The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 1) (26 page)

One last time.

Anticipation made his arms shake as he lowered his mouth to hers. Merina tasted like heaven. He’d been missing her taste for far too long. When he saw her standing at the door of his suite, he couldn’t remember ever being devastated and glad to see someone at the same time.

Gwyneth had come to his suite earlier and he had just stumbled from the bathroom after about an hour of sleep last night. At first, he thought he was hallucinating. Then he wondered if
she
was. What she was asking was certifiable. He’d never in a million years take her back. He couldn’t believe she’d come here to ask. Even if he hadn’t been second place to Hayes all those years ago, it was too much to ask. Gwyneth tearfully shared that Hayes was cheating on her, which served her right. She wanted to know if Reese had seen her tweeted photo, and then she let him know she meant the “love of her life” thing.

“Yes, I did,” was his response, followed by that colorful FU he’d told Merina about.

That interaction had left him pissed and Gwyneth in tears. Seeing Merina had hit him like a blast of cool air on overheated skin. He missed her. Two damn days apart had left him lonely and lost.

Hadn’t he put her through enough loops on this marital roller coaster? The divorce papers were drawn up. They sat on the desk behind Merina, but now that Merina was in his arms, he wasn’t inclined to point them out.

Now that he was kissing her, he couldn’t stop. She loved him. Even after he’d lied. And left. After she’d seen Gwyneth leave his suite. Could he do nothing to deter her?

A million excuses tumbled through his head but not a single one left his mouth. There was no way he’d deny them this moment. No way he’d let her leave without taking her in every way possible.

Scent.

Touch.

Smell.

He lifted her shirt over her head. Beneath his T-shirt, she explored his torso with her hands, showing no signs of hurry. He grabbed his shirt by the neck and pulled it off, adding it to a pile of clothes in the corner. Life had been hell without her. If forty-eight hours had reduced him to a pitiful slob who couldn’t say no, what would the next forty-eight hours bring? Or forty-eight
days
?

He wouldn’t think about that either. He buried those fears the same way he buried his hands in her hair, slanting his mouth over hers and taking what he needed. But he wouldn’t rush. He refused to rush.

Slowly, intentionally, his hands went to work on the clasp of her bra.

Then lower, to the zipper at the side of her skirt.

Panties were peeled down her legs, his lips following as he placed kisses on her thighs, the insides of her knees. High heels were slipped off and kisses delivered to her ankles. To the arch of one foot.

Once Merina was nude, she started on him. Smoothing her hands over his chest, cupping his manhood over his jeans and giving him a gentle squeeze. She went to work on the fly, the zipper, pulled the denim down his legs. When her hand wrapped around his cock, Reese’s mind blanked.

No woman could replace her, and he hated that he had to let her go. But he didn’t dwell in that unpleasant future.

Not when she kissed him deeply and commanded, “Take these off.”

He stripped off his clothes, but when her hands came to his chest to shove him onto the bed, he stopped her. With a shake of his head, he lifted her into his arms and placed her on the blankets gently. So delicately. She never took her eyes off his.

He started at her tattoo, kissing the flames, and then moving his mouth between her breasts. One irresistible kiss to each peach-pink nipple, he ran a hand down her ribs, over her hip, and lifted one leg.

“So perfect,” he mumbled against the silken skin of her stomach.

“I want it hard,” she said.

“You’ll get it slow.” He lifted his head to make sure she saw he was serious.

Her head moved back and forth into a slight shake. “Reese.”

It was a plea. A plea for him to take her at a feverishly fast pace and give them the release she was begging for. If this was his last time with her, he refused to let her leave without knowing—on some level—what she’d come to mean to him over these last few months.

“You owe me, Crane.”

“What happened to ‘Reese’?” he grunted when she gripped his erection.

The expression on her face melted into one of sadness.
What did happen to him?
it seemed to ask.

Fuck if he knew.

Rather than answer that unspoken question, he gripped one of her hips and slid in to the hilt. The moment he lost himself in the heat of her, in the sounds she made in his ear, time stopped.

His eyes rolled back, his lids closing.

His mind splintered. His chest cracked open.

There was only her.

Only him.

Only
them
.

“We’re not fucking,” she said.

“No.” He palmed her jaw, making sure she saw him, truly saw him. “I’m making love to my wife.”

He parted her legs wider, thrusting once, twice. When he plunged deep again, tears leaked down her cheeks. He raised a thumb to her face and wiped the wetness away.

She licked her lips, and voice thick with emotion, she flayed him with, “I love you, Reese.”

He couldn’t say it.

He
wouldn’t
say it.

His next thrust was one long, wet slide, paired with his lips over his. She kissed him back. Against every last bit of his own advice, and in his private suite at the top of the Crane Hotel, Reese made love to his wife.

The woman he loved.

A
ll set.” Lorelei slid the divorce agreement across her desk. “Since you already have the Van Heusen squared away, this is pretty straightforward. There’s really nothing else do to but sign it.”

There wasn’t. Merina had already moved her things out of the mansion. She did so tearfully, not caring that Magda and the come-and-go staff saw her wearing sweats, bawling as she packed up her things.

Almost four weeks ago, in Reese’s private suite, he’d made love to her. She let him, unable to stop herself from telling him she loved him.

Twice.

Immediately after, he’d led her into the shower. Silently, they stood in the steam, Reese soaping her body as she shivered, feeling everything too much. He didn’t confess that he loved her, which she assumed meant he didn’t. He’d done it for her. He’d given her one last hit of Reese Crane before he asked her to say good-bye to him permanently.

“Take the divorce papers with you when you go,” he’d said, scrubbing her back with a washcloth as she stood in the water. “The sooner we wrap up loose ends, the easier the transition will be.”

She still didn’t know if he meant for her, him, or the press.

She hadn’t seen him since.

There was no reason to. She didn’t live in the mansion any longer, and there was no reason to go to the hotel. Lore was right. The Van Heusen was squared away, so there wasn’t anything left to do but sign on the bottom line.

Lorelei handed her a pen.

“It’s been a month, Mer,” she said. “Put yourself out of your misery and move on.”

According to the
Spread,
Reese had. They posted a photo of him and Penelope having lunch and reported that the blonde had “fallen hard for her sexy employer.”

Merina didn’t think it was true, but it made her feel a little better to imagine it was. Hating him was easier. After she’d slapped him, she should’ve turned and walked out.

Then she wouldn’t have dangling “I love yous” to contend with.

“Mer.”

“I know.” Merina tried to smile, but the reflected pain in her best friend’s eyes was so prevalent, tears welled in her own. Crying hadn’t solved a damn thing, so Merina accepted the pen and scrawled her name next to Reese’s.

“He never called or texted. Not even to see if I’d signed yet,” Merina said numbly.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Everything they’d had, gone with the stroke of a pen.

“I’ll drop these off for you,” Lorelei called as Merina left.

Merina didn’t respond. She walked out of Lore’s office and headed straight back to the Van Heusen.

The rustling of plastic sounded in the room and Reese cracked his eyes open. Sunlight pierced his retinas, so he slammed them shut again.

“No housekeeping,” he grumbled, unsure why the maid was here. He’d instructed her to come by once a week, and he remembered before he broke the seal on a bottle of sixty-year-old scotch last night that he’d hung the
DO NOT DISTURB
sign.

The numbers on the clock blurred, focused, then blurred again: 11:43. He couldn’t remember the last time he’s slept past eight. Well, whatever. He was due a sick day, probably had a hundred of them in queue. Hungover counted as sick. And anyway he was in charge.

He turned his face into the pillow, his skull aching like someone had split it with an axe. Today’s hangover wasn’t something he felt like dealing with. Neither was yesterday’s. Or the one he’d had the day before. They’d become his new routine.

He heard more rustling, but rather than deal with it, he pulled another pillow over his head. If she wanted to take the trash out so damn badly,
fine
.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to the patter of rain on the windows. The room was dimmer, so that was a plus.

His head still hurt when he opened his eyes, so it would make sense not much time had passed. Through a glass of water—where had that come from?—he made out the wavy numbers on the clock. The first number was a three. In the afternoon, he presumed.

Since his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, he pushed up on one elbow and reached for the glass. Two aspirin sat next to the water, Bobbie’s doing no doubt. He took them both, drank the water, then closed his eyes again to sleep hopefully another four or five hours. Then he could climb out of bed, order a pizza, and start drinking.

But before he could sink into sleep, the sound of his cell phone pierced the air. A purring ringer he’d turned off three days ago. He reached blindly for the phone and silenced it. Phone calls were the one thing he refused to let interrupt him. If the damn thing started ringing, it would never stop. He didn’t feel like dealing with anything.

Not people.

Not work.

None of it.

He hadn’t shown up for a single meeting, had delegated most busy work, and Bobbie was handling his e-mails. If the board tried to shit-can him, Reese would deal with it then. Right now only one thing mattered. Getting through the worst heartbreak of his life and coming out the other side.

There had to be another side.

God help him, there had to be.

The smell of coffee permeated the air, and this time, his eyes sprang open. Okay, coffee was going too far. Even for Bobbie. Evening time was for drinking. With a groan, he pushed up to sitting and scrubbed his face with his hands. He was disoriented and thirsty, but at least his headache was gone.

Eight p.m. He’d made it through another day.

Cell phone in hand, he squinted at the screen, fumbling through the menu to make sure the ringer was off.

“Click the button on the side,” a woman’s voice cut into the air.

“Thanks.” He flipped it with his thumb and the screen showed it was on mute.

Wait. That voice wasn’t Bobbie or the maid. He turned his head to find a slim redhead standing at the window, arms crossed over a pale pink suit.

“You missed the board of directors meeting today,” Gwyneth said, taking a few steps toward the bed. When she reached his side, she sat on the edge of the mattress. “I told them you had the flu.” Her nose wrinkled. “You smell awful. When is the last time you showered?”

“I don’t know. What’s today?”

She gave him a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” After she’d begged him back post-Twitterpocalypse and he had dropped the F-bomb and made her cry, he’d been certain he’d never see her again.

“Bobbie called me. She couldn’t reach Tag or Alex,” she said.

“Remind me to fire her.” He slipped a second pillow behind his back and shoved a hand through his hair. “I was asking
why
you are here.”

“I know what you meant. That love of my life thing?” she said, referring to the hashtag heard ’round the world. “That was an exaggeration. I was lonely. I was also mad because Hayes slept with his twenty-two-year-old assistant, Candi with an
i
. In retrospect, I should’ve taken a little time to myself before I sought you out.”

“You think?”

“Then I saw Merina,” she continued. “Everything I should have felt for you was reflected in her eyes.” Her smile faded quickly. “Only my feelings were more about myself.” Gwyneth shook her head softly, but not out of animosity, more like she was having a really late epiphany. Her eyes snapped over to him. “She loves you.”

“
Loved
. Past tense.” He pointed to his desk where an unopened envelope sat. “Divorce papers.”

He hadn’t opened the envelope yet. Why bother? Bobbie had brought them in three days ago…maybe four days at this point. Merina’s lawyer-slash-best-friend had dropped them off. He was glad he didn’t have to face Lorelei. She no doubt had an opinion about what he could do to himself using which body part, and he didn’t want her to demonstrate.

“You must have really hurt her if she signed them.” Gwyneth stood and moved to the kitchenette. She returned with a mug and Reese frowned.

“That had better be scotch.” Steam curled from the mug, so probably not.

“You won’t sleep tonight anyway. Drink it.” Once again, she sat on the edge of the bed.

It smelled good, which was why he accepted the mug and took a sip.

“Still waiting to find out why you’re really here,” he said. “You aren’t the most magnanimous person I know.”

A wry smile lifted half her mouth. Gwyneth had been out of his life so long, everything about her felt foreign. Her face, her voice…that she cared enough about him to intervene so he wasn’t fired.

“You mean am I here to try and convince you to take me back again?”

“Are you?”

“No.” To her credit, she didn’t look the least bit upset about the prospect of being turned down.

As miserable and heartbroken as he was, he still wouldn’t say yes to Gwyneth. Once a cheater always a cheater. As Hayes had recently proven to her. At that thought, he couldn’t help but offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry he hurt you. It sucks to be lied to.” He didn’t hate her. He didn’t like her, but he didn’t hate her. He’d take that as progress.

“Thanks.” She sent a glance around his hotel room. “You know…I could see that Merina loved you when I saw her at your father’s retirement party. What I didn’t know until I arrived here to your pigsty was that you loved her back. This isn’t like you.”

True. He’d handled heartbreak in the past by staying busy. Losing Merina made his heartbreak over Gwyneth look insignificant. He opted not to be petty and point that out. More progress.

“The night I met her, I figured the marriage was a stunt. You needed to clean up your reputation to land CEO and she’s such a fantastic businesswoman. The perfect candidate for a wife.”

“It was a stunt.” No need to hide it now. “Or…it was supposed to be a stunt.”

“I should have known. You’d never choose someone like her without a purpose. Then you fell for her,” Gwyneth added with a pitying shake of her head. “Since we split, your dates were temporary and easy to blow off. Merina is neither of those things.”

“She was supposed to be
both
of those things,” he said, remembering the moment of genius when he’d hatched his plan.

“Well.” Gwyneth stood. “You’re an idiot.”

“On that, you and Merina see eye to eye.”

“Take a shower.” She stood and took his coffee. “I’m leaving.”

“That’s it? You came here to dole out your unsolicited advice and now you’re leaving?”

“Make sure you shave. Women don’t like too much scruff.” She gestured to his face and he scowled.

“Merina does.” He ran his fingers over his bristled jaw, remembering all the times she’d done the same. She once commented how she liked the scrape of his chin over the inside of her thighs. He smiled to himself.

Goddamn. He loved her so much even that smile hurt.

Gwyneth rinsed his mug in the sink as he stood and half hobbled across the room. She wasn’t kidding. He needed a shower. He paused, hand on the bathroom door. “Hey.”

She looked up.

“Hayes is a dick,” he said. And because he would be downing scotch by the mouthful right now if Gwyneth hadn’t barged in, he added, “Thank you.”

A small nod. “You’re welcome.”

He took a fast but thorough shower, emerging into his suite with a towel around his waist and scrubbing his hair with another. Gwyneth was gone, his coffee mug upside down, drying on a dishtowel.

His lips quirked when he saw one of his dress shirts tossed over his desk. A Post-it note stuck to the collar read, “
you faced your past, now go get your future
.” He slipped the shirt on, his smile falling the moment he spotted what was on his bed. The divorce papers.

She’d opened the envelope. An envelope containing more than their decree. On top of Merina’s signature was a wedding ring.

His wife’s ring.
Now your ex-wife.

Panic seized his chest as reality sank in.
Finally
, and deep enough that his heart cracked right down the middle. He remembered the day he’d given it to her.

The moment he’d seen her wearing the wedding dress in the shop. The instant he slid the soldered bands onto her hand during the ceremony. And when she kissed him, feeling the coolness of the ring on his cheek. The way the diamond glinted at the Van Heusen when she handed him the business card that read
Merina Crane
.

Their shared past flashed in his memory.

The nights in their bedroom. The mornings in the shower. That day in the kitchen. The evening she’d come here and slapped him in the face.

His knees threatened to give, and he grabbed the nightstand to keep from dropping. His hands shook. This wasn’t panic. This was devastation.

Similar to when he lost his mom, a veil of dread cloaked him. He remembered when she died, thinking he’d never hug her again. He’d never hear her voice again, and worst of all, he’d never have the chance to tell her he loved her. Not ever again.

With Merina, he was a chance to do all of those things. Hug her. Hear her voice. And no matter what she felt for him now, even if she didn’t want to hear it, he’d tell her for the first time that he loved her.

That he’d been lying, to her and to himself, for too long.

Even if she didn’t love him any longer, she deserved to know. And he wouldn’t let another minute pass without telling her.

He snagged a pair of jeans off the floor as lightning streaked the sky. Rain poured down in sheets and he let out a dry laugh.

Perfect
.