I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (21 page)

“Get the fuck out of my way, Trev.”

His tone was austere when he berated, “I thought I told you to
stop
swearing, Krissan. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” I sallied.

With a quick move of his hand, his car door slammed shut, and he took a menacing step towards me, face serious. “Don’t. Swear.”

We stood there glaring at each other for more than a minute — me up, him down. Even while pissed at him, I wanted to jump him. Today he was suited: black suit, gray shirt, no necktie as usual, and his hair still hadn’t decided whether it wanted to be straight or curly. I couldn’t decide which Trevillo I liked more: the intimidating man in a suit, the rocker type man in heavy boots and jeans, or the playboy type in bright colors.

He was just so variable and unexpected.

Breaking the intense silence between us, I needed to know, “Why did you take off like that last Saturday?”

Dragging his fingers back through his hair, he shifted his gaze to the building then back to me. “Saturday was Saturday. Today’s Thursday.”

My lips curled petulantly at his evasive answer. “Are you one of those dark, closed-off anti-heroes like in those pathetic romance novels, where you had some shitty childhood, so even though you’re grown and filthy rich, you’re still wallowing in your past shit?” Eyes narrowing, I continued, “‘Cause if you
are
, then I’m telling you now, I don’t have time for that shit. I’m not going to spend my days stealthily trying to find out
why
you are fucked-up, and then try to ‘save’ you. If you’re fucked-up, then you need a psychiatrist or a bullet to the head. Not a girlfriend.”

Trevillo’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s harsh.”

“Yeah. Like I said, I don’t have the time for it. I don’t do the monosyllabic, cryptic shit. We can either have a conversation like two normal adults, or forget this.”

With a slight shake of his head, he gave me a crooked smile. “I didn’t know you read romance novels?”

I snorted. “Not a chance. But my best friend does. And I have to listen to her gush about her caveman heroes who don’t know how to communicate with women other than: You. Me. Bed. Because I said so. Unh. Unh. Come. This cunt is
mine.
Mine me say … ” I said in mock caveman voice, face expression and all. “Screw that shit. I like my men articulate, thank you very much.”

Laughing now, Trevillo walked to the front of his car and perched on the hood. He waved a hand up and down the length of my body and commented, “I’m liking this Krissy. Most animated I’ve ever seen you. Proves there’s a girl with a personality inside there.”

Ignoring that, I sneered, “You need to tell me why you’ve avoided me for four days, Trev, or get
the hell
out of my way.”

Quicker than a lightning’s wink, one hand shot out, grabbed my arm, and yanked me to him. The wind was knocked out of me at the impact. Betraying me, my body arched into him as a soft moan slipped through my lips. I’ve missed these strong arms, this hard chest, this scent of new leather and man. Those lips, those blue eyes, that searing stare … that tongue. I’ve missed it all.

I’ve missed
him
.

Somehow, he must’ve heard my thoughts, because a slow, seductive smile spread across his lips as he questioned, “You missed me, babe?”

“So bad,” I confessed through a rush of breath.

Tipping my chin up, he began peppering my neck with kisses, slipping words in between. “Then … why … didn’t you … pick up the phone … and … call me?”

Sighing as his tongue trailed up my neck to the soft spot behind my ear, I answered, “Because I’m not going to chase you.”

Kisses immediately ceased as Trevillo jerked his head back to look at me. “And why not?” He sounded affronted.

I stepped back out of his embrace and he let me, which proved he wasn’t happy with me at that moment. But I ignored the glare in his blues and told him as it was. “On Saturday afternoon, you told me, point blank, you know what you want. That you’re not impulsively dating me. That you’re
decidedly
with me. If that’s the case, then you need act as you speak. If I chase you, then that would be
me
telling
you
what you want.”

When he merely stared back at me with a blank expression, I threw up my hands in exasperation. “Trev, that move Saturday night was
not
of someone who knows what they want!”

“So what, now you’re a fucking psychiatrist?” he snapped.

“No. Just someone with common sense,” I shot back.

For several heartbeats, he glowered at me like he wanted to strangle me. Then he shook his head and muttered, “Fuck this” as he pushed up off the hood of his car and stalked to the driver’s side.

“Right!” I called after him. “Because
that’s
the behavior of someone who ‘knows what they want’!”

I spun around and stomped back to my car, hopped in, and started the engine, waiting with fuming impatience for him to move his damn car out of the way so I could drive out. But he was still there, and I wondered why. Given the pique he’d stormed off to his car with, I thought he would’ve blown out of there before I even got to mine.

And so, our cars had a stare off for about five minutes, Nissan to Audi, no one moving. Then I saw his door open and he came out and started walking towards my car. My body reacted on its own. I found myself slamming the gear in Park, lunging out of the car, and running straight to him.

Taken by surprise, Trevillo caught me with steady hands just as I went crashing into him. My hands went up and around him as I tried to climb my way up his tall, hard body until he took pity on me and lifted me up, my legs automatically locking around his waist. Before he got the chance to utter a word, I slammed my mouth down to his. Feverishly kissing him, hard and deep, not caring that the complex teemed with workers who were probably getting ready to leave. Trevillo didn’t seem to care either, because he was kissing me back with equal greed.

I couldn’t explain it. Why I had such a driving need for him.
I couldn’t explain it.
I just knew I loved being in his arms. That I loved being wanted by him. That I loved how his need matched mine.
I
knew what I wanted, and he was it.

His lips ripped away from mine, his breathing ragged. “What I want is
you
, Krissan Kingston.”

“What
I
want is you, Trevillo Nelson.”

“You can’t steal my line,” he said, smiling. “Be original.”

“I choose you,” I breathed.

“Still no,” he said, chuckling now. “I’d already chosen you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just take me to your bed. Please. I
need
you.”

With another breath-snatching kiss, he walked with me still wrapped around him toward the passenger side of his car and stuffed me in. “Buckle up, babe. This is a need for speed.”

S
he was losing him.

Losing. Him.

To
her
.

That little slut, Krissan Kingston.

How could she ever possibly be better than Sarah? She wasn’t, of course. Krissan just had the liberty to do as she pleased: she was unmarried. Disengaged. Free. So Trevillo was allowed maul her in public.

He couldn’t do that with Sarah because she was married. Entangled. Trapped.

That should be her who Trevillo was being intimate with in public. Without a care in the world someone might see them. That someone’s life might be ruined.

She wanted that. She wanted
him
.

Sarah watched from across the street as Trevillo buckled the little tramp in his car, jogged to her car, switched off the engine, and grabbed her handbag. In no time, he was back in his car and screeching out of the complex.

Sarah was parked directly across from the open gates of Skylark’s complex, and from there, she could see everything without hindrance. And what she saw had hurt her deeply.

She’d driven to Skylark with the intention of seeing Krissan Kingston, to have a little ‘chat’ with her. But as she parked across the road and started to get out of her car, she skidded to a halt at the sight of Trevillo there arguing with said bitch.

Great. They were arguing.

Frickin’
wonderful.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to ‘chat’ with the bitch after all. But then, they weren’t arguing anymore. They were fucking sucking each other’s faces off. And Sarah felt as though someone had reached inside her chest and ripped her heart out. What she saw wasn’t anything casual. Wasn’t just fun. Wasn’t just temporary.

Who
she saw wasn’t Trevillo Nelson.

Sarah knew right then and there she was going to lose him if she didn’t do something soon. Trevillo was hers. He owned her. Owned her heart. Her love. Every part of her. He just didn’t know the depth of her love because she’d been too proud to show it.

She would let him know, though. Before it was too late. She’d be damned if that bitch thought she could take Trevillo from her.

Once Trevillo knew her love for him was real, he’d let go of his reservations, his fears, his jealously. And they’d be good together. As they always were.

But before she bared herself to him, there was one tiny obstacle she had to get rid of. If it came down to it,
two
tiny obstacles.

Then, he’d be hers and hers alone.

He’d be
Sarah’s
.

T
he drive to Trevillo’s penthouse was fast.

Fast and ominously quiet.

Neither of us spoke a single word since we sped from Skylark with a zing. Not even on the elevator up to the penthouse. We silently stepped off into the apartment as though we hadn’t been on each other with rabid intensity back at the complex. I had no idea what was on
his
mind, but my quietude was on account of thinking, with much anticipation, about how amazing, and endless, sex was going to be with him tonight.

Words still unspoken, Trevillo disappeared into his bedroom. The penthouse was darkened by the sun’s rapid descent, so I switched on the lights and started to undress in the living area, getting rid of my blouse and shimmying out of my skirt.

At the sudden sound of music, I jumped. Massive Attack’s
Angel
started flowing throughout the house. The base, waves, and echo effect sounded awesome.

Killer sound system
, I thought as I kicked my skirt aside. Just then, the lights went out and dim, red lights came on. What the hell?

With the music and lighting, the apartment took on the aura and vibe of a night club. But this club was for two patrons only.

Sólo dos.

As I stooped down to unstrap my heels, Trevillo’s voice stopped me with a, “Keep those on.”

I glanced up and saw him striding towards me sinfully naked, his hardened cock pointing straight ahead, a handcuff clutched in his grasp.

Eyeing the handcuffs with mild trepidation, I slowly stood up. “Trev, I don’t do restrai — ”

“Not for you.”

He stopped in front of me, and using his free hand to grab my chin, he tilted my head back and dropped his lips to mine, giving me a rough, thorough kiss. A different kind of kiss than I’d ever tasted from him.

In just a red lace underwear set and black, strap-up, five-inch heels, I was aroused to the nth degree. His rough kiss along with the waves of the music spurred a wildness inside me. When I tried to move closer into him, he stopped kissing me.

“On your knees,” he ordered.

I stood diffident at his command. If the cuffs weren’t for me, then they had to be for him, which meant he’d be restrained at
my
mercy. Yet,
he
sounded so … commanding.

At my hesitance, he reiterated, “
Knees
, Krissy.”

No argument, I obeyed and got down on my knees before him.

He held out the handcuffs to me, and when I took them, he brought his wrists together in front. “Cuff me.”

I stared up at him for a moment, thinking how new, weird, and kinky this was for me, not having ever done anything this … hot. Thoughts of a cuffed Trevillo were doing odd things to my body.

“Do it.”

Gingerly, I snapped the handcuffs around his wrists and waited for the next order; curious and excited to see what this would turn into.

“Now, you’re gonna suck me off. I’m not allowed to move or reach for you. I’m supposed to stand and fucking take it just as you give it. My orgasm is in your hands. If I move an inch or try to reach for you, then you may stop for as long as you want, stymie my orgasm, do whatever the fuck you please until I learn to stand like a man and take what you give.”

I was serious when I said there were no adjectives to describe this man’s erogeneity, so I had to settle for the only noun that could act as one in his case: Why was he so sex?

Breath quickening, my teeth scraped over my lower lip at the prospect of having this man completely under control while I blew his oversexed brains out.

He must’ve mistaken my heavy breathing for fear, because he cocked his head to the side and suavely dripped, “I’ve avoided you for four days without an explanation, Miss Kingston. Do you think I deserve an easy come? Even after I allowed you to go without my hard, throbbing cock … or my wet, punishing tongue for four … whole … days?”

He dragged out the last words with a deep, sexy drawl … Oh dear God, this man was just too much. Too fervid. Too intense. Too impassioned.

I was so turned on, I felt as if I was going blind.

With my eyes locked to his, my lungs almost defunct, I placed my hands on his hips, parted my lips, leaned forward to his cock arrowed straight at my mouth, and wrapped my lips around him. Slowly taking more and more of him, I kept my hands firmly planted on his hips.

As he hit the back of my throat, I felt the vibration of his groan as he stared down at me with his mouth clamped shut. I kept him there for a while, his crown at my tonsils, and I dared him to flex his hips forward for the lack of movement. When he didn’t move, and my eyes started to water — because I couldn’t hold him there any longer without gagging — I pulled back, and that’s when I heard him release a long shudder.