The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) (10 page)

M
aggie twisted
the bedsheets around her fingers and shoved her other hand into her hair, tilting her head back on the pillow as a wave of sharp pleasure shot through her groin. She moaned, a broken sound from deep in her throat, and spread her thighs wider, giving Declan more access.

Weak morning sunlight highlighted the slope of his shoulders from where he huddled between her legs, face buried against her pussy, midway towards giving her a morning orgasm she’d no doubt be feeling for the rest of the day.

His approach was thorough—two fingers pushed inside her, curved
just so
to make her shake all the way from her rapid heart down to her toes; tongue relentless on her clit, working it over with a single-minded focus that made her head spin, her skin light up with the fire of ecstasy, colors bursting into her vision, and she was gonna come—cresting higher and higher and,
God
, she couldn’t breathe, pleasure flooding every inch of her body and seizing her lungs.

She trembled as she tipped over the edge into orgasm, hips convulsing and Declan groaning, removing his fingers to tongue at her entrance, taste the pleasure pouring from her as she clamped her thighs around his head and begged for mercy.

Then he was crawling up her body, throbbing cock in hand, his eyes dark and his cheeks flushed, forehead prickled with sweat and all of him, every part of this perfect man, radiating such powerful
need
that she couldn’t help but whimper, part her lips, grip his thighs as he settled over her chest and fed his swollen member into her mouth.

Bracing one hand on the headboard behind her, he lifted up and angled his hips to better slide his cock over her tongue, using his other hand to grip a handful of her hair, and thrusting slowly, torturously into her mouth, starting a rhythm that made her want to cry with how arousal lit anew in her blood.

When it was over, after he groaned her name and spent himself, he settled beside her on the bed and pulled her to him, tugging her leg up over his still her sopping-wet pussy pressed against his softening cock. She shivered.

“You’re amazing,” he said to her, voice thick with the lingering aftershocks of his own orgasm.

“So are you.” Her hips jolted with a spark of electric heat through her groin, making her suck in a sharp breath. “God, I’m still feeling it.”

He hummed under his breath and took a moment to palm her breast, thumb a nipple, before they both settled into a comfortable silence, the only sounds their calming breaths and the soft strokes of his fingers over her skin.

A while later, he said, “I need to go into the office today.”

She sighed, still full of contentment, her eyes shut and the warmth of his body lulling her into almost falling asleep. “Okay.”

“Don’t leave,” he murmured, pulling her tight all of a sudden, pressing his mouth to the top of her head.

She huffed a tired laugh. “I have to go home at some point.”

“I like coming back to you.”

“My neighbors are gonna start thinking I’ve been kidnapped,” she said, even as her stomach somersaulted at his words. “Mrs. Wilkins will
definitely
try to steal my parking space.”

“Let me deal with Mrs. Wilkins,” he said, and then he was moving, rolling her onto her back and leaning up on his elbow, smirking at her as he pushed his other hand down, slipping his fingers between the folds of her aching pussy.

She swallowed thickly. “I can’t go again.”

“Yeah, you can,” he told her, eyes dark and intense, thumb flicking over her clit and making her gasp. “You will.”

She was a hair’s breadth away from spreading her legs and welcoming him back in when her phone beeped, and she reached for it on the nightstand, instinct overriding her desire for another earth-shattering round of pleasure. She’d been waiting for a particular text message for nearly twenty-four hours now, and she grinned when she saw her brother’s name on the screen.

“Hold on…” she muttered vaguely, already opening the message as Declan sighed in mock irritation and flopped onto his back.

The message said:
1 p.m. @ Gio’s

The brevity of the text would’ve usually worried her, but she was so relieved to hear from him at all that she didn’t let it set any worry or doubt in her mind.

“Just my brother,” she said offhandedly to Declan, typing out a response, “give me a sec—”

He pushed up onto an elbow, looking at her with sudden alertness. “Grant?”

“Yeah.” She blinked at him, at the crease between his brows. “We’re having lunch today. What’s wrong?”

Frown deepening, he opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “Nothing. Just—I’ve been trying to get a hold of him, that’s all.”

She hit send on her message response and dropped the phone on the bed, rolled onto her side to give Declan her full attention, wanting to hear more. It wasn’t like Grant to avoid communication from his friends—or, indeed, his sister. But it had taken him nearly a full day to answer her invitation to lunch, and now it turned out he was giving Declan the silent treatment, too. Her stomach twisted. “He’s not answering your calls?” she asked Declan, and then, as an understatement: “That’s weird.”

He quirked a brow as if in resignation, took her hand between them, and laced their fingers together. He wasn’t saying much, but she could feel the worry pouring off him. The tension.

“Should I tell him you’re looking to hang out?”

He didn’t answer her right away. A storm was developing in his eyes, putting her on edge, and she could almost sense the ocean of words he wanted to spill. Eventually he lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed the backs of her knuckles, and said in a voice dripping with veiled significance, “Tell him I need to catch up with him about that thing we’d discussed this past summer.”

M
aggie couldn’t help
the gasp that escaped her as she rounded the corner and spotted Grant standing outside Gio’s. He looked like an omen of death against a backdrop of colorful Italian cuisine—thin, hunched over, face gaunt and pale; and as she got closer, she saw eyes sunken, hair raggedy, temples clammy, and a hand that shook as he reached up to rub his ashen cheek.

She almost didn’t want to catch his attention—there was a part of her, a part threatening to spill out on a sob, that so very desperately wanted to turn around and walk away, act like she’d never even seen this.

But she couldn’t do that. He was her brother, and right now he needed her, even if the sight of him terrified her.

“Grant—”

He startled as she touched his arm, and then he turned around. This close, all she could see now was dead eyes and an unshaven jaw. “What time d’you call this?” he asked her. “Come on, let’s go get a table. I’m craving that carbonara—” He was trying to pull her towards the door, but she couldn’t go inside now and act like she was unaware of the state of him.

“Grant, stop. Look at me.”

He paused, but didn’t quite look at her. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?
What’s up?
” She yanked her wrist out of his hold and grabbed him, forced him to look directly at her. “Have you looked in a mirror?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw, embarrassment twisting his mouth. “It’s just this damn flu…”

“No, it’s not,” she said flatly. She wasn’t going to let him fob her off again. “You look like death. Please let me have a proper look at you. I think you need some serious help.”

Something about her words angered him, because he shoved her away none too gently and thrust his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders and frowning deeply.

“Will you stop fussing, Jesus Christ. I’m fine.”

“I’m worried about you!”

“Mind your own business!” It was obvious he immediately regretted his outburst, eyes widening as he said, “I’m sorry,” with muttered contrition. “
Sis
,” he added, when she hesitated in her response and considered walking away, “I’m sorry. I just…I feel like crap, okay? I can’t handle arguing with you right now.”

“We need to see a doctor.”

“I told you, I’ve already seen one. He told me to get some rest and I’ll be all right in a week or two.”

“That was then,” she said. “It’s obviously progressed, whatever this is. I’m gonna call Dr. O’Malley.” Digging around in her purse for her phone, she jumped slightly when his hand suddenly clamped around her forearm, halting her movements.

“I said no. All right?” There was an edge to him she hadn’t seen before, and it scared her. Especially when he added, his tone harsh and unapologetic, “Deal with your own shit, Maggie, and keep your nose out of mine.”

Slowly, she pulled her arm from his tight hold and stepped back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know you’re hooking up with him.” He said it viciously, like he wanted to hurt her with his knowledge. Her stomach sank down to her toes.

“It’s not like that.”

“Don’t come crying to me when it all goes wrong,” he spat, face twisting aggressively, and Jesus Christ, who was this man? Because he wasn’t her brother. Not even close.

She could’ve cried.

“What’s happening to you?”

The broken note in her question reached some part of him that hadn’t been taken over by this monster, and his face softened instantly, horror lighting up his features.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out for her. When she didn’t accept his hand, continued to stare at him, he added, “Please, can you just leave it? Aren’t you meant to be a nurse? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a sick person before.”

“You’re my brother.”

“I can look after myself.”

They reached an impasse, staring at each other, Grant with an eyebrow raised as if in challenge. And suddenly Maggie was too tired to fight this. With everything going on in her life, she couldn’t go to war with her brother, too. She just had to trust that he had a handle on things, that he’d let her in if it got too serious. She had to trust
him
.

Sighing, she gave a weary nod and gestured for him to enter the restaurant. Sounds of life filtered back into her awareness—passersby in the street, cars, a baby crying somewhere nearby. A man in an expensive suit swept past her, his watch glinting in the sunlight, and Maggie was reminded of what Declan had told her earlier.

“Oh, Declan had a message for you, by the way,” she said to Grant’s back, following him into the doorway of Gio’s. “You’re not answering his calls?”

He went stiff, pausing with his hand on the door handle. When he spoke, it was with careful precision. “What did he say?”

Maggie frowned. “Something to do with catching up with you about something you discussed this summer.”

It took a moment for Grant to respond, and then he let out a weirdly strangled laugh. “Oh that. It’s nothing,” he said, releasing the door handle and turning to face her. Maggie was starting to wonder if they would ever make it inside this restaurant. “Just some stupid plan we made. Tell you the truth, Mags, I think I’ll be better of just heading home to bed. D’you mind?” He wasn’t looking at her—scratching his stubbly jaw in a vaguely agitated manner, staring at some point past her shoulder.

“I—no, of course not,” Maggie said, blinking at the abrupt turn of events. “Can I come with you? Maybe I can clean up your place a bit, get some fresh air in there.”

“It’s all right, the housekeeper’s been taking care of me.” He leaned forward and gave her a distracted kiss on the cheek, and said, “I’ll call you,” before disappearing off down the street, leaving Maggie in a spin, her mind trailing in the wake of the sudden abandonment.

That afternoon, rather than sit around feeling sorry for herself for yet another day, she decided to research. If Grant wasn’t willing to figure out exactly what was wrong with him, then she could at least give it a go. She knew Dr. O’Malley couldn’t speak to her about her brother’s medical problems, so she decided against calling him directly and instead made an appointment for Grant for the following week. Maybe he’d be angry at her interfering, but it was better than him wasting away under the weight of whatever illness had taken hold of him.

He was usually so full of life—as the owner of a sports equipment franchise, he could often be found up on a slope or a climbing wall, or racing around a track and jumping hurdles. Grant Emerson did not like to sit still, not even after his accident last winter. He’d been in Vermont for a skiing trip with the guys—come to think of it, Maggie was pretty sure Declan had attended that trip, too—and he’d hit a bend the wrong way, catching his ski beneath him and managing to shatter his ankle. Watching how badly he took to bed rest for the next few weeks, she’d had to laugh at his attempts to sneak out and at least head to work. Not even a horrific fracture could take away his vibrancy, his thirst for action.

Only once had Maggie ever seen Grant in a bad state, and that was this past summer, when he’d had a stomach bug for a couple weeks. Back then, for a brief time, he looked much the same as he did now, only less deathly. But she’d hardly had time to worry about him before he bounced back to normal, healthy Grant—thanks to Declan, she knew, as he’d made it a priority to visit Grant almost daily, and no doubt made sure he was looking after himself. Not that she ever came face-to-face with Declan, still smarting from how soundly he’d dumped her during their second date some weeks previous.