Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name (45 page)

“Nothing,” I hurriedly tried to explain, never having seeing him this emotionally exposed before. “My girls and I went to a club and he showed up there with a group that had your assistant and your ex a part of it. I drank more than I should have and didn’t want to drive myself home, so he gave me a lift.”

“Did he try anything?” Lovello asked in a chilling tone.

“No,” I giggled. “He was on his best behavior. Unbelievably so.”

“Good. I don’t even wanna ask why you were drinking. If it’s because of me, then I’m deeply sorry — or not.”

He lowered his lips to mine, sweeping me into a kiss that reminded me of my interminable love for him. The love that I had for this man could not be washed away with alcohol or be ignored with feigned indifference. For my happiness, loving him was a necessity, and I was going to love this man as if it were my duty.

We didn’t need more words, because our firing passion filled the room with silent whispers from our hearts. Lovello’s kisses grew hungry and aggressive as my hands grew feverish, roaming over the sinews of his back, down his spine and beneath the waistband of his basketball shorts. I grabbed his ass and pressed him into me, his erection strong and mighty and ready for battle — the battle of the sexes. Goodness
, I needed him.

He pulled my top over my head, ripped off my bra and attacked my breasts with animalistic need, cupping them, kneading them and tugging my nipples between his teeth.

“Dios mío, Love. More,” I panted, lifting my hips so he could pull off my pants and panties in one drag.

His shorts went along with the discarded pile. And in one swift move, he was inside me, filling me to capacity. Filling that emptiness that had been there throughout his absence. For every day that he’d not been there, I wanted him to fill me with fierce acquisitiveness.

“Hard, Love. Hard,” I begged. I wanted to be reminded me why I should fight for him. Why I should stake my claim and show that I cared. Yeah, I needed to be
punished
. “Más difícil, bebé. Por favor. Harder,” I cried, as he pounded into me.

Hell, this felt
so
damn good. Was it the alcohol that made me courageous enough to demand such intensity from the man with the biggest size I’d ever had?

Lovello grabbed my legs and bent them, pressing them down to my chest. He pulled out his length, then slowly slid back inside. Slowly and patiently, as I awaited the decision of the jury. Out again … and then, we have a verdict, I was sentenced to capital punishment. Punitive slam after slam inside me with a fierceness that had my lungs overworking with Spanish jabberings that not even
I
understood.

Because he had my legs pinned to my chest, I couldn’t even move, and the position made the penetrations so intense that I could feel them in my stomach. It was pain. Good pain. Pleasurable pain. Pain that I didn’t want to end. Pain that was going to shove me over the edge any … minute … now.

“Said you wanted it hard, right?” Lovello growled through ragged breaths. “Is this hard enough?”
Slam!
“Or this?”
Slam!!
“Answer me, beauts.”
Slam! Slam!! Slam!!!

“Y-y-yes,” I could barely manage to breathe, let alone speak. I was teetering on the edge of something unbalanced, hazardous, unhinged, and with each death slam I wobbled precariously on one leg.

“I want to keep you, beauts,” he breathed. “So whatever you ask for, I’m gonna make damn sure I give it.” He paused and groaned when I squeezed my muscles around him. “So if you … shit, that feels …
shit
… Stop! I’m in control here,” he barks, pressing my legs harder down on my chest. But my unruly muscles refused to behave and continued to squeeze around him.

Lovello made a frustrated growl and crooked his arms under my legs. He ordered me to lock my hands around his neck, then lifted me up off the bed, and, without warning, he slammed me down onto his length. That was it. I exploded like an atomic bomb, calling the Lord’s many different names as I juddered in his hands. Without pause, he continued impaling me on and on. Slamming me down on him with such ease as if I weighed but an ounce. Until I felt his teeth clinging to my flesh as he came violently inside me, a spate of his warm fluids filling me. He tumbled with me back onto the bed. Our breathings harsh and loud.

“I love you, Pretty Boy,” I managed. “More than
Milky Way Milkshak
e.”

He chuckled, still breathing harshly. “Nice, I’m ‘Pretty Boy’ when you love me, and ‘Nelson’ when you hate my guts.”

What wasn’t
nice
, though, was that he couldn’t even return the words. Just as he needed his assurance, I needed mine. “Do you … love me, Love?”

Lovello raised his head to find my gaze, holding my stare without so much as a blink, his brows furrowed in a manner that said: ‘what kind of stupid ass question is that?’ “You had to ask? Isn’t it friggin’ obvious?”

When he saw that I wasn’t satisfied with his answer, he smirked. “Beauts, you can bet 1.1 million dollars that I do.”

XXIV

T
he continuous dinning of my cellphone forayed the peaceful quietness of sleep. I blinked open my eyes to the surroundings of my master bedroom, rays of sunlight lased across the room from both sides, forming asymmetrical shapes while proclaiming it was a new day.

Stretching my arms out over my head, I decided to let the phone ring out to voicemail. But as soon as it stopped, it started again. And such had Lovello grumbling something about turning ‘the damn thing off and come back to bed’. It was Saturday, so he, of course, could sleep in bed all day. I, on the other hand, had business to attend to. On Saturdays, I opened the gym doors at 10am, as opposed to 5:30am on weekdays. So I had a few hours to get ready.

Plucking Lovello’s arm from around me, I slid off the bed and retrieved the hollering cellphone from the nightstand, only to see Zane’s name flashing on the screen. With nimble fingers, I hit the silent option, then peered back over my shoulder at Lovello. He was sound asleep, his nose pressed into the pillow. Why was Zane calling so early in the morning?
Jeez.

Slipping from the bedroom, I started to dial him back, but then a text message chimed in.

My heart,
Just wanted to let you know I’m in your town. Stopped by your place to surprise you, but Bill refused to grant me access. Did you take me off the Access list? I’ve always had the green light in every area of your life, my heart. What’s up with the blockage now?
Anyway, there’s something *important* I want to talk to you about.
Maybe we could go out for dinner later?
Call me,
xox

Phew.
Well that’s a drip of sweat I can wipe away, thanks to Bill. A surprise visit was definitely not something that would’ve played out well this morning. Wait, who took Zane off the list anyway? I shook my head, knowing all too well who did. I’d never even thought about removing Zane from the Access list in order to prevent any unexpected pop-ups at my door while Lovello was here. And that was rather negligent of me, too, seeing that Lovello basically
lived
here. So at this point, I was glad Lovello had been playing the nosy and controlling boyfriend and removed Zane’s name from my Access list.

Heading back to the bedroom, I smiled at the sight of my sleeping angel. The pristine white sheets were draped across his lower half, one leg bent and the other straight, while his upper body rose and fell with each even breath, every muscle relaxed and abased. His inky-dark hair was a major mess on his head, while his long, dark lashes fanned his cheeks, and days old facial hair shadowed his face. The man’s beauty was so ethereal, it was sometimes hard to believe he was a mortal.

I padded to the bathroom, had a quick cold shower, then threw on my robe and navigated down to the kitchen to whip up some breakfast. Of course, Lovello’s jacket from the night before was tossed across the kitchen island, and his pants along with his necktie were pooled at the foot of a bar stool. The guy seemed to think that kitchens were made for undressing. I couldn’t help smiling, though, realizing just how much I’d missed the litter-bug.

Snatching up his pants and necktie off the floor, I draped them over the crook of my arm, then dragged his jacket from the kitchen island. But as I did that, his wristwatch, cellphone and wallet fell to the ground, due to my ignorance that they’d been under the jacket. Awkwardly, I stooped down to retrieve the fallen bearings, making a mental note to plug his lifeless cellphone on the charger. His wallet flipped open as I picked it up, causing most of its loose contents to tumble out. And among the lot of inconsequential things, I spied a pack of condoms — well, one actually, because two of the condoms had already been utilized.

Two, for sure, had been
used
.

On
someone
.

At some time.

But when? Had it been there before we started dating, or after? This sure as hell wasn’t the first time I dropped his wallet. But then, maybe it had just never fallen in a way that would spill its contents. Who remembers, anyway?

I could, one: be rational and resist jumping to conclusions. The half-used packet could’ve been there before he met me. Or two: go bat-shit crazy and fire up an argument, throwing around accusations that he’d been cheating. And lying …

In light of the fact that we’d scarcely made up from a break-up mere hours ago, I decided to go with Option One and returned the contents from whence they came.

“Jesus, what time is it? Can’t believe I skipped devotion,” I heard a groggy Lovello mumble as he dragged himself into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “How come my alarm didn’t go off?”

Bundling his paraphernalia in one hand, I used my other hand to wave his cellphone with a smile that, I instantly noticed, was taking much more effort than it should. “Battery’s dead. I’ll plug it on the charger for you.”

An unidentifiable pain pumped through the arteries of my heart when I peered up at him. And at that moment, I realized that I couldn’t go through with Option One … because I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust that he’d never cheated on me, and I didn’t trust that he truly wasn’t sleeping with Nicole.

The alcohol had died from my system, and sensibility had begun flowing through my brain cells again. The reason he gave last night for his insensitive acts over the past couple of days was implausible. This was Lovello
Sex-Incarnate
Nelson. Why on earth would
he
have an ‘insecurity panic’, thinking that
I
might be bored with him? Women don’t get ‘bored’ with men like
him.
And he was cocky enough to know that.

Suddenly, I felt like I was suffocating and gasping for air to breathe. I needed to be away from him for a while. Needed some time to think.

Making sure that my face revealed nothing, I mumbled that I had to go get ready and started out of the kitchen.

“Wait, so no breakfast? I’ve been longing for some of your banana fritters all week. And Rosa’s no damn good at it. Can’t you just make some before you go?” he whined.

“Maybe tomorrow, babe. I really gotta go. Tish called and there’s this … problem. Tomorrow. I promise,” I lied, ignoring the distrustful gleam in his eyes as I rushed off to the bedroom before he could say anything else.

It was no secret, we
didn’t
trust each other. It was a knot in our relationship that we could never seem to untie.

In record time, I donned black gym shorts, a white tube top, and purple
Skechers
sneakers, along with a purple hoodie tossed over my shoulder. My fingers had scarcely touched the knob of the front door as I made to leave the house, when I felt my body being yanked back in mid-air.

“You’re not leaving here dressed like that,” Lovello stated in an icy tone as he carried me back to the bedroom.