The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 1) (19 page)

She gave him a bland look.

“Does not require a knife.” He lifted his glass of scotch. “Anyway, Magda does all the cooking around here, don’t you, Magda?”

“Top left, next to the refrigerator,” his housekeeper answered as began filling the dishwasher. The woman was crazy efficient.

“What are you doing, anyway?” he asked as Merina carved into an avocado.

“I’m making guacamole.”

“Why?”

“Why am I making guacamole?” She quit carving and gave him a confused, possibly miffed look. She was too damned attractive.

“I don’t want to know why you’re making guacamole. I want to know why you don’t have
Magda
make guacamole? She likes to make things. That’s why she works here. Right, Magda?”

Magda, who’d known him nearly his entire life, smiled one of her supremely tolerant smiles. “I do indeed, Mr. Crane. It’s nice to cook for someone again, seeing as how you’ve been away from the mansion for so long.”

He tilted his head and arched an eyebrow, hoping she read his silent communication to curb that discussion. Not that there was a need. Magda wasn’t one to gossip.

“Sometimes it’s fun to do things for yourself,” Merina said, halving the fruit…or was avocado a vegetable? Something to ask Siri later.

“But most of the time it’s nice to have things done to you,” Reese said. “I mean, for you.”

Merina shot him a glare, catching his intentional reference to the things he’d like done to him. Things she did with her mouth and hands, involving her wearing a hell of lot less clothing than she was now.

“You weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth, Crane.” She pointed at him with the tip of the knife. “You were born with an entire cutlery drawer in there.”

Magda chuckled and Merina smiled in triumph. He abandoned his scotch and stalked to his wife, lashing an arm around her middle and pressing her against the counter from behind.

“What was that?” he rumbled into her ear. She smelled good today. She smelled good every day, but today there was something light and intoxicating about the fragrance on her neck. “New perfume?”

“Yes, you bought it.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No,
you’re
welcome,” she breathed.

“Magda, I’m going to need a moment with my wife.” He lowered his lips to Merina’s neck and she dropped the knife with a clatter, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. He closed his hands over her hips and squeezed.

Merina rubbed her ass against his crotch.

“Second thought, take the evening off,” he told Magda, not wanting to expose his housekeeper to more.

“Just like your parents.” Magda tsked and pressed a button to start the dishwasher. “Good night.”

That comment was one he chose to ignore.

Once Magda was out of sight, Merina turned to face him and this time rubbed her front against his front. He wound his fingers around her ponytail and dragged the elastic from the strands, freeing her hair, enjoying the soft feel of every part of her and the easy attention she gave him.

“Why is it”—he lowered his lips to hers—“that when you sass me, all I want to do is fuck you?”

Her hands rose and spread over his chest, sending an answering heat flooding his veins. Because Merina liked sex, because she’d initiated it, and because she’d made it a point to show her enjoyment, he didn’t have to mince his words. He could tell her what he wanted, and she would respond.

She brushed her lips against his, but instead of kissing him, whispered, “What did Magda mean we’re like your parents?” Then she grinned, knowing his balls were aching. She lifted herself to sit on the counter. “Tell me. I want to know.”

He let out a sigh, but she grabbed his tie and pulled him to stand between her legs. Once he was there, he wasn’t inclined to leave.

“Mom and Dad were a nightmare,” he said, teasing. “They were insanely in love, but in a house full of boys, the gross-out factor was high. “All over each other. Kissing in the kitchen, making out in the pool. Once I walked in on them on the couch in the living room and they said they were cuddling. After I aged up a few years, I knew exactly what they were doing.”

“So Magda means we’re demonstrative.” She loosened the knot of his tie, which had never in his life been sexy until Merina started doing it. “Hmm.”

Hmm.
That sounded as dangerous as “fine” and “never mind.”

“She’s known you a long time, then?”

“Since I was ten. She was part-time then, raising her own kids.”

“I didn’t know she has children,” Merina said, eyes brightening.

“I didn’t know you cared,” he said as Merina finished undoing his tie. “She has three.” Merina unbuttoned his top button and then one more and stroked her fingers down his throat.

“My parents kiss each other on the cheek and on the forehead,” she said, continuing to drive him wild. “They lovingly bicker. But I can’t say I’ve ever seen them passionate with each other.” She screwed her face into a cute look of disgust. “Eww.”

“You aren’t missing out.” His hands moved down her back and over her bra. With the flick of a thumb, he unclasped it.

“You’re good at that.” She pursed her lips. “I guess you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“A trap I refuse to walk into.”

“Smart man.” Holding both sides of his tie, she tugged him closer, but still didn’t kiss him. “Tell me about your mom.”

“Merina.” He backed away but she had a grip on his tie and he didn’t get far.

“Other than the fact you named your boat after her.”

“It’s a yacht.” He pulled a hand through his hair, feeling uncomfortable. None of them talked about Mom. Not because of a written code, they just…didn’t.

“How did she die? I don’t need gory details, just the facts.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“How would I know?” she asked.

He was stalling and she wasn’t letting it go, or letting him out of it. And really, what was the harm in discussing Lunette Crane? But the urge to hide, to keep the details of his personal life private, was strong.

Habits. Years and years of habits. Merina’s fingers stroked over his skin again. He met her eyes and told her the truth.

“She was driving to work one day and was involved in a three-car pileup involving two semis.”

Merina winced, and before he could stop himself, he told her the gory details anyway.

“Hers was the compact car in the middle.”

“Reese…” She shook her head, pain searing her pretty face.

“One day she was sending us out the door to school, and that night she wasn’t home. A few days later I was saying good-bye to a wooden box.” He didn’t know if the position of his mouth was a sad smile or a grimace. “She was a beautiful woman, but there wasn’t enough left of her to reconstruct for the funeral.”

One of Merina’s hands left his tie to cover her mouth. Something about her reaction—her shock, the pain in her eyes, the tenderness she showed him when she gently rested a palm on his chest—drew him in instead of pushing him away. The last five years had been about enjoying a woman’s company for the short-term, and conversations rarely if ever veered into “how did your mom die” territory.

Keeping Merina at arm’s length was something he’d thought he could do, but that idea was becoming less and less desirable. The more she was around, the more he realized he liked talking to her. He moved her hair over one shoulder and stroked a finger over super-soft skin and along the collar of her shirt. Once there, he undid one of the delicate pearl buttons.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” Her eyes were glassy, her mind no doubt locked on the horrors he’d described.

“You deserve to know. It’s something a wife should know about her husband.” He wanted to distract her. To erase her pain. Especially since it was for him. Seeing it sliced into him.
Deep.
He undid another button and parted her shirt. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Distraught, her mouth sagged.

So he did what came naturally, lowered his lips to the edge of her tattoo and pressed a kiss against the ink.

She caught his head and breathed a heated sigh into his ear.

“You have a story, Merina.” He took the kiss she wouldn’t give him earlier. When she tried to deepen it, he denied her, robbing her of his mouth. “Tell me. I’ve earned it.”

Reese swept broad fingers over her tattoo. The point at one end down to the bright flames streaking from the end.

“What’s it mean?” he asked, his voice low. He ran the tip of his finger back over her body art.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it.” Her voice came out husky, his touch turning her on. Truthfully, he’d been turning her on since he mentioned wanting to “fuck her.” A phrase she was sure she didn’t like before she’d met Reese Crane. What was it about this man that flipped her world upside down?

“Try me.” Navy eyes snapped to hers. His fingers dipped between her breasts and then over one of her nipples.

She sucked in a breath, locking her high-heeled shoes behind his knees. She supposed she owed him a personal story. Being physical with him was easy, sharing…not so much. They’d come this far. He hadn’t pulled punches when he told her of his mother, a story that absolutely broke her heart.

“I grew up in the Van Heusen hotel,” she told him. “Part-time. The VH was my home in a lot of ways. I played in the hallways, helped the housekeepers with laundry. Sat with Arnold for hours while he worked the desk.”

“The older man. I’ve seen him.”

“He’s been there for years. The flames”—she undid another button and slipped the shirt off her shoulder, revealing the arrow in full—“are a theme.”

His eyes held hers for an impressive few seconds before recognition sparked, then he moved to her tattoo and his lips curved into a small smile.

“The Phoenix.” He opened another button on her shirt. “That building rose from the ashes.”

“Yes.”

“Did you rise from the ashes, too, Merina?” The last button open, he removed the shirt from her arms, his gaze finding hers unerringly.

“In a way.” Cool air hit her bare breasts when he took her bra off. Her heart hammered, half afraid he would ask her about her past, half relieved when he didn’t.

“Why an arrow?” Both hands covering her breasts, he lowered his head and forged a trail of kisses down her neck.

Her eyes on the ceiling, she had to remind her tongue how to form words as he dragged his tantalizing mouth to her collarbone.

“It’s a popular symbol,” she breathed, goose bumps dotting her skin. A small squeak left her lips when he lightly licked one nipple. He tweaked them with his fingers, kissing her and swallowing her sounds of satisfaction.

“I want to know what it means to
you
, Merina.” Oh, the way he said her name. Low and tender and filled with authority. He tugged her nipples, sending a flood of heat to the apex of her thighs. “Tell me, or I’ll stop.”

His tug turned into a tweak.

“Okay.” Merina tightened her legs around his. She didn’t want him to stop. Which he must’ve figured out, because next, he grinned. One of those Reese Crane grins that weakened her knees and made her want to punch him in the throat.

“An arrow…can only move forward…by being pulled back,” she answered in between breaths and the pulls of his distracting, kneading fingers. “It’s stronger for it.”

“You’re driven.” Mouth covering the pulse at her neck, he sucked her skin for a mind-melting second before speaking against her damp flesh. “A quality I admire.”

Head lifted, he zoomed in on her again, and she squirmed. Not only from his sexual attention but also the way he seemed to see her in that moment. Like he was
really
seeing her. It made her feel more naked than when she was actually naked.

“Not surprising.” She jerked her eyes to another spot in the room. “You’re equally driven.”

“The Van Heusen is more than a building to you.” Fingers on her jaw, he guided her face back to his.

“Yes. Isn’t the Crane more to you?”

His eyes went to the side in thought, giving her a brief reprieve from his intense focus. “Not really.”

“You mean if someone wanted to redesign your building, you would let them?” She found that hard to believe.

“No one would redesign my building without my permission.”

“Because you’d never bankrupt yourself and have to sell it to the local vultures who—” A gasp swallowed the rest of her words. Reese had dipped his attention to her breasts again. She was beginning to think they were the most sensitive to his kisses.

A few mind-numbing ministrations later, and she’d forgotten what they were talking about.

“Stop teasing me.” Clutching the back of his hair, she kissed him hard, driving her tongue into his mouth. She tore at his shirt, rewarded by the sound of two buttons plinking off the edge of the stainless steel sink.

He responded by kissing her just as hard, his hands moving her skirt up and finding her panties before tearing them down her legs. She worked his belt open but didn’t get further before he stepped back. He took care of freeing himself, his erection pointing out and up in all its powerful glory.

Her mouth watered. His physicality paired with his formidability her own personal catnip.

Hands on her hips, he tugged her ass to the edge of the counter. She rested a hand on his cheek and his expression softened.

“You okay?” His voice was low with concern, his brows closing in slightly. She wasn’t okay. She was in a fantastically compromising position with Reese and she didn’t mean because she was perched on the counter. It was the last several minutes that had her chest pinging in warning. They’d discussed private things—not business, but how they felt. Intimacy on a new level, and now they were going to seal it with sex.

Danger, danger,
her mind chanted.

She ignored it. She could handle the split between being physical and emotional. She could. She
would
.

“Condom.”

He blinked twice as if snapping out of a trance.

“Wallet.” He dug out the foil packet, a few hundred-dollar bills fluttering free of the money clip and sailing to the floor. He ignored them. She laughed. That was so…him.

“I need to get back on the pill,” she said to cover for her amusement.