I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (8 page)

Snapping out of my haze, I found his eyes. “I thought you said you’d call me Krissy?”

Yet another stupid statement like the one back in his office. ‘
You’re so tall’.
Ugh.
Get yourself together, Krissan!

Before Trevillo could answer, Jahleel’s voice called from the living area. “Who is it, Krissy?”

I watched as Trevillo’s expression changed from amused to disappointment. “You … live with someone?”

If I’d screwed him already, the answer to that question would’ve been an automatic ‘yes’ to get rid of him. That wasn’t the case, however, because I was yet to get a sample of him. So for the first time ever, I told an inquiring man the truth. “That’s just my brother.”

“I’m
not
your fuckin’ brother,” I heard Jahleel grit out behind me.

Shit.

Turning around, I found him glaring down at me. His eyes shifted to Trevillo, then back to me. Trevillo looked between us, eyebrows raised. Clearly confused.

Narrowing my eyes at Jahleel, I tried to convey to him I haven’t slept with this man yet; therefore, no scaring-the-guy-off scene was needed! “JK, this is my boss, Trevillo Nelson. Trev, this is my … Jahleel.”

Jahleel gave a perfunctory nod in Trevillo’s direction, then turned his attention back to me. “On your doorstep?”

Why was he being like this? What the hell was wrong with him?

Hands fixed on my hips, I hissed, “Well, that’s none of your goddamn business now, is it?”

Bending so his gold eyes were leveled with mine, he bit out, “
Everything
about you is my fuckin’ business.”

“Stop it, JK!” I yelled, getting seriously pissed off.

“Krissy,” I heard Trevillo’s stern, in-office voice say. “Would you like for me to — ”

“No,” I said a bit too desperately.

Jahleel’s head jerked back in shock at this.

I shoved past him and stepped outside the door, slamming it behind me.

“I’m confused,” Trevillo declared with a twinge of annoyance. “Is he your man? Your brother? Fuck buddy? What?”

“He’s my brother,” I quickly explained. “By ink, not by blood. I’m adopted.”

Trevillo nodded as his gaze suddenly lowered and lingered at the deep V-cut of my Hello Kitty night shirt. Jahleel issue forgotten, he spoke to my cleavage, “I figured I’d give you a surprise visit. Wanna grab a drink?”

Seeing that my V-cut and exposed cleavage distracted him, I decided to turn on the flirt a bit, in hopes that this night would end up being an orgasmic one.

Curving a thumb in the waistband at the front of my shorts, I tugged at it gently so it slid down my hipbone, pretending it was being done unconsciously. Then I brought my other hand to my now exposed hipbone and lower stomach, and pretended to be scratching an itch. “I’d love to. But a public outing means I’ll have to find a killer outfit, do my hair, make-up, etcetera. That’ll take hours … ”

Whenever I, Krissan Kingston, left the house, I had to be dressed to the ninth. That was the shallow me.

With a flirtatious tilt of my head to the side, and hip jutted out, I suggested, “But if the drink is in the privacy of your place, I could be ready in, say, less than twenty?”

Trevillo tried to smother a smile. “Ever so forward.”

I shrugged in impatience and a wisp of desperation, waiting for his answer. A girl knows what she wants. It was that simple.

“‘Kay,” he agreed, after staring me down for a millennium. “I’ll wait for you.” Then before I could invite him in, he added, “Outside.”

Freakin’ Jahleel!

I turned and reentered the house then practically sprinted up the stairs, where I found Jahleel sitting pensively on the edge of my bed with his head lowered. Deciding to ignore him, I went straight into the closet and began searching for something easy to wear.

I selected a simple black baby-doll dress from the racks and chose a flat pair of red strappy sandals to go with it. Turning, I crashed straight into Jahleel. He caught me around the waist just as I almost toppled over, looking down at me with
that
expression I liked to ignore. “Krissy … ” was all he said.

Pushing at his chest, I wrung free from his hold and stepped around him. “You’re acting weird, JK.”

And I hadn’t the time to deal with his shit. I needed to get laid tonight.

As I sat down at the vanity and began styling my hair, he came to stand behind the chair, resting his hands across the top and finding my eyes in the mirror. “On our doorstep. Called you ‘Krissy’. You never give them any real information about you. And now you’re leaving with him. Again?”

On an exasperated sigh, I glowered at him. “Did you hear who I said he was? My boss. He has
all
my information. Apparently he used it to his advantage, and I honestly could care less. And no, he’s no ‘Again’, because I haven’t slept with him yet. That’s why I’m freakin’ mad at you right now! You almost messed it up.”

I hadn’t seen Trevillo since our last encounter at Skylark a week ago, and I’d thought for sure he was no longer interested, so I’d called it a loss. Now Jahleel was acting like the major asshole he was because he thought Trevillo was an Again.

We had this thing where we referred to anyone we slept with more than once as an ‘Again’. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t recall ever having an Again, because I’d never given anyone seconds. Jahleel, on the other hand, had a lot of Agains, stalkers, wealthy cougars and even celebrities who were willing to give him the world if he wanted it. He had a fuckload of Agains. Yet he was giving me shit.

Jahleel’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he whispered, “Oh.”

I frowned at him. Even if Trevillo was an Again, what the hell would it matter?

“Sorry,” he apologized, and his usual hot-guy demeanor slid back on as he flashed me his signature crooked grin. “Didn’t know.”

Finally. The Jahleel I could identify with was back. I hate it when he goes all raging wacko on me. “Now get the hell outta my room.”

Chuckling, he slid two fingers under my chin and tilted my head back so he could smack a kiss on my nose. Ruffling the bangs I’d just curled with the styling iron, he dashed out of the room before I could yell at him.

Freakin’ Jahleel!

“Well, that was quick,” Trevillo noted, pushing away from the sleek, black Audi he’d been leaning casually against. “I thought you said less than twenty. This is less than ten. In a rush for something?”

Fighting the urge to climb up his body and deplete all the air from his lungs, I retorted, “Less than ten is still less than twenty.”

With a small smile, he opened the car door for me to get in, rounded to the driver’s side, got in, and drove off.

His scent, the scent belonging solely to Trevillo Nelson, was trapped inside the confinements of the car, and I inhaled deeply in appreciation of it.

“You smell nice,”
he
commented after a short moment of silence, seeming to have been appreciating my scent as I was appreciating his. “What kind of fragrance is that?”

I reflexively brought my wrist to my nose and sniffed, trying to remember what cologne I’d used. Being a cologne connoisseur, I had quite a lot on my dresser. “Oh, this one’s Rihanna’s
Nude
. Got it yesterday from JK.”

He glanced over at me for a brief second at the mention of Jahleel, and I was hoping he wouldn’t start asking about the complicatedness that was our relationship. No one ever understood us and we didn’t care for them to. Since day one, Jahleel and I have been like bench and ass. We were inseparable, over-affectionate, and real to each other. Even though I considered him as my brother — because he kind of was — he preferred I didn’t refer to him as such, and that’s about it. People tried to understand us, but there was nothing to understand. Our relationship was just ours and no one else’s.

Thankfully, Trevillo didn’t ask about Jahleel again. Instead, he broached another subject I didn’t care to talk about. “So, you’re adopted. Tell me about your family.”

“Why?” I sighed. “That’s boring.”

Alternating between watching the road and watching me, he asked, “Why do you continually try to evade conversations about yourself?”

Oh dear God.
“Because there’s nothing interesting about me. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Shallow people don’t
know
they’re shallow, Krissy. They think they’re the shit, and they’re ever-ready to share their ‘story’ with anyone who’ll listen, because they think their life is better than everyone else’s.” He sounded as irritated as I felt. “The fact that you’re trying to sell yourself as shallow proves there’s a
meaningful
part to you. A part you’re loath to share.”

I wish I knew what that part of me was. I wish I knew what everyone else thought they knew.

Instead of addressing his inaccurate observation, I told him about the people who saved me. “My adoptive parents are highly religious people. They run the Kingston Faith Ministries and programs that air weekly on television. They adopted me when I was six. The slutbag who carried me for nine months — instead of saving herself the trouble and aborting me when I was an unformed fetus — left me on the seashore to die six months after she pushed me out. So I spent the first six years of my life in a paint-peeling, mold-eating, roach, rats, and termite-infested apartment in Jersey with over a dozen other kids. Bam, the Kingstons charged in and saved the day. Giving me food to eat that wasn’t three days old, and clothes to wear I knew wasn’t worn a hundred times over because they had tags signifying their newness. That came with a bedroom twice the size of the rotting apartment, a bed that could hold the dozen kids I’d left behind, and a reason to smile. The. Fucking. End.”

Trevillo pulled over to the curb outside a hotel I knew to be his, Viscas II, threw the gear in ‘park’, and dragged up the handbrake. “You sound angry.”

Gritting my teeth, I ground out, “Because I don’t
want
to talk about myself. Is that so friggin’ hard to understand?”

Turning to face me, he just stared. Studying me. Eyes searching mine, digging into my soul. Trying to find God knows what.

On a stolid note, he spoke, “Okay, Krissan, you don’t have to talk about yourself … now. You were adopted, yes, but not completely, wholly, correctly. They’ve tried but seemed to have failed with you somehow. You need to be adopted correctly. You need to be given a reason to
want
to talk about your life. I’m arrogant enough to know I’ll succeed at that — adopting you, that is.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. The hell’s
that
supposed to mean?

But before I could find a breath to speak, he was out of the car, rounding to my side, and opening the door. Planted in the car seat, I could only stare up at him as he held out his hand, waiting for me to get out.

That’s when I started to question whether I knew what I was getting myself into with this man. He wasn’t like the other guys I screwed around with — mainly because he wasn’t a guy, but a
man
. He asked a shitload of questions all the time and looked at me with penetrative, analyzing stares, searching for the best angle to rip me open.

Then there was the fact he was, well, him. All the talk about adopting me — whatever that meant — was proof he wasn’t on the same page I was. I was in it for a wham-bam-thank-you-madam fling. But it was now becoming obvious he was in for something more. He had an aim, and I was sensible enough to know men like him usually got whatever they went after. So the best thing to do was to stop this before it started.

I blinked at his hand and then back up at him. “Um, I’m thinking this might not be — ”

“No thinking,” he cut me off. “C’mon.”

When I continued to hesitate, he stooped down to level his eyes with mine. “Over all our encounters, you’ve been exuding the ‘I know what I want’ attitude. You do know what you want, you’re not coy about it, and that turns me the fuck on. But in order for me to give you what you want, Krissan, you have to take what I’m offering.”

This time, when he reached out to touch me, he didn’t pull back. As his thumb passed over my lower lip, he tugged it down and slid said thumb inside my mouth. And, hell no, I couldn’t resist biting it.

Eyes flashing with something fierce, he husked, “I’m offering you
me
, Krissan. And with me comes
everything
.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I bit down harder on his thumb, and I heard his breath catch.

“Every-fucking-thing.”

I wanted to set it straight that all I wanted was sex. That I didn’t want ‘everything’. But my hormones and high arousal were in control of me at that moment, so instead of resisting, I found myself nodding and stepping out of the car.

As soon as I was righted, Trevillo pushed me up against the side of the car, and slid his thumb back in my mouth. “Again.” When I bit him again, he groaned, “Harder.” Complying, I bit him harder to the point where I knew it had to be painful, but he just closed his eyes and breathed, “Yes, Krissan. Like that.”

Then his eyes snapped open and he stepped back, as if suddenly remembering we were in front of his hotel, in public. He took hold of my hand and led me off.

A valet met us half-way, practically stumbling over his own two feet. “Pleasant good evening, Mr. Nelson. Ma’am.”