Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (83 page)

“We want to put a stop to what her brother is doing,” Damien said. “
I
want him in jail so he can’t hurt anybody again, but I don’t want this to come out in the news, Chet.”

The lieutenant nodded. His ice gray eyes moving to Sasha. “I understand. Getting him off the streets and out of her hair is no problem. But the other thing, keeping this under the radar, will take some doing.”

“That’s what I thought,” Damien said. “But I don’t care what it takes, I need this done.”

The police officer nodded. “I’ll put someone on this today and you’ll hear from me in a couple of days. Have your lawyer get in touch with me.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Damien stood up to shake his friend’s hand. “I won’t forget this, Chet.”

The police officer chuckled, a rusty sound as if he wasn’t used to laughing. “Neither will I.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

The hotel restaurant felt like they were on top of the world. The Rivue restaurant atop the Galt House Hotel slowly rotated as Sasha and Damien sipped their after-dinner drinks nestled in their private corner of the 25th floor establishment. Breathtaking views of the city by starlight—the Ohio River shimmering and dark but brilliant with spots of light reflecting the buildings. The breathtaking arches of the Kennedy bridge across the water. The high rises that Sasha was used to seeing looming over her but from the rooftop restaurant were at eye-level or lower.

She drew in a deep breath, enjoying what felt like the first free breath she had drawn in months. Across the table from her, Damien sat with his half-finished glass of single malt scotch, watching her. They had had a long and leisurely dinner, a celebration of Sasha’s freedom from the twin tyrannies of her brother’s extortion and the false doping allegations. The meal they had shared was one of the most delicious Sasha had ever eaten – fresh seafood, tender pasta, intoxicating wine. All enjoyed with Damien across the table making her laugh with his wry humor, encouraging her to try new things on the menu. “This chocolate torte is nice. Try it,” he’d said, lifting the fork to her mouth, his blue eyes bright with tenderness.

She’d tried everything he put in her mouth, tasted the flavors that had taken on an even more delicious quality for being shared with him. Creamy risotto fritters. Lobster bisque. A medium rare New York Strip in a rich port wine sauce. Fancy French fries with an actual French name.

Now dinner was done and they sat with their after-dinner drinks enjoying the view of the city that was slowly revolving outside the glass walls of the restaurant. It felt almost surreal. The simplicity of it. The pleasure.

“I can’t believe the craziness is all over,” she said.

The hot apple cider spiked with bourbon and green apple schnapps had relaxed her even more than the meal and Damien’s company. She felt warm and nearly boneless with the simple bliss of their evening together.

“It is,” Damien said. “Your brother is going away for a long time. He won’t hurt or bother you again.”

Sasha lowered her eyes, torn between relief and regret. But she had done what she had to. Now it was time for her to enjoy the peace of mind she had been lacking for far too long now.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Damien.” She reached across the table for his hand, took it in her own. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you with the story before things got so far out of hand. I just—” She sighed, thinking of all the insecurities that had plagued her since fighting her way from the group home and to being a woman able to care for herself, a successful woman who had always been looking back and expecting her past to catch up with her. “I just never imagined that I could rise above my past.”

She’d already told him about her parents, about the group homes she’d endured, how she had made her way into his life. He’d only supported her even more because of her honesty.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you now, Sasha. Your past means nothing to me except that it made you exactly the kind of woman you are today. The perfect one for me. I know your life had been hard before now, and your brother brought it all rushing back to you. But believe me when I say that knowing these things changes nothing about how I feel about you.”

Damien’s fingers curled around hers on top of the table. His lashes fell low over his eyes, their shadows fanning across his cheeks. “I love you, Sasha. All of you. Every part of you.”

She stared at him in astonishment, aware that her mouth had fallen open. Even though she loved Damien, had fallen in love with him, deeply and irrevocably weeks before, she never dreamed he would feel the same way. Never.

“You do?” Of all the dismissive or flip things she wanted to say, that was not one of them.

“Of course I do.” He smiled gently, caressing the backs of her palms with his thumbs. “It’s not every woman I allow into my bed, you know. It’s not every woman I go through such lengths to protect.” He paused. “You’re like part of my family now. A part that I can’t see myself without.”

Sasha forced a glib smile past her astonishment. “Are you sure you’re not saying that just because of how good the sex is between us?” She meant to be dismissive, but her voice shook.

Damien’s eyes did not release hers. They relentlessly poured his love into her while he held her hands clasped in his. As if he knew how hard it would be for her to say the words they both knew waited for him under her tongue. He leaned across the table and kissed her. His mouth pressing sweetly against hers. Then his tongue, a gentle intrusion, slipping against hers, stroking, bringing a slow pleasure. Even in the midst of so many people at the restaurant, the heat between them rose like a swift tide. Damien slowly disengaged their kiss, nibbling her lips before he pulled back to his side of the table.

Sasha licked her mouth to taste the faint traces of scotch and sweetness he had left behind. “I love you, Damien Taylor.”

He smiled. “I know.”

Sasha flushed, embarrassed she’d been so transparent. And happy that, incredibly, this man loved her too. She reached for her hot apple cider with a hand that shook, took a sip, swallowed the hot and spicy drink. She jumped when Damien touched the back of her hand. She looked at him. And felt her mouth go dry.

His face had changed, had the hard look she’d come to associate with his desire. With sex. His mouth was curved and firm. Eyes a burning, bright blue on her face.

“Put your hands flat on the table,” he murmured, his voice low and almost conversational.

She knew it was a tone that had to be obeyed. Sasha put her hands on the table in front of her, bracketing her half-empty glass of hot cider. Damien took a sip of his scotch, pursed his lips as he watched her from across the table. Then he deliberately put down the crystal tumbler and stood up.

Sasha clenched her teeth to prevent herself from crying out in disappointment, to ask where he was going. But he only left his seat across from her to sit in the chair next to her. Air leaked from between her lips. Relief.

With him beside her now, she could smell the subtle spice of his cologne, the Scotch on his breath. Something darker, masculine. Intoxicating. He shifted, the jacket moving across his broad shoulders, giving a hint of the hard muscles she knew coiled beneath the expensive fabric. He reached across the table for his drink and put it directly in front of him.

Around them, the restaurant carried on as before. The wait staff moving efficiently amid the tables while the restaurant spun lazily on top of the world. The city lights winked like diamonds.

One of Damien’s hands dropped beneath the table to rest on his thigh out of sight beneath the black and white print table cloth.

“Tell me,” he murmured. “What’s the thing you like about me best?”

She startled at the question, not at all expecting something so innocuous given with the wickedly sexy look on his face. Sasha licked her lips, opened them.

“You can’t say anything about my looks or the way I make your body feel.”

Her mouth snapped shut. A moment later, she felt his hand on her thigh, over the deep rose fabric of her dress. A dress he’d complimented when she’d come out of the walk-in closet wearing it with black high heels and her hair swept up in an elegant topknot.

“Tell me, darling,” he said softly.

His fingers floated over her clothed thigh, distracting all thought from her mind, but the whip of command in his voice brought her back to what she should have been saying. She licked her lips again. Her hands twitched against the table cloth.

“I like that you make me feel special,” she said finally.

“Tell me more.”

His fingers caressed her skin through the silk, making slow circles that sent ripples of arousal between her legs. Sasha’s thighs fell open. Her nipples grew hard against the thin silk of the dress, tightening almost painfully, sinfully. As he caressed her, she told him about being in group home and never having anything for herself, how everything she’d ever called her own had been taken away, stolen, or lost when she’d been moved from group home to foster family then back to a group home again.

“Although I don’t own you,” she murmured. “I love the feeling of you belonging to me, and of me belonging to you. That no one can take us away from each other.” She said the words as his fingers tugged the silk of her dress higher until nothing lay between her flesh and his touch. Her breathing sped up.

On a whim, she hadn’t worn any underwear on their dinner date. She was glad she’d planned ahead.

Damien touched her thigh, caressed the sensitive flesh, nakedness upon nakedness. Then he slipped his hands between her thighs. She was already wet for him. He hissed, reached out to pick up his Scotch with his left hand, while the fingers of his right swirled in her wetness, delicately caressed her swollen clit. Sasha bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from making any noise.

“And what else?” he asked as he sipped his drink. “Are there any other reasons that an incredible woman like you would want a man like me?”

“Plenty!” She gasped the word as he thrust two fingers inside her, a slow and delicious stroking that made her want to sink her fingers into his shoulders, bite his throat, whisper his name. But she could do none of these things. She couldn’t even think of what else he might want to hear. She could only feel. Only react. Only revel in the bliss taking over her body. Her hands flattened against the table cloth. Widened as the fingers teased her opening, moving in and out of her in an unpredictable but spine melting rhythm, his thumb circling her clit. Hard then soft. Hard again. Tingling heat filled her belly, pooling between her thighs, making her muscles tremble. Her breath staggered, a whimper left her throat.

She wanted him to touch her breasts. Touch them just like she knew he liked. But she didn’t. He couldn’t. The other diners loitered around them. The efficient waiters that had long ago dropped off the check and didn’t try to rush them through their drinks.

Although no one looked at them in any particular way, she felt they all knew that Damien’s hand was between her thighs, that he was driving her closer and closer to a chattering climax. Her lashes fluttered low over her eyes as his fingers moved in her pussy, coaxing the pleasure from her, licking heat and fire and a lush desire into her.

Her body quivered on the edge of orgasm even though Damien’s fingers didn’t get as deep as she liked. He stroked her again. She whimpered behind her teeth, her breath coming quickly as the orgasm rolled into her pussy, into her stomach, into her entire being. She shuddered around his fingers as she came. Her teeth clamped hard enough on her lip to draw blood. She called his name, softly. Softly while her fingers flexed and curled involuntarily on top of the table.

“That was very good,” he murmured. “You deserve a reward for being so quiet.”

He drew his hand from between her legs, sucked the fingers that had been fucking her. “A nice appetizer.” Then he reached for his drink and finished it with one swallow. Drew several bills from his wallet and left them with the check.

“It’s time for us to go, darling.” His voice was low and urgent.

They only made it as far as the hotel downstairs. In a room there, he slammed the door shut, yanked down his zipper, shoved up her dress and sank his hard cock into her. Knife. Hot butter. Throbbing cock. Wet pussy.

“Oh!”

A shoe fell off her foot and thudded to the floor. She sank her fingers into his neck, locked her ankles behind him, pulling even more into her as he fucked her against the wall. Kneading her breasts through the thin material of her dress. Pinching her nipples while she cried out, her pussy dripping and squeezing him tight, already on the verge of another orgasm.

“You feel so fucking good!” he gasped into her throat.

Then they were done talking. It was simply his cock in her pussy, prickles of sensation washing over her in waves, Damien angling his cock just right to stroke her g-spot, to make her scream his name. They finished together, a symphony of satisfaction singing loud and long in the room.

Damien panted, released her. Her legs loosened around him. Her feet fell to the floor. He kissed her damp throat, bit the sensitive spot where her neck and throat met.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” he growled. “The celebration just got started.”

Chapter Thirty