I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found (Contemporary Romance) (15 page)

But it was that sort of deep-seated, irrational jealousy that’s not necessarily the product of anything you might call "real." I knew nothing was going to happen between them, and I knew most of Gen’s reactions to him were probably subconscious. She wanted him. Who could blame her? But she wasn’t going to get him.

He was mine.

The thought hit me like a ton of bricks, and it left me feeling lightheaded and tingly, in a way that I was pretty sure had nothing to do with the wine I’d been drinking all night. This man, as utterly infuriating and downright heartbreaking as he could be sometimes - was…all mine. Nobody else’s. Nobody else had the right to touch him like I could, or crawl into bed with him at night, or see him the way I saw him. In spite of how well he might close himself off, and in spite of how distant he could be sometimes, I was still privy to a version of Daniel Thorne that no one else got to see.
 

No one else could watch his face transform when he lost control - his pupils blown wide open, almost swallowing the irises in blackness - his lips parted - the way he’d almost bare his teeth, the little noises - and then afterwards, the smile. The way his whole body would sag, relaxed. That little performance was a privilege that I, and I alone, could enjoy.
 

I licked my lips, letting my eyes dart from him to her and back to him again. No matter how badly she wanted to see him like that, she never would. And I could see it anytime I wanted. I could see it tonight.

Or now.

I was struck with a wicked idea.
 

"Excuse me," I said, sweetly, standing up and walking away from the table, briskly. I went down the little hallway that obviously led to the bathrooms, cursing inwardly when I saw that there were no single rooms with locking doors, only a multi-person affair that anyone could walk in or out of, at any time.

This was a fancy restaurant. I had a feeling they wouldn’t take kindly to this sort of thing.

It was in that moment that I almost lost my nerve. But my body was already thrumming and I knew there was no turning back at this point. I stood in the hallway for a second, considering. Despite my eagerness, I’d never actually done this before. I’d never really thought about it in enough detail to figure out the logistics. A man in the women’s bathroom would certainly be more scandalous than a woman in the mens’ bathroom - well, that decided it.

I pushed the door to the mens’ bathroom open, slowly. Peering inside, I quickly scanned the empty-seeming room to make sure we we really would be alone.

For now, at least.

Oh, God - why did that thought send a not-unpleasant shudder through me?
 

I stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind me. It was pristine - I expected nothing less from a place like this. But still, it was nice to know. I hurried into one of the stalls, shut and locked the door, and briefly considered crouching on the toilet so nobody would notice the obvious women’s feet sticking up under the stall. But couldn’t quite bring myself to act like a fugitive.

I pulled my phone out of my purse and began hastily composing a text message.

I stood in silence for a while, the sound of my own breaths echoing harshly in the room. I took a moment to smooth my hair and blot a little more lipstick on. As if he’d notice. As if he’d care, at a time like this.

The door swung open.

My heart stopped for a split second, and then started beating again like it was trying to escape from my ribcage. I stood stock-still, praying that it was Daniel - praying that if it wasn’t, he’d have the good grace to leave well enough alone.

The footsteps came closer and closer, finally stopping directly in front of the door.

"Maddy," he said, softly.

I threw the lock back and pulled the door open, and he stepped in, quickly, re-locking it behind him without missing a beat.

He was on me, kissing me wildly, before I even knew what had happened. I was of course hoping he’d react well to my proposition, but this was even better than what I’d imagined. I could feel him pressing against my leg, stiff and hot already.
 

"You…" he whispered, his hands all over me, pressing me up against the wall. He was hurriedly untucking my blouse from my skirt, his fingers fumbling with the delicate little buttons. I didn’t know what he planned to do, exactly - I wasn’t quite so lost in a fit of passion that I wouldn’t object to my favorite blouse being slung over a bathroom stall door. But apparently, he just wanted to open it enough to see me and touch me a little better. He stopped halfway down, reaching up and roughly pushing my bra up over my breasts.

"I…what?" I breathed, tilting my head back so he could press his lips against my neck. When he nipped me with his teeth, I squealed, but it wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark. Not this time. By the time we got back to the table, no matter what excuse he’d used to slip away, it would be abundantly clear what we’d been doing - hickey or no hickey. There was no use rubbing it in.

Besides, I didn’t particularly want to be banned from this restaurant for life.
 

"We won’t get in trouble," he rumbled, his mouth against my collarbone, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. "I could buy and sell this place."

I normally hated it when he said things like that, but for some reason, now, in this moment, it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life. Even so, I felt I had to at least put on a show of protest.

"Shut up," I said, planting my hands on his chest and shoving back at him. He didn’t budge an inch; his face registered surprise for a moment, and then he smiled, wickedly.

"Really?" His hand slid behind my head, grasping a handful of hair. I hissed. "Is that really what you want? For me to shut up?"

I didn’t answer. "What if somebody walks in?"

His mouth twitched. "Ms. Wainwright, this was your idea. Surely you’re not getting cold feet
now
."

"I’m not," I insisted. "I just think we should have…a plan."

"Here’s the plan," he said. Then, he closed his hand around the very top of my throat, where it met my chin - not hard, not nearly enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough to hold me in place. And then he kissed me.

I made a soft noise against his mouth, but he swallowed most of it. I wondered how thin these walls were. The restaurant wasn’t particularly quiet, but it wasn’t necessarily loud enough to drown out
everything
.

Then again, with every passing moment, I was caring less and less.

He was shoving his knee between my thighs, the way he knew I liked - forcing my stance wider and wider. In my high heels, I had too little traction to try and fight it. My feet slid apart, exactly as far as he wanted.
 

I moaned into him, gripping his arms for balance. His muscles flexed under my hands as he grabbed me hard around the waist, breaking off our kiss long enough to nuzzle at my face, then slide over and gently nibble at my ear. I shivered and gripped him harder, feeling like I might actually lose my balance.

The skin around my mouth was tingling from his stubble rubbing against it. I exhaled harshly. He hesitated for a moment, pulling back and looking at me with concern.

"I’m fine," I reassured him, smiling a little. "I swear. I’m breathing and everything."

He grinned, and his hands slowly slid up under the hem of my skirt. The pads of his fingers left a burning trail on my bare thighs; I was suddenly very, very grateful that I hadn’t worn pantyhose. I hated them anyway, though I knew I was "supposed" to wear them with certain outfits - and Daniel certainly never complained.
 

And at that exact moment, I heard the door swing open.

We both froze.
 

His fingers were inches from the hems of my panties. His eyes followed the sound of the footsteps, all the way across the marble tile, to the urinals. I knew there was a very small chance that our unexpected visitor would even turn to see to the two pairs of feet under the stall. And even if he did, he might choose to ignore it. But in defiance of all logic, my heart was beating so fast I thought it might explode. More than anything, I wanted to take a deep breath, but I didn’t want to risk making a sound.

The water ran, and a few impossibly long moments later, I heard the door swing open again.

We were alone.

Daniel’s eyes met mine. The corner of his mouth was twitching, and for some reason I felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up inside me. I let it out - quietly as I could, but it was infectious, and suddenly we were both laughing - gasping, leaning against each other, trying to stay as quiet as we could. Daniel buried his face in my shoulder, shaking. When we finally recovered, he lifted his head and looked at me again; his eyes were shining, and suddenly this wasn’t just about my jealousy or the risk or anything but my need for
him
. The intensity of it hit me all at once, and I was breathless. I couldn’t tell what was throwing me more off-balance - the deep thrum of desire in my body, or the familiar twinge in my heart. I wanted him. Every part of him, always, and I couldn’t stand the thought of it not lasting forever. Just now, this moment, wasn’t enough. No one moment would ever be enough. I had to know, really
know
, that I would always have this.
 

That I would always have him.

This realization all happened in one fraction of a second, but it must have shown on my face, because I saw his brows knit just a little before he leaned in and kissed me again. As my heart thumped faster and faster, I tried to do as he’d always told me. I tried to breathe, taking in the smell of his cologne, the taste of his mouth. The way his body felt under my hands, the hard angles, the radiating heat. In a moment, he’d hoisted me up, lifting me effortlessly off my feet so I could wrap my legs around his waist. I’d almost forgotten how strong he was.
 

He tugged at my panties, pushing them aside and guiding himself into me in one, remarkably smooth motion. Leave it to Daniel Thorne to make bathroom sex elegant. Even this silly little thought made my heart throb painfully. God, I was in love with this ridiculous man.

I grabbed at the back of his neck as he held me up against the wall with his hands and body. Within moments, I was so overwhelmed with him that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if someone else walked into the bathroom. He had a way of doing that to me. I was acutely aware of every point of contact - his fingers digging into my thighs, my hips, his hands always moving and sliding to get a better grip - his mouth on my neck, my ears - and of course, the place where we were joined. The stall was shaking under the force of his thrusts, and I could feel already that my spine was going to be sore afterwards. But I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

When my climax rattled through me, I bit my lip to keep quiet, but I couldn’t quite stifle the low whimper as I shuddered and pulsed. My head snapped back, and would surely have hit the wall were his hand not there to stop it. I felt his fingers flex against my scalp as he stilled inside me.

A few long, shaky breaths later, he was slowly letting me back down on my feet. I kept leaning against the wall to steady myself, and he straightened himself up quickly, looking not at all like a man who’d just had a sordid public sexual encounter. I was sure I still looked flushed and guilty and reeked of his cologne, and probably would for the rest of the night.

Oh, well. Wasn’t that kind of the point?

"You go first," I said, and he nodded, flicking the lock back and making a hasty retreat. I stayed there for a few minutes longer, cleaning up as best I could and catching my breath.
 

As I walked unsteadily back to the table, I could feel Gen’s eyes following me. My instinct was to look away, but instead I forced myself to meet her gaze. My mouth curved up into a sly smile, without me even trying.
 

I sat down gracefully. Briefly, I wondered if they’d been sitting her like this, silent and awkward, for the entire time since Daniel got back. Gen kept sort of opening her mouth, looking like she was about to say something, and then deciding against it at the last moment.

Our food finally arrived, and we all busied ourselves with eating for a while. Some polite, subdued comments on the quality of the meal ricocheted around the table, but other than that, we were all content to focus on the business at hand.

In upscale restaurants, Daniel always ate like he’d been trained by Emily Post. It wasn’t his usual style, but it was pretty entertaining to watch. Sometimes I’d amuse myself by trying to mimic him, holding my fork upside down and dabbing my mouth with my cloth napkin (kept in my lap, of course) between each sip of wine. Most of the time, though, I just ate like a normal person, and no one seemed to mind. At this particular moment, considering what had just transpired in the bathroom, it seemed ridiculous to try and be ladylike. So I continued using my fork as a shovel, occasionally glancing at Gen and trying to read her studiously blank expression. She had switched back into Professional Journalist Mode, which, while admittedly an unintended side effect, was perfectly fine with me.

"So," I heard myself say, finally. "Elephant in the room."

Gen’s eyes widened. I heard Daniel set his fork down and look at me.

"The article," I said. "You know. The Woman Behind the Man. You’re dying to ask me if I’ve seen it."

"Oh." Some of the color came back into Gen’s cheeks. "Well, I wasn’t going to mention it."

"What is this, now?" Daniel was looking from one to the other of us; for once, he was the one left out of the conversation.

"Oh, you didn’t see it?" Gen was surprised. "Well, that’s probably for the best. It was a…" she looked at me, as if anything she could say would be worse than the actual article.

"It was nothing," I said. "Just a stupid feature about me. All speculation and bullshit. But it’s fine. I’m used to it know. I laughed about it, actually."

Gen was looking at me searchingly. "That’s good," she said, finally. "I can’t imagine."

"Yeah," I said. I could feel Daniel’s eyes burning a hole in me, but I didn’t look at him. "Well, with any luck, you’ll never have to."