The Billionaire's Ballet: A Contemporary Billionaire Friends to Lovers Romance (Friends with Benefits) (16 page)

“I go in the mornings before Quinn gets up,” I laughed. “And before you.”

“I’m recovering from cancer,” she said dryly. “What’s his excuse?”

I turned away from her barbed remark, something outside the window catching my eye. A figure darted toward us in the rain, the butler boy. He didn’t have an umbrella.

“Whatever is he doing?” Mom asked.

He knocked on the door.

Mom hurried to open it and let him inside from the rain. “Horatio, what are you doing here?”

He pulled an envelope out from under his shirt. “For Miss Juliet.”

I stood up. Horatio passed me the packet. “From Mr. Bennett.”

Mom’s eyebrows shot up. I hadn’t told her much of anything, but she knew I had been spending all my time with Quinn.

“Have a good day,” Horatio said and ducked back out into the rain.

My finger slid under the flap.

Inside were two tickets to the Blue Theater. Not ballet, of course, the venue was too small. But a jazz dance. It should be fun.

Except.

Quinn.

How would he feel if I went somewhere with Bennett?

I sank back down on a chair. Mother paced the room around me. She always got agitated when it rained. She felt the humidity in her bones, she would say, part of the sacrifice of so much dance.

I held the tickets for a long moment, feeling uncertain. It was just a friendly date. We’d had several. Quinn would see that.

But I remembered what Ian said at the party. Both the brothers were looking at me like wolves.

Except Quinn wasn’t looking at me like that now. He’d been so…friendly.

Relationships were work. Everyone said that. And Quinn and I had a lifetime’s worth of history to build on. It was a solid foundation. We understood each other. Who we were. Where we came from.

The rest would come.

But not if Bennett was in the way.

I jumped to my feet.

“You’re going to turn him down, aren’t you?” Mother asked. She stood behind the sofa, hands pressed into the back. She had a scarlet scarf on today, bright as a poppy. She looked youthful, the hard angles of her thinness filling out again.

“I don’t want to upset Quinn,” I said. “I don’t want to be part of a competition between them.”

Mom came around the sofa and sat on the arm of my chair. “You should know the truth about what happened between Bennett and Quinn.”

My insides shook. “Are you going to tell me now?”

“I might. But it’s not my story to tell. And I could see why Bennett and Quinn would keep it to themselves.”

“Then don’t,” I said. “Just…don’t. I have to see this out for myself.”

Mother smoothed my hair. I had it up in braids in hopes we’d get to ride today. Her hand passed over the crown of my head. “All right, then. Go tell Bennett you can’t go.”

“I doubt he’s here,” I said.

“He just sent those tickets,” Mom said. “He’s here. He’s waiting.”

I looked out at the rain. “Okay.”

“I have an umbrella in the closet,” she said.

But I didn’t listen. I opened the door and dashed out into the rain to the back gate that would lead me inside the walls.

I was soaked by the time I arrived at the patio door.

Adams spotted me and opened it to lead me inside.

I dripped all over the gleaming tile floor. “Sorry,” I said.

“It’s quite all right,” he said. “Mr. Quinn has not come down yet. Would you like me to fetch him?”

“Actually, I’m here to see Bennett.”

Adams’s expression didn’t even flicker. “Very good. He’s in his study.”

“I know the way.”

The butler hesitated at that, but nodded anyway. “Very well.”

I resisted the urge to shake myself like a dog to be a little less wet. I hurried through the foyer and the front room and stood before the big doors.

Today, one was propped open.

Bennett was at his desk, facing a side wall where a bank of screens scrolled with columns of numbers. He occasionally stopped the rolling figures and tapped something out.

I stepped inside the room. The rug was thick and padded, and I could feel the occasional drop of water running down my body to fall onto it.

He looked handsome and determined, leaning into his work. His jacket was draped over the sofa, so he wore only a custom-fitted dress shirt, no tie.

Maybe I shouldn’t interrupt him. I took a couple more steps forward to set the tickets on the end table by the sofa, but this movement caught his attention. He swiveled in his chair.

“Juliet. You’re here.”

I held up the envelope. “I brought these.”

“The tickets?”

“I can’t go,” I said quickly.

Bennett stood up, and I took a step back.

“Is your mother okay?” he asked.

“She’s fine.”

He came around the desk and moved behind me to close the door.

His nearness was like a drug. I instantly felt different. Anxious. Vibrating with energy. I took another step away.

“Is this about Quinn?” he asked.

“No,” I said, then, “Yes.”

“But this dance performance was just for two people who love music and dance. That’s what you said.” He sat on the sofa.

I relaxed now that he wasn’t towering over me. “I know. But I just… I don’t know.”

“Come sit here,” he said.

I didn’t mean to comply, but I did. I sat on the sofa next to him.

He took my hand. “I know you love Quinn. I know you always have.”

I couldn’t swallow over the lump in my throat. I nodded.

“He seems pretty taken with you.”

My gaze flickered down.

He squeezed my fingers. “Is all that okay?”

“Of course,” I said with a false laugh. “You know Quinn. He’s always been the charmer.”

“He has.”

We sat there another moment, inches from each other. That tension curled in me again. I discovered that I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted his hands on me.

Think of Quinn
, I told myself.

I searched for something to say. “I listened to
La Traviata
again yesterday,” I said. “I’m trying to really learn it.”

“So did I,” he said quietly.

“Really?”

“It’s my favorite now.” His eyes wouldn’t leave my face. “It will always make me think of you.”

Bennett’s throat worked as he swallowed. He was feeling something too.
 

“So, with the tickets, are you saying good-bye?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving for another two weeks,” I said.

“But you’re saying good-bye to me.” His voice was insistent.

“I will have to go no matter what,” I said. “
La Traviata
is waiting.”

“The tragic love story.”

I didn’t know what he was trying to say. “It’s just a ballet.”

“But you’re going back to New York,” he said. “Quinn or no Quinn?”

“Yes.” Why did he keep asking this?

Now his voice was a growl. “Then I have nothing to lose.”

Before I could ask what he meant, his lips crushed against mine.

This was unlike any kiss I had experienced with him or any other man, demanding, passionate, urgent. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. My body sparked in a thousand places, pressing against him, wanting to be possessed.

His mouth took mine hungrily, and his strong arms pulled me against him until I sat partially on his lap. I could feel him with every inch of my body, his hard chest, the muscular thighs. And between us, how much he desired me, hot against my leg.

I broke away, gasping, unsure. What did I really want? It had always been Quinn. But I wasn’t certain anymore. How could I feel this way with Bennett if I loved Quinn?

His hands held either side of my face, and his eyes bored into mine. “Are you saying no? I will walk away if you are really saying no.”

My gaze locked on his. The look there was frightening, exciting, and hungry. My eyes fell back to his lips and that was all he needed for an answer as he pressed into my mouth again. This time he sought more, parting my lips, his tongue finding mine.

Time ceased to exist. I fell into the kiss, my hands moving to his neck, tangling into the curls at the base of his head. I’d made Quinn kiss me again, and I’d worked hard to feel something. But it was hollow, empty, nothing like this. Nothing at all.

Bennett’s hands grasped the waistband of my jeans. His grip was possessive, primal, unrelenting. He was not going to let me go.

I didn’t want him to.

My body moved into him, my tongue seeking his. One of his hands roamed up my rib cage, exploring each curve. It rested at the bottom of my breast where the tight tank top hugged my body like a second skin.

His thumb flicked upward, catching the nipple. I sucked in a breath against his mouth. Everything burned. His mouth moved to my jaw, my neck, just below my ear. His hand shifted under my shirt. His warm skin possessed the naked breast, and I arched against him.

I was supposed to be breaking away from Bennett, but I was falling into him instead.

He pushed the shirt out of his way and his mouth descended on a puckered nipple. I cried out, clutching his hair. Tears sparked in my eyes as emotion flooded me, more than just desire. I wanted this. I had wanted this all along.

My body moved into him, rocking against the erection. He released me and pressed me down on the sofa.

I remembered seeing the gold sheets in the hotel in Dallas, and how I’d pictured us there. It must have been there all along, this need of him. He’d found a way to get to me, get me past Quinn.

Quinn.

He was somewhere in the house.

But Bennett’s mouth settled on my breast again as my shirt moved out of his way. His hand worked on the button to my jeans, and my mind was erased of anything but how I felt.

The air cooled the skin of my belly as my jeans moved down. They were only to my knees when Bennett’s fingers slid inside my panties, his thumb caressing me. I arched again and grasped his shoulders, utterly lost in sensation.

Lightning sparks of pleasure bolted through me from belly to breast. I writhed beneath his touch, then my nipple cooled as his head began to move down.

He feathered kisses along my ribs, across my navel, and down to where he’d shoved my panties aside. When his warm mouth reached its destination, my hips rose to meet him.

I was lost, completely lost, unable to think of anything but his hot seeking tongue and the ripples coursing through me. He was patient and attentive, alternately bold and gentle. I moved up and up into the need of him, my hands on the sofa, clutching the cushions.

He sucked against the throbbing nub and I went over the edge, my body pulsing against him. I cried out, my hands moving to his head, the powerful waves of orgasm wiping out anything but Bennett.

He brought me down gently with soft nipping kisses. My head fell back on the cool leather, emotionally spent, overwrought.

Bennett. Quinn. Bennett. Quinn. What was I doing?

I wanted more of him. I wanted to see him, touch him, taste every part of him.

But this wasn’t what was supposed to happen. An unexpected whimpering sound escaped my throat.

Bennett heard me and backed away. “I’m sorry, Juliet. I pushed. God.” He ran his hands through his dark hair. “Shit.” He walked to the other side of the room.

I didn’t move. I knew I was all exposed, my shirt to my neck and my jeans to my knees. But I couldn’t do anything. I had to pull myself together. Bennett was blaming himself for something that wasn’t his fault. It was me. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted. My head and my body were not agreeing.

I had to figure out my heart.

After three deep calming breaths, I managed to sit up, straighten my shirt, and stand.

As I buttoned my jeans, I said, “Bennett, it’s okay. I’m just sort of…lost right now.”

I looked around the dim room. Bennett’s monitors had gone into hibernation. The dark skies persisted, the rain falling down the panes.

But Bennett was gone.

Chapter 21

I smoothed back my hair. Walk of shame, indeed.

I pushed open the heavy door to Bennett’s study. Outside, the formal room was empty. I crossed it quickly and walked to the front foyer.

“Juliet?”

I looked up the curving staircase.

It was Quinn, still in his bathrobe.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“It’s almost noon,” I said.

He came down the stairs slowly, assessing me. “You came in the house on your own. You don’t normally do that.” He paused on the last step, looking through the formal room to the cocked door of Bennett’s study. “Did you come to see my brother?”

He took in my wild hair, the strands coming out of the braids. “What did he do to you?” He lifted his hand to touch them, but I flinched.

His hand came down. “Did you fall for him?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s not how it is.”

Quinn’s face was dark. “He’s ruthless, Juliet. Do you know what business partners call him?”

I shook my head.

“Sonbitch Bennett.”

I wanted away from this conversation. I needed to think. To sort everything out.

But Quinn moved closer. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but when I got to California, the photographers followed me there.” He jerked on the ties of his robe. “It’s like they knew. Like they were tipped off.”

He looked right into my eyes. “I was on a private plane, Jules. How would they know unless somebody told them?”

Quinn paced a few steps. “And I never understood why those photographers were here the night of the party. That’s never happened, not all these years, no matter what I was into, who I was seeing. Why this time?”

He whipped around to me. I wrapped my arms around my waist.

“Did he make a move on you that night? And while I was gone?” He came over to me and grasped both arms. “Did he?”

I didn’t answer, shocked silent.

“He did!” Quinn let me go. “That son of a bitch! This is about Pamela. I know it.”

“Who’s Pamela?” I asked.

Quinn took my arm and led me across the foyer to the side opposite Bennett’s study. We entered a small drawing room with a couple of chairs. He closed the door. “She was his fiancée. He didn’t take care of her. She wasn’t into it. It just happened.”