reunite with Adalyn. If something had happened between then and now to change his mind, he would’ve told her... Wouldn’t he?

  Yes.

  The part of her that stubbornly clung to belief in his integrity hissed out the agreement. There had to be an explanation for the pictures. For the emotion and intensity that seemed to vibrate from them.

  Before she could reconsider her decision, she hit Print on the email. Moments later, she snatched up the still-warm papers and headed toward the elevators. Though Mr. Webber would probably reprimand her if he exited his office to find her gone, she was willing to risk it.