ROMANCE: Bear Naked Passion (Billionaire Bear Trio Book 2) (50 page)

Chapter 4

Tuesday couldn’t come fast enough for Bridget. It wasn’t that she was dying to see Robert, but by the time that she’d finally left work on Tuesday to go home and get ready for their date at eight, she was more than ready to cut straight to dinner and skip whatever her so-called “billionaire boyfriend” had planned for those final three hours leading up to it. 

              Because really, he’d done enough already.

              It had all started on Monday. She’d gone into work, parking her truck around back to walk into work ten minutes early. It hadn’t been a particularly unusual start to her workweek, even with the odd traffic and cold cup of coffee that she’d waited twenty minutes in line for, but her date with Robert had seemed to infect her mood and make it all seem different; fresh.

              Especially when she’d walked into the same old office and found six overflowing bouquets of red roses crowded on her cubicle desk. 

              Thinking fast before Pamela arrived, Bridget had been able to pass them off to her favorite coworkers and start on her work. Only, Robert’s gifts hadn’t stopped at the roses. By noon, she’d gotten a dozen different deliveries of chocolates, jewelry, and handbags, each gift more extravagant than the next as she tried as quietly as possible to return them all to sender.

              Honestly, it was almost more than one introvert could take.

              Locking her apartment door behind her, Bridget left her phone in her purse and marched straight into the bathroom. She shut the door and turned the bath taps on high, plugging up the drain as hot water gushed into the tub. Stepping out of her clothes, Bridget tossed her underwear to the floor and stepped into the rising water, sighing in relief as the heat naturally soothed her tensed limbs.

              It was the most relaxed that she’d been in weeks.

              Until the knock at the door ruined it.

              “Uh,” she said to herself, jerking up from her reclined position as the knocks sounded again. “Just a minute!” she called, pushing herself up. Water sloshed over the sides as she kicked her feet out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her body. Walking carefully on slick feet to the door, she kept the chained lock on as she cracked it open.

              Robert was grinning sheepishly on the other side in a black suit, a white garment bag draped over his arm.

              “Bridget,” he beamed, but his smile quickly faltered as he noticed the water dripping down her nose.

              “What happened to eight o’clock?” Bridget blurted out before she could stop herself.

              “I just—sorry, were you in the shower?” he asked, glancing at the puddle gathering just inside her door.

              “Bath, actually,” she said dryly. “Why don’t you come back—”

              “Wait!” he stopped her from closing the door with his foot. “Bridget, can I come in?” When she just stared at him, he tried a small smile. “Please?”

              She was going to regret this. “Fine,” she said, shooing him back so that she could undo the lock and open the door properly.

              Bridget made him wait in the sitting area while she went back into the bathroom to dry off and dress. She stared longingly at the tub before she forced herself to pull the plug, sighing as the water that she’d filled with bath salts and her favorite rose oil disappeared down the drain.

              With a rough scrub of her towel, she dried herself off and slipped back into the clothes she’d been wearing earlier, snatching them up off the floor with a groan. This was definitely not how she’d imagined her night going.

              A part of her wondered why she’d let Robert in, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming knowledge that she needed that billionaire boyfriend article, which meant that she needed him.

              “Okay, Robert,” she sighed, stepping back out into the living room. “What did—”

              She paused. Robert was on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back as he bent to look at her cluster of books stacked under an end table. She thought he’d be on the couch, but a blue dress was draped over the cushions, resting on the white garment bag that he’d brought. 

              “Oh,” he said, straightening with a smile. “That was quick.”

              Bridget made a mental note to compare herself to Robert’s usual date in the article: pampered, spoiled, and forever in the powder room. Maybe she could dress it up like Robert preferred her cheap habits to theirs, and give some women hope.

              “I remembered the dress that you wore to my brother’s party,” he said, stepping closer. “I saw this one in a window near my workplace, and the cut reminded me of you.”

              Bridget couldn’t help feeling a little insulted as he led her over to it. The dress was beautiful, there was no denying that, but it’d obviously been bought at a plus size store, meaning that he’d seen it on a plus size mannequin.

              “It would mean a lot to me if you’d wear it tonight,” he said gently, reaching to pick it up. The fabric shimmered as he moved it, and Bridget couldn’t help but compare it to the elusive color of a full moon. As he held it out to her, she couldn’t help but accept it, eyeing it closely as she considered how she should describe it in the article. She supposed that a lot of women dreamed of a handsome man bringing them a ball gown to go dancing in, and that the dress in her arms would only beef up the article.

              Speaking of dancing, he’d never told her where he had planned on taking her for their date. She figured, with a dress like that, Robert would be taking her somewhere that she’d never been. After all, the last thing she needed was for him to act like a cheesy prince charming and take her out for pizza. 

“Take me somewhere special.” Bridget said it with a hard swallow, afraid to overstep at any moment.
Take me out so I can write my article and get this over with.

              “Of course,” Robert nodded eagerly in agreement. “Where shall we go?”

              Bridget had no idea. “Your favorite,” she said quickly. “To your favorite restaurant.”

              Robert smirked. “With my favorite gal,” he said, stooping to kiss her hand, his lips soft on her skin. “I know just the place.”

              Bridget had always heard of Saints and Stones – hell, everyone in California had. It was a privately owned steakhouse that’d been ranked number one in the area for the past ten years running, and reservations were next to impossible to get because of it.

              But then, her date wasn’t ‘everyone.’

              “Table for two, Mac,” Robert smiled when he walked in, and a host wearing a ‘Michael’ nametag waved at him.

              “Certainly, sir,” the man balanced two menus in his hand like a pizza tray. “Is the usual table alright?”

              “Perfectly,” Robert winked.

              As they followed the host to their seats through a maze of polished tables and brick walls draped with new age tapestries, Bridget couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. People were staring, and as they rounded another booth and Robert squeezed the hand that he’d insisted she keep on his arm, he whispered, “You look stunning.”

              Bridget smiled back at him weakly. While she was positive that her clothes had nothing to do with the looks that they’d been getting since they’d walked in, she had to admit that the dress was nothing if not flattering. The soft blue fabric that she’d been worried would be near invisible actually kept her pale skin looking balanced instead of sickly white, and somehow also seemed to make her frosty blue eyes pop against her head of red hair.

If nothing else went right, Robert had, at the very least, chosen the dream dress.

              “Here we are,” the host said kindly, sweeping his hand to indicate a back booth. Robert, ever the gentleman, moved for Bridget to take a seat first. As he slipped in behind her and ordered a bottle of red wine, Bridget pulled at the dress.

              “You look perfect,” Robert said, stopping her hand by placing one of his on top of it. Bridget froze, all too aware of the hot hand touching hers, and she purposefully kept her eyes down because of it. “Sorry,” he said, moving his hand to his lap. She almost reached for it, internally screaming at herself when she realized what she was doing. “I know I might be coming off as a bit abrasive, but,” Robert shook his head at his own thoughts. “I’ve been dying to see you since I left you in my bed that morning.”

              “Robert,” Bridget frowned, speaking slowly through her own muddled mind. “What exactly do you remember about that night?”

              “Like I said, not much,” he chuckled. “But I do remember waking up from the best sleep that I’d had in weeks to find a beautiful girl in my bed, and an annoyed butler who said that you were the only reason that I wasn’t found dead in a ditch that morning.”

              Bridget blushed. “A-anyone would’ve—”

              “No,” he said firmly, his tone suddenly very serious. “Not in my world, they wouldn’t have.”

              “Robert—”

              “The Cabernet Sauvignon,” their host suddenly interrupted them, his smile wide as he showed off the vintage to Robert.

              “Thank you,” Robert grinned. He nodded for the host to pour it, and dismissed him with a wave. “Leave the bottle,” he said, and Michael placed it between them. Bridget itched to snap a photo of it with her phone for the article, but she resisted the temptation and kept her hands at her sides, glancing at Robert as he picked up his wine glass.

              “Mhm,” he breathed, inhaling the smell as he swirled his cup. After a moment he took a sip, and looked at Bridget. “Please, try it.”

              Bridget had never been a big fan of wine, but she picked up her glass all the same and tipped it back. As the bitter taste touched her tongue, Robert’s warm hand suddenly ghosted over her thigh and squeezed.

              Bridget just barely avoided choking and set her glass hastily back down on the tabletop. His fingers were warm as they gently dug into her flesh, and she swallowed as she imagined him gripping her underneath the dress. The fabric bunched as he started moving his hand further up toward her crotch, and she quickly threaded her hand through his to stop him.

              “Come home with me tonight,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss her cheek while he whispered in her ear. “I need another dose of what you gave me.”

              “What I gave you?” she repeated breathlessly, her mind slow as her body tingled in a warm haze.

              “I haven’t slept since that night,” he admitted, his breath hot against her face. “I see you every time I close my eyes,” he kissed her neck, his hand suddenly slipping beneath her dress.

              A clink of a stranger’s silverware jerked her out from under his spell, and Bridget did the only thing she could think of.

              She head-butted him.

Chapter 5

“I’m so sorry.”

              Robert just waved her off, the red mark on his forehead obvious against his black bangs. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said. “I was being too forward.”

              If Bridget wasn’t so embarrassed, she would’ve snorted at the proper words that he used to describe his attempts to jump her bones.

              And, if she hadn’t been so turned on by it, then she probably would’ve been able to enjoy the lamb that Robert had ordered for her with a clear head. 

              “If you want to go back to your apartment, after this—”

              “As opposed to what?” Bridget asked, looking up from her plate at him. She didn’t say it unkindly, and she could tell that her wide eyes and honest tone had surprised Robert.

              “Well,” he said, clearing his throat as he glanced away with a slight redness creeping up his neck. “There’s a dessert parlor around here that’s famous for their champagne truffles.”

              That sounded like a nice ending for her article. “Sounds charming,” Bridget smiled.

              Four rounds of truffles and a vanilla bean waffle cone later, and Bridget really couldn’t identify just when she’d agreed to go home with Robert.

              “Bridget,” he gasped, holding her close as he ground up against her while she straddled his lap. Her hands were over his head, hanging on to the back of the car seat as she moved over the bulge in his pants. Every time she moved down, her stomach curled with warm knots that just kept winding tighter and tighter.

              “R-Rob,” she breathed, hissing as he unwound an arm from around her back and squeezed her breast through the dress, his teeth nipping her chin desperately as he moved.

              Bridget had no idea what she was doing, but it wasn’t like she was trying to spend any time figuring it out, either. All she knew was that Robert wanted her –
really
wanted her – and it felt so fucking
good
to be wanted.

              “Bridget,” Rob pulled away, his hand moving from her chest to her hip. “The car’s stopped – we’re home.”

              Bridget thought about correcting him, about saying that no,
he
was home, but one look at the towering mansion gleaming against the night sky, and she decided that she could definitely pretend it was hers too, for a night.

              They ran up the stairs like excited teenagers, hushing each other as their laughter echoed down the halls. Bridget had never done this before, had never had her heart beating in her ears as she got a thrill just from smiling at a man that she was about to jump into bed with. For her, sex had always been complicated, or just downright awkward. It had never been the spontaneous act that Robert was turning it into.

              His bedroom hadn’t changed, not that she’d expected it to, and she couldn’t help but arch her back into the silk sheets as he laid her down on it.

              “You’re beautiful,” he professed, his lips kissing all the way up her legs until he had to push the dress up around her hips. His mutters of “gorgeous” and “perfect” were the only things that kept Bridget from pulling the fabric right back down and covering up. His voice was too desperate to be a hiss of lies, and she was just comfortable enough to believe him.

              His fingers brushed against her folds as he pulled her underwear aside, the air suddenly cold on her bare skin. It didn’t help that Robert spread her legs, dispelling any sense of cover.

              “R-Robert,” she muttered, putting a hand on the wrist that she could reach. “Don’t stare,” she said, biting her lip.

              Robert merely smirked and leaned forward, kissing her fiercely as he rendered her speechless.

              Flinging her arms over his neck, she pulled him closer, moaning into his mouth as she felt his warmth prod against her entrance. He only growled in response.

She gasped as he fell inside of her, seating himself down to the hilt in a single thrust.

              “Ah!” Bridget yelped, jerking her head away to breathe through the sudden heat squeezing in her gut. Robert had hit something inside of her, and with the way that his dick was still pulsing against it, she could only think to form one word as it quickly drove her insane. “Move,” she breathed. “
Move.
”

              Robert was only too happy to comply, and he pulled out only to slam back in with a smile, his thrusts long and harsh. Bridget hadn’t known that men could move like that.

              “Robert, I—!” Bridget gasped next to his ear. Her body was tensing, the heat pooling in her stomach and only growing tighter with every delicious stab he aimed just perfectly against that thing inside of her. “Robert!”

              She came with a shout, her eyes squeezing closed as she dropped her head into his shoulder. Robert just kept pounding into her, his own movements hurried compared to her own sudden stillness while her body unwound. The only thing still clenched was her core, tight and squeezing against Robert’s hard cock. 

              It only took a few more thrusts before Robert’s movements went from swift to stuttering, his teeth stinging her neck as he bit her and came, his nostrils flaring as he huffed.

              When he finally released her, he helped her fall back onto the bed, his hands warm as they maneuvered her against his chest. Tracing a finger over her shoulder, he huffed to himself.

              “Where the fuck have you been?” he asked softly. “I would’ve found you years ago, if I’d known.”

              Bridget heard his whispered ramblings, but was too far gone to answer.

“You’re choosing a dick over your dream job.”

Bridget had known that going into Cupid’s Call with her resignation in hand wasn’t going to be met with fond farewells, especially since Pamela seemed to think that it meant Bridget was robbing her of her dream article.

“No,” Bridget swallowed. “I’m choosing a man who needs me more than the world needs another sleazy Cupid’s Call article.”

“You can’t do this,” Pamela seethed, standing up. Her pantsuit was wrinkling like the lines creasing her forehead, and Bridget had to consciously force herself to stand her ground.

“It’s not like I’m turning around and selling the article to another magazine—”

“Oh? Aren’t you?” Pamela hissed.

Bridget paused, glaring back at the woman. “The Arkell article doesn’t exist,” she said calmly. “I never wrote it, and I don’t plan to. Robert’s personal life—”

“I wonder how
Robert
would feel if he knew about your little scheme,” Pamela interrupted her. She had a gleam in her eye as she spoke, as if she’d just found the upper hand that she was looking for. “About your little article. Think he’d still want to date you?”

“Seeing as I already told him about it and we’re on for dinner at five?” Bridget raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see why not.”

Pamela’s confident eyes snapped back to narrowed slits of cold fury. “You little—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Bridget said, standing as she felt her cellphone buzz in her pocket. “I’ve got a limo waiting on me downstairs.” Turning around with a flourish, Bridget raised a hand in farewell.

“Hey, Robert,” she answered her cellphone as she pressed the button for the elevator. “Yep, headed down to you now.”

THE END

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