Dirty Billions: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance: (A Chicago Suits Second Chance Romance) (23 page)

I
buzzed
Jay up and awaited his arrival at the door.  I hiked the strapless fuchsia dress up one last time.  It would be a struggle to not keep pulling at it during dinner but I would have to force myself.

The noise of the elevator door opening carried down the hall, and Jay’s footsteps rushed over the carpet.  I didn’t wait for him to knock, and opened the door.

“Hi Beautiful,” Jay said, his eyes roaming over me.

He was wearing another pair of jeans that clung to his thighs.  I couldn’t wait for him to turn around to get a look at his ass in them.  On top he wore a buttoned dress shirt that stretched tight over his muscles.

Jay held out a bouquet of sunflowers. Our fingers brushed as I accepted them from him, the touch rousing. Attached to the bottom of the bouquet was a DVD of The Clock. My heart paused when I saw it. I can’t believe he even remembers that conversation.

“I hope you still have a DVD player.”

“Thank you, I love them, both the flowers and the movie. I haven’t watched it in ages,” I said, and went up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

As I leaned into him, he planted his hand on my hip, sending electricity throughout me.  We stayed still like that for a moment, before I moved aside to let him into my condo.

“I thought we could watch it tonight.”

“That’s a great idea. I’ll put these in some water,” I said, waving the sunflowers and walking to the kitchen area.

“It smells wonderful in here,” he said.

“I hope you like lasagna.”

“Love it.  See you’ve still got the jeans on the wall.”

“Of course, they stay there until the day I can wear them.”

Jay laughed.  “Here, I also brought bubbles.”  He held out a foil topped bottle. 

“Ah, you didn’t have to do that.  It’s too much.”

“No it isn’t.”  He pulled off the foil and the little wire cage.  With expertise, he pushed his thumbs against the cork and it popped.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any champagne glasses.”

“That doesn’t matter, regular wine glasses will do.”

I pulled some out of the cupboard, and he poured us each a glass.

“Thanks,” I said as he passed me one.

“A toast, to a wonderful dinner with,” Jay paused, his eyes boring into me, “the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of dining with.”

A lump formed in my throat at his words.  And I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was being sincere.  I chinked my glass to his, wishing I could find some kind words to say back to him.

Instead, I set my glass down and kissed him.

His lips were wet with champagne, and fizzled on my lips.  He pulled me tight against his body while our mouths explored each other.  My heart thudded in my chest, not quite believing the only thing that had kept me going through my hellish week was actually happening.

I pressed myself a little harder against him, squeezing out all the air between us.  The exposed skin on my shoulders zinged underneath the pressure of his fingertips.  I urged him to take a few steps backwards until he was standing beside the sofa.  Thank goodness for bijoux living.  I took another step, sending him toppling backwards onto the sofa, and me with him.

“Whoa,” he blurted as he tumbled but found my lips again to continue our kiss.

In our tumble, my breasts popped out of my dress and partially out of my strapless bra.  But Jay didn’t seem to notice.  Or if he did, he didn’t react.  Instead his hands caressed my exposed back, then ran over my dress and stopped on my behind.

I let out a soft moan of approval as his hand lingered on me and pressed into my cheeks.  His hardened cock dug into me, with incredible restraint, I refrained from reaching down and grabbing it.

* * *

W
ith me on
top of him, he craned his head to nuzzle my neck, trailing kisses to my shoulders.  I reached up and ran my fingers through his luxurious hair.  Without warning, he hoisted me up so that my breast dangled on his lips, making me gasp.

His wet tongue lapped at my breast, working its way closer and closer to my nipple, still hidden in my bra.  He reached the edge of my bra and pulled it aside with his teeth.

The oven timer bleeped.  Again and again.  I cursed it.

“You need to get that,” Jay said.

“No, just ignore it.”  But it wasn’t going to stop until I pushed the button.

He pushed me off of him and sat.  “You’ve worked hard on it, you don’t want it to burn.”

“Trust me, it’s not hard to make, and it’s lasagna, the worst that will happen is it browns a little on top.”  The high pitched beeping continued.

Jay stood, “Get it.”

I walked to the oven, wondering how he had managed to order me to do something.  Before I knew it, he was alongside me, holding the plates while I cut two pieces from the pan.

We sat opposite each other at my little two seater table.  At least he seemed to be enjoying my cooking.  And hungry.  He looked hungry.  Maybe that’s why he was inhaling my mediocre lasagna.  Maybe that’s why he stopped our activities on the sofa when the timer went.

“I have a confession,” he said.

I pulled the forkful of food away from my mouth to listen.  “What?”

“I, um.  I don’t know how to say this.”

My skin prickled and my brow creased.  This was weird.  Definitely weird.

He continued.  “I stopped earlier,” he gestured towards the sofa, “because I didn’t want to do anything until you knew the truth.”

I set my fork down, the food falling from it, and thought of Matt.  “What are you talking about?”

He swallowed and shuffled in his seat.  “I wanted you to know how much I care about you.  More than care.  I’m really,” he paused, “into you, and I thought it was important for you to know before we, you know.”

Shit.  Now I feel like a scummy scumbag.  Should I tell him I don’t want a serious relationship?  Especially when I’m about thirty minutes away from having my bare skin pressed up against his?

I smiled and picked up my fork.  “You had me scared there for a minute.  I thought you were going to tell me you’re not who I think you are.”

He smiled back, his lips tight together.  He didn’t say anything else, but picked up his fork and continued to eat.  The remainder of our meal was quiet, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Matt and what he’d done to me.  And how I had to tell Jay I wasn’t looking for anything serious.

I
cleared
our empty plates and sat back down opposite him, twirling the wine in my glass.

“I didn’t mean to scare you earlier,” he said grinning, “forget I said anything.”

Can’t un-hear the heard, Jay.  But his words relaxed me a little, and his grin relaxed me a whole lot.  How was it possible for me to have such a perfect specimen of a man in my home?

I smiled at him, “Are you ready for dessert?”

“Not quite.  You seem stressed, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”  Do I tell him?  This is my chance.  I don’t want a relationship, just say it already.  “Just a bad week at work is all.”

Jay perked up, “Why, what happened?”

“My boss has it in for me and has been on my ass all week.”  I took a long drink of my wine to cope with the thought of Calvin.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I sent out a bunch of resumes.  I know I haven’t been with the company long and it will look bad, but I’ve got to get out before I’m forced out,” I said.

“Why would you be forced out?”  I felt like Jay was grilling me.

“Realistically?  Calvin hates me because I threaten him.  He’s never had a good idea, is clearly in over his head and knows I could expose him any time.”

“How?”

“I have proof, a stack of emails I printed before he had the chance to delete them, of him asking me the most basic questions.”

“So why don’t you?”

I shrugged.  “I guess I’m not that kind of person.”

Jay leaned forward, his head nearly reaching my side of the table.  “Give those emails to his boss on Monday.”

“Maybe.”

“No.  Do it.  I mean it.”  The sudden forcefulness of his voice and his aggressive body language unnerved me.

“Why?  Is that what you did in your last job?  How did that work out for you?” I snapped.

Jay shook his head, but didn’t lean back from my side of the table.  “Abbie, this isn’t about me.”

“This isn’t about an unemployed man giving me job advice?  I have a mortgage to pay you know.  Not everyone can swan around unconcerned about having any income.”

He leaned away, but sat and stared at me.  My skin itched wherever his eyes bore into me.

“Do you even try to find a job?”

“Abbie, it’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then, Jay?”  I spat his name.  “What have you done?  Have you taken any classes?  Brushed up your skills?"

He remained silent, and I carried on my little tirade.  “I mean, seriously, how hard is it to find a job in IT?  Do you at least consult?  Don’t you get any self satisfaction from working?”

The breath being forced through Jay’s nose was the only sound in the room.  But he still didn’t say anything.  I don’t know why but I couldn’t stop.  I paused to let him respond, but he sat there, staring at me.  I wanted to shake a reaction out of him.  And I wanted to smack myself for caring, I brought him here to fuck me, not justify his existence to me.  But I couldn’t help myself.

My tone got even harsher.  “How do you live?  Off a pile of your daddy’s money?  I mean really, who gallivants around all day, drinking overpriced coffees and having champagne in the park?”

Before I could react, he stood and walked out the door.  I sat, frozen in place.  The hottest man who'd ever shown any interest in me was sitting in my condo, only moments away from ravishing me on my bed, and I drove him out.  Why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut? 

* * *

I
finished
the rest of the bottle of red.  I went to the fridge, pulled the spoon out of the neck of the champagne bottle, and finished it.  The whole time I was trying to keep my mind from whirring.  I am so stupid.  Repeat.

Over and over, I’d pick up my phone and set my phone back down.  Jay hadn’t texted.  The drunker I got, the more antsy I became.  The antsier I became, the more I had to hike my dress back up.  I’d been trying not to throw anything, but I broke down, lifted a scatter cushion high over my head and chucked it across the room.  It didn’t make me feel any better.

The action had caused my tit to pop out of my dress and my bra.  For the zillionth time that evening, I started to hitch my dress back up.  In my drunken anguish I looked down at my sad, lonely boob.  A tit that mere hours ago was being kissed and sucked by Jay.  Gorgeous, fun, sexy Jay.  My womb contracted at the thought of my loss.  How could I undo this entire evening?  Take it right back to the sofa?

Without further thought, I pushed my dress and bra down around my waist and took a selfie.  I cropped my head out and left a slight bit of my pink dress so there could be no doubt of whose tits they were.  I texted it to Jay, with no words.  Heh, my first foray into sexting.  I toasted myself with my empty glass.

* * *

M
y phone rang
the following morning.  My heart leapt, but it was Jenny.  I couldn’t face talking to her and hit reject.

I’d barely slept all night, I was too busy checking my phone for any response from Jay, but it had been radio silence.  Countless times, I’d type out a big long apology - for both my behavior at dinner and the sexting, and countless times I’d deleted what I’d typed.  I should phone him, talk to him and apologize like a normal person but I didn't have the courage.

Nor could I face telling Jenny what had happened.

I dragged myself out of bed and rummaged through my bathroom drawer for painkillers.  My head throbbed, I was paying the price for drowning my sorrows but I deserved all the emotional and physical pain I was suffering for the way I’d treated Jay.

By noon I still hadn’t heard anything from him though Jenny had texted a wink.  I guess she figured he’d stayed the night.  And that I was wrapped in his arms right now, having morning sex.  Which I should have been.  Could have been.  If only I’d kept my big mouth shut.

By early evening I still hadn’t eaten and put another piece of lasagna on a plate.  I sat in the same seat I’d been sitting on last night when I’d decided to verbally rip apart my houseguest.  Rude!  I had been plain rude and my poor, dearly departed mother would be ashamed I’d treated anyone that way, whether they’d deserved it or not.  Regardless of whether I’d been trying to get naked with them or not.

I picked up my phone.

S
orry
.  My behavior was inexcusable.

A
few deep
breaths later I managed to push send.  It was too difficult to sit in the same place, looking across at the empty seat across from me.  I picked up my plate and moved to the sofa.

After every bite of food, I’d pick up my phone and check for a reply.  There was no need to do this, I had the volume set to maximum, and the vibration turned on.  Still, I couldn’t help myself.  Hope is a difficult thing to quash.