The Wedding Rescue, Book Two (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) (2 page)

A
s soon as
Dylan was gone, I sank back onto the bench. Holy shit. I’d thought the night before had been hot. Then, he hadn’t really let me do much other than follow his lead. I don’t really know where I got the idea to wash him, but the sight of him fully naked, in the bright light of the bathroom, was too much.

It that body was the result, I fully approved of him getting up early to hit the gym. I’d known he was tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, based on the way he wore his suits. Seeing Dylan fully naked was a completely different story. Defined pecs, six pack abs and a tight butt, with well-muscled legs. Even his feet were sexy. I saw the soap, and it seemed like the perfect excuse to get my hands all over him.

I don’t know where I got the idea to clean him with my breasts. I’d never done anything like that before, but by the time I’d washed half his body, I was so crazy with lust it felt like a perfectly normal idea. I had to do that again. The scrape of his chest hair against my nipples, the heated flare in his eyes every time I wiggled and slid my breasts against him - it was the hottest thing I’d ever done, aside from actually having sex with him.

The sex had been different this time. It’s not that I had any complaints about the night before. He’d come three times, once in my mouth and twice while we were having sex. I’d come four times. Four times! It had been amazing, hot and passionate. This was more. His mouth on mine, our eyes connecting as I moved on top of him, that gentle kiss to my temple as he left the shower. This time, it felt like more than sex.

Shaking my head at myself, I rinsed one more time under the rainfall showerhead and turned the water off. No spinning daydreams out of Dylan Kane, I told myself. You made a deal. He wants to fuck you for the weekend, not make you his girlfriend or fall in love with you. Do not get attached. Take the orgasms, rub your sisters’ noses in your unbelievably hot date, and then let it go.

I was trying to listen to myself. The last thing I needed was another broken heart after what happened with Steven. Not that he really broke my heart, but the humiliation and anger over what he’d done was bad enough. I didn’t need to fall for a billionaire playboy who was only looking for a good time. Resolving to stay in control of my emotions, I concentrated on putting on my lotion, drying my hair and adding some makeup so I looked a little more sophisticated. I needed all the armor I could get if I was going to keep up with Dylan.

I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, to find my clothes hadn’t been put away neatly like my toiletries. I checked the walk-in closet and found mainly Dylan’s things, rows of suits, dress shoes, casual wear, all neatly folded or hung in a closet bigger than my bedroom at home.

In a small section near the door, I discovered a few items of women’s clothing. Three dresses, two pairs of jeans I knew cost several hundred dollars each. A few blouses, two tailored skirts and a selection of shoes. Beside it all, a drawer full of lingerie. All of it top quality. I was pretty sure I recognized the black spike heels with the distinctive red sole as Louboutins. Exactly the kind of clothes a woman who belonged with Dylan Kane would wear.

My heart sank. There was no commitment between us, but I wasn’t a cheater. I didn’t cheat on my own boyfriend and not with someone else’s. He’d been so open with me in front of his employees, I’d assumed that meant he didn’t have anything to hide. Maybe he didn’t. He was obscenely wealthy, he owned the casino, and he was well known. If I read the paper more often, I would have recognized him on sight at the bar. Maybe his girlfriend didn’t care if he had fun on the side as long as she got to hang part of her exclusive designer wardrobe in his penthouse closet.

I sat on the bench in the middle of the closet, my stomach twisting in disappointment, trying to figure out what to do. I wanted to stay. Dylan was charming. He was fun, and he was the best sex I’d ever had by far. I only had until Sunday with him anyway, which was barely two days. I wasn’t the one with a girlfriend. I was unattached. I could do whatever I wanted.

No you can’t. Sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend will make you feel like shit. You know it will
. And it would. I already felt guilty and, while I
had
slept with another woman’s boyfriend, at least I’d done it unknowingly. If I didn’t leave, I’d be doing it on purpose. The whole idea made me feel cheap. Sure, making a deal to sleep with a guy in exchange for his pretending to be my boyfriend for the weekend wasn’t exactly classy, but when I’d thought we were both free it had seemed like fun. Crazy, unexpected, not like me at all kind of fun. Now it didn’t feel like fun at all.

I stood, cinched my towel tighter around my chest, and prepared to face Dylan. I would rather have done it in anything other than a towel, but I still didn’t know where my clothes were and I wasn’t going to borrow his girlfriend’s, not that they would fit. Any girlfriend of Dylan’s serious enough to have her clothes in his closet would be skinny and perfect

Dylan was standing in the living room of the penthouse, dressed in faded jeans and an unbuttoned white shirt, his sexy feet bare on the polished wood floor. He had his phone to his ear, talking in a low voice as he absently took in the view through the window. Seeing me, he said a quick goodbye and hung up. I looked around the room, avoiding Dylan’s eyes, feeling my cheeks heat at the sight of the tall window behind him. I’d let him fuck me against that window. Let him show me to the room service waiter. I hadn’t felt ashamed then. I did now.

“Do you want me to order breakfast in, or would you rather go out?” he asked, still holding the phone in his hand.

“I, uh, I can’t have breakfast. I have to go,” I stuttered out, backing away from his suddenly narrowed eyes.

“Where do you have to go?” he asked, in a smooth, calm voice that didn’t match his eyes. “Did something happen?”

“No. I just…have to go.”

I backed away as he rounded the coffee table. In my head I was berating him for making me a cheater, for betraying a woman who’d put her trust in him, for being just another asshole. The angry words rattled in my brain, unable to reach my mouth. They felt too vulnerable, as if I’d let him hurt me when we didn’t have that kind of relationship. He’d never promised me anything other than a date for the weekend, and so far he was delivering on that. I didn’t have to stay and be party to his cheating, but I wasn’t sure I had a right to my anger or my growing sense of hurt. That was for the girlfriend he’d betrayed. I didn’t want him to know he’d gotten to me. I might have unwisely developed some feelings for him, but I was going to keep them to myself.

“Tell me why you have to go, Leigha,” he said, stalking closer.

“I…I can’t stay.” I took another few steps backwards, toward the door.

“Are you alright?” He’d reached me by then, taking my arms in his hands, halting my backward progress.

“I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

“Why? And don’t tell me you’re fine. You look miserable. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I was looking for my clothes,” I said, yet again unable to refuse a direct order from this man.

“And?”

“And I found her things. Your girlfriend’s clothes.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, the side of his mouth curling up. The sight of his amusement was too much. I tore myself away, stepping back until my shoulders hit the door of the penthouse.

“I did. I’m not a cheater. I’m not going to stay here with you like this while there’s another woman out there thinking you’re hers. I can’t. The deal is off. Thank you for last night and everything, but I’m going.” On the tail of my little speech, I whirled to open the door.

“You’re leaving like that? Practically naked? No purse?” Now he sounded like he was laughing at me. I fumed, frustration and disappointment welling in my chest until I felt my eyes fill.

“Where are my things?” I demanded. He reached for me, but I slapped his hand away. “Tell me where my things are so I can leave.”

“What if I told you my girlfriend wouldn’t care that you were here?” He asked, reaching for me again. I ducked away, retreating into the living room where I could get some space from him.

“I care,” I said, humiliated by the tears coursing down my cheeks. Why wouldn’t he just give me my things and let me go? “Please just give me my clothes and my purse so I can leave.”

I remembered bringing my purse up with me, but it was nowhere to be seen now. It was going to be bad enough to go to the rehearsal dinner and wedding dateless after showing up with Dylan last night. I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be if I had to call my Mom from the lobby, wearing nothing but a towel, and ask her to let me in her room. Too late, I wished I’d asked her for her room number the night before, but there hadn’t been a reason to think I’d need it.

“Give me my things, Dylan. Please,” I asked again, wishing I could have done this without crying. I wanted to be strong and fierce. Righteous. Not defeated.

“No,” Dylan said. He was across the room before I could think up an escape route. He grabbed for my arms again, this time catching hold before I could push him away. He held me still with one hand while the other snatched the end of my loosening towel and tugged it free. Fresh tears spilled from my eyes. As if this hadn’t been humiliating enough, now I was completely naked. Dylan pulled me close, plastering me to the length of his body, his arms a steel cage around me. His heat was a discordant comfort, the last thing I wanted touching me and yet somehow soothing. I yanked back against him, to no effect. I was trapped.

“You’re not leaving me,” he said, bending his head until his lips reached my ear. “Not until I decide you can go. And I’m not done with you yet.”

“You are. I’m not staying here with you. I didn’t want it to be this way. I thought you’d tell me if there was someone else before we started this.” I hated the hitch in my voice. I’d never been an easy crier, but frustration always got me. The added hurt and disappointment of realizing Dylan was a cheating asshole didn’t help.

“I would have,” he said. “There isn’t someone else.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I whispered into his chest. I was losing my fight. It was over, so why couldn’t he just let me leave? He couldn’t think that after all this, I was going to give in and stay.

“I’m not lying.”

Before I could stop him, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to his bedroom, holding me as if I didn’t weigh anything. I hadn’t been carried by anyone since I was a child, and the novel sensation was so shocking it slowed my reaction. He had me in his room before I began to push at his shoulders. His grip was rock solid. I wasn’t getting down until he put me down.

When we reached the small section of women’s clothes in his closet, he returned me to my feet. Hands on my shoulders, ready to stop me if I offered further resistance, he said,

“Look at them.”

“What do you mean?” I didn’t understand. I was looking at them. They were beautiful clothes, so who wouldn’t look? He let out a low growl of annoyance.

“Don’t move,” he said, and reached for a navy blue sundress splashed with brightly colored flowers. Pulling it off the hanger, he folded back the bodice and tore out the price tag before unzipping the dress and dropping it over my head.

I couldn’t quite catch up. My eyes focused on a little black dress beside the empty hanger. I saw a flash of white and realized it, too, still had its tag. So did the jeans. I’d missed that before. Embarrassment and hope tangled inside me as I let Dylan lead me into the bathroom. He zipped the back of the sundress, drawing the fabric snug around my torso.

I never would have picked a dress like this for myself. I would have thought the straps too thin and the top too skimpy for my breasts. I would have been wrong. The sundress highlighted my curves without overexposing them, making the most of my breasts while my waist looked small in comparison. I met Dylan’s eyes in the mirror, unable to think of a single thing to say.

“Those are your clothes, Leigha.”

“What? Why? Where are my things?” When did he have time to buy me clothes?

“Your things are still packed in your suitcases,” he said, stroking my hair off my shoulders as we both took in the perfect fit of the dress.

“Can I have them back?” I asked. I liked this dress better than anything I’d packed, but I still needed my things. My wardrobe wasn’t big enough that I could sacrifice a whole suitcase of it.

“No,” Dylan answered. “I don’t think I trust you with it. If you’d had it, you would have snuck out on me, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “Maybe.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” He actually looked confused. For a man who seemed to have all the moves when it came to women, it was clear there were some things he really didn’t get. Maybe I should have felt bad about my false accusation, but I was pretty sure any other woman would have had the same reaction to finding another woman’s clothes in the closet of the man they were sleeping with.

I just shook my head in response. If he didn’t get why I’d been a little irrational, I wasn’t going to be able to explain it to him. Instead, I said, “I really don’t like cheating. The idea that you might have a girlfriend made me a little crazy.” He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. I kept thinking I wasn’t the right kind of woman for him, but the sight of us in the bathroom mirror, me cradled in his arms, his face pressed to the top of my head - we looked like we belonged. Placing a soft kiss to the side of my mouth, he said,

“My father cheated on my mom so often he destroyed her. By the time she died when I was fifteen, she was broken inside. She loved him, and he just didn’t seem to care. I’m not an angel, but I don’t cheat, Leigha. I wouldn’t do that to a woman.”

I nodded in response, not sure what to say. He kept surprising me. I followed him when he took my hand and walked me back into the bedroom. “So when did you have time to get all of this?” I gestured to the clothes hanging in the closet.

“Pick a pair of shoes and let’s go out. I’ll tell you at breakfast.”

At the second mention of breakfast, I realized I was starving. I was also ready to ditch all these heavy emotions and go have some fun. After I put on some underwear. The top drawer beside the hanging clothes was filled with lingerie. Lace and silk panties, negligees, bras, and other bits of fluff overflowed the drawer. The dress had built in support, so I didn’t need a bra, but there was no way I was leaving the penthouse without panties. I wasn’t that bold. I slipped on a pair of lacy bikinis and pulled them up, taking my time when I felt Dylan’s eyes on my exposed legs and butt.