I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (16 page)

“Ohhh,” I moaned, as I moved against his tongue. “I’ve never … felt … I’ve never … no … ” I had no idea what I was trying to say.

Seized and locked by pure, unadulterated pleasure, constructing a coherent sentence was an impossibility at that moment. Trevillo pulled at my thighs, prompting me to uncross my ankles. As he urged my legs wider to match the width of his shoulder blades, I tried to grab something, anything, for balance, but there was nothing except the glass behind me. So I spread my arms out and pressed my palms flat against it, fighting to keep still as Trevillo prolonged his torture.

“You want to be Trev’s, Krissy?”

Unable to answer, I thrashed my head from side to side, re-situating my sweaty palms flat against the glass each time they began sliding down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, as he unyieldingly flicked his tongue over the most sensitive tip of my bud. When he didn’t get an answer, he sucked it. Hard.

That
undid me.

Like brick slamming into a mirror, I shattered into splinters. On their own, my legs relocked around his neck and my hands fisted in his hair as my whole body juddered with the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. “Sweet fuck …
yes
.”

Trevillo’s hands went up to the center of my back and helped keep me balanced during the quake of my orgasm. Wrung dry, my upper body fell limp against the glass, and I peered down at Trevillo who was peering up at me from between my still-quivering thighs, his lips glossed over with my arousal, one eyebrow arrogantly arched. Waiting.

I raked my fingers through his hair and whispered in a hoarse voice, “I’m Trev’s.”

“I’m expected on the dock in a few hours to go sailing with my brothers,” said Trevillo, peering at me over the rim of his coffee mug. “I’m taking you with me.”

After sucking me dry a few hours ago, he sat my enervated body down on the sofa and I dozed off instantly. Fifteen minutes ago, he woke me up to a heavy breakfast of Eggs Benedict and asparagus, sliced avocados, diced strawberries and pineapples with bread pudding on the side. All tastefully prepared by his hands.

The man was too amazing to be real. He could fuck like a demon, suck his way through the gates of heaven, and cook his way through the fires of hell.

“I don’t mind,” I responded, as I bit on an asparagus. “But I have to go home and sort myself out. No clothes.”

He leaned back in his chair and stared at me across the table with a satisfied curve of his lips. “You don’t have to go home. I’ll have my cousin, Lori, bring some outfits here for you. She’s a stylist.”

“Nah. That’s cool,” I declined, shaking my head. “I’d rather head home.”

“Blowing off my offers in a polite manner?”

There was that tone again. That ‘calm’, anger-concealing tone.

Sighing, I set my fork down and raised my eyes to hold the blue gaze of the man sitting at the other end of the table, bare-chested and scrumptious. “I’ve agreed to … ’being yours’. However, I need
you
to agree to some things; things that I know are affixed to dating a man of your status that I’m simply
not
up for: I don’t want to be lavished. I don’t want you to buy me expensive jewelry and request I accompany you to boring functions with other vapid, pompous comrades slash business partners. I don’t want you to be partial and put me above other designers in DD at TDR just because you’re screwing me. I don’t want the hype. I don’t want your money. And I would prefer we kept this … thing between us on the quiet side.”

For a long moment, he just stared at me. Studying me. He took a breath as if to argue his case, but stopped himself and shoved a hand through his hair. On a shrug, he agreed, “If that’s what you want.”

Relieved he chose not to make a big deal out of it, I thanked him.

Then he stealthily tried to put in, “But it really would be better to have Lori bring over a couple changes of clothing for you instead heading to your place. If we don’t make it to the dock on time, they’ll think I’m not showing. I’m good for it.”

“Trev, I have to go home. I have nothing with me. No cellphone, house keys, nothing. I even left the house unlocked. JK is probably worried sick about me.”

“Why? Aren’t you a grown woman?”

“
Why
are you being so difficult?” I snapped.

Displaying defeatism, he held his palms up. “‘Kay, Krissan.” Pushing his chair back, he got up from the table and started out of the room. “Gonna shower.”

Not quite sure if he was upset with me, I took up my fork and resumed eating. If he was upset, I honestly didn’t care. This thing we were testing out was still new, and I wasn’t about to let him take over my life. Apart from sexual giving, I wasn’t used to giving myself to anyone. So stampeding head-first into something I didn’t know jack-shit about would be utter fatuity.

A few minutes later, as I was about to take a sip of my coffee, I glimpsed a figure in the periphery of my vision. Glancing up, I caught sight of Trevillo standing in the archway of the dining area. Naked. Wet. Naked. Hair slicked back from his face. Naked. Dick hard and erect.
Naked
.

One eyebrow was winged in a severe arch, while water dripped to the floor from his right hand that was grasping a sudsy soap bar.

With the cup of coffee frozen mid-air, my lips parted, and a lustful breath of hot air rushed out.

Shitting hell …

“You need to understand something, Krissy,” he began, taking careful steps towards me. “Whenever I drop the words ‘gonna shower’, it means,
we’re
gonna shower. I expect to see you sliding the doors open and stepping in under that shower with me, no more than a minute later. Aroused, eager, and impatient to be fucked under the spraying shower and against the tiles.”

When he reached me, he took the cup of coffee still suspended mid-air from my hand and set it down on the table. Then he bent and slid one arm beneath my thighs, the other around my waist, and lifted my inert body up off the chair. “If I don’t want you to join me, I won’t
tell
you I’m gonna shower. ‘Cause, then, what would be the fucking point?”

Dropping a kiss on my forehead, he proceeded back to the bathroom. “There’s so much more you need to learn about me.”

In the bathroom, he set me down right under the steaming hot shower, the water raining down on my head and soaking his white tee I was wearing. Stepping inside, he closed the shower door, and, not bothering to remove the soaked tee from my body, he slid a hand beneath it and up to my aching center.

Eyes rolling back, I moaned and allowed him to push me back against the tiles and show me who was boss.

“W
hy don’t you come in with me?” I suggested to Trevillo as he turned the car into my driveway and shifted the gear in Park. “It’s better than waiting in the car.”

Distracted, he began connecting his iPhone to the car system. “Go on. I’ve got a few not-so-short calls to make.”

On a shrug, I hopped out and headed up to the house. The front door was locked when I got up it, so I had to ring the doorbell since I didn’t have my keys. It didn’t take long before Jahleel swung it open, his eyes bloodshot.

“Dammit, Krissy,” he breathed out in a relieved sigh. His arms shot out around me and lifted me into a tight hug. “Been shittin’ my fuckin’ jeans worrying … ”

I giggled against his chest. “I’m fine, JK. I was at Trev’s”

Stiffening, he slowly released me so I slid down his body and was settled back on my feet. The downside to being short was people, men in particular, were perpetually sweeping me off my feet. Literally.

I glanced up at him and noticed that he was looking over my head at the car out in the driveway. A tic jumped in his jaw. Yanking me inside, he slammed the door behind me with more force than was necessary.

Hard and flashing with anger, his gold eyes connected with mine. “I get home, the door’s unlocked, your cellphone, keys and everything are still here. Now it’s just, ‘
I was at Trev’s
’? Could’ve given me a heads up, you know? Would’ve saved me the fuckin’ worry.”

For a pastor’s son, Jahleel had the sinful habit of swearing profusely and eating all his ‘ings’. Living with him was the main reason I swore as much I did. He wasn’t always that crass. Not until a few years back, when he’d started working with that R&B artiste. He transformed into a crude, gritty man since then. I both loved and hated it.

Stepping around him, I started for the stairs, knowing there was a man outside waiting on me. “Sorry for the scare, JK. It was unplanned, and I left in a hurry.”

“Would it have killed you to make a goddamn phone call?” he asked my back as I mounted up the stairs. “You always let me know where you’re going, and with who. And … ” Grabbing my arm, he spun me around to face him just as I reached the top of the stairs, staring at me with intense accusation. “Thought you said he wasn’t an Again.”

“Jahleel, I said
I’m sorry
, okay?” I apologized once more, growing impatient. “And Trev’s not just an Again. We’re … kind of in a relationship now.”

Freeing from his grasp, I continued on to my bedroom. Straight into the closet, I doffed the black T-shirt and boxers belonging to Trevillo that I was currently wearing and put on a mini silk robe, then began scanning the clothes-racks for nautical-style pieces.

As I selected white jeans shorts and tossed it over the crook of my arm, Jahleel materialized in the closet doorway with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. “A relationship,” he said quietly, calm. “What’s changed? So fast, too.”

Selecting a white bandeau top that would crop high above my navel, I tossed it over my arm along with the shorts then moved to the other side of the closet where my jackets and blazers were. “Nothing’s changed, JK. I just … like him. A lot.”

At that, he took a breath and stalked off. But by the time I selected a striped, navy-blue crop-jacket and turned to exit the closet, he was there again, glaring at me. “Because he’s loaded, right?”

Exasperated and just about tired of damn possessive attitudes, I glared back. “What a fucked-up question to ask
me
! Am I poor? Are you poor? Do I want for nothing? Do you know me to be someone who gives a shit about a guy’s net worth, asswipe?”

Eyes softening, he immediately apologized. “No. That was an asshole thing for me to say … Sorry.”

Moving past him furiously, I threw my garments on the bed and went over the vanity to plug in my flat iron, then spun back around to look at him. He looked dreary as if he hadn’t slept at all last night, and I did feel bad I’d caused him to worry, but I also believed there was more to the irrational, yet personal, questions he kept shooting at me. Something was going on with him he wasn’t telling me about.

“Okay, JK, you’ve been acting pretty damn … aggressive all of a sudden. And I’m beginning to think you’re hiding something from me. What is it?” I demanded. “
What’s
going on?”

With a slight shake of his head, Jahleel raked his teeth over his lower lip as was his regular whenever he was irritated. He came up to me and stood hovering mere inches away and slid his index finger under my chin to tilt my face up so he could bore his intent gaze into mine. “If you can’t
see
what I’m ‘hiding’ from you in my eyes, or
feel
it in my touch, then I won’t
tell
you, bad girl. ‘Cause, then I’ll know I’m only forcing myself to give you somethin’ that doesn’t belong to you.”

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss on my nose then quietly walked out of the room. I watched the door he went through for a long while, struggling to keep old feelings at a distance. Willing them to stay buried.

Freakin’ Jahleel!

“What’s the point of that damn jacket if it’s covering less than what that …
bra
is covering?” Trevillo grumbled with an unpleasant scowl. He’d been looking disgruntled since I first got into the car back at the house, displaying his disdain for my choice of attire.

Like a moralistic grandfather, he’d carped about me showing off “too much skin”, and I’d obdurately refused to change. This was me; he’d either take it, or leave it.