The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) (3 page)

Chapter Six

Carter

She
barges in here like she owns the place, mouth working silently as she scans
everything with wide, keen eyes the color of topaz.

The
first thing I notice is that she is spell-bindingly, ridiculously gorgeous.
Cammy neglected to mention that part, though my little sister has never been
one to appreciate flamboyant beauty. Cammy is quiet and shy, pretty in a
subdued sort of way. This woman is none of that. She is all splashed out
glamor. I have never seen anyone look so flat-out sexy in such a simple dress.

The
second thing I notice is that this doesn't matter. I want her gone, out of my
space. I promised Cammy I would be good. No, not good. I promised her I'd be
okay.

I
offered to host out of guilt, and Cammy knows it. She was still trying to
change my mind, even as she called me after meeting Sanniyah Jones two days
ago. But she wants to have the wedding here, I can tell. And my baby sister
deserves to have the wedding she wants.

"If
you like her, then that's all that matters, Cammy," I told her over the
phone, keeping my voice nice and light and even.

"I
like her." My sister's voice was crackly, like she was farther away than
she really was. Like there
was
more than just a couple
miles of water between us. "She...she didn't ask questions about it,
Carter." I remembered pressing my lips together, fighting the urge to fill
in Cammy's words for her. She is over her stutter, but it still crept back
sometimes, and hesitation is a way she tries to mask it. "She didn't ask
questions about...you."

I could
feel myself nodding, even as I was gripping my phone more tightly than I meant
to. "Well then that's settled," I said tightly, hoping I sounded more
sure than I felt.

"Carter?"

Shit,
she wasn't fooled. "Yeah Cam."

Her
voice was so soft I could barely hear it over the crackle on the line.
"You don't have to do this."

I had
sat bolt upright in the deck chair, that evening, as if Cammy could see me
somehow. "You're right, I don't have to. I want to Cam. My gift to
you." I swallowed. "Start the happy new chapter of your life off
right."

"I
know how you feel about letting people in, Carter."

I tried
to laugh it off. "I'm not letting them in, I'm just feeding them.
Besides," I clarified, "they aren't just anyone. They're your people.
I trust you Cam."

"I
hope you do for real, big brother. You don't have to make up for what happened.
I've told you this a million times, it's not your fault."

I stood
up from the deck chair then, and stalked into the house. "Yes, you've told
me," I repeated.

Cammy
waited for me to say something further. When I didn't add anything, she sighed
a sigh that came through the line as clear as if she was standing right here,
watching me pace. "Be kind to yourself, Carter," she said, sadly.
"Mom and Dad would want you to."

"Well,
since they aren't here to tell me that themselves..." I swear I tried to
catch myself before I said anything else, but it was too late. Cammy's voice
caught in a little sob. "Shit, Cam, no, don't cry, okay? Look, I'm okay.
I'm just going to go for a swim, now. I'll meet with your chosen wedding
planner Friday and everything will go smoothly." I looked down at my hand
and forced myself to unclench it. "You're getting married, Cam," I said,
as gently as I could. "Be happy."

"You
too," she swallowed. "I love you. Bye Carter."

"Bye
Cammy." I lingered until the line went dead. Then I turned and hurled the
phone into the couch. It bounced slightly, not nearly the effect I wanted. I
whirled and grabbed a decorative piece of crap the decorator had stuck on the
shelf and hurled that to the floor. It shattered into a million pieces and I
felt marginally better.

I can
still see one of those pieces glinting in the corner as I sit here now. It
winks at me like an accusation.
"There
is a gorgeous woman in your house...aren't you going to say hello?"

Fuck. I
turn around and start to rise, just as she makes a beeline for my deck. I make
to follow her, and then stop short.

The
sight of her standing there, leaning against the railing, her ripe, round ass
swaying slightly as she stares off into the horizon is enough to drain all of
the blood from my brain. Her elegant profile is highlighted in the setting sun,
and I am suddenly thinking about goddesses and deities and idols from ancient
times. Her forehead curves over elegant brows that swoop above her eyes like
gullwings. Her cheekbones strain against her caramel skin, showing off her
perfect bone structure.

But her
lips.

Her
lips are going to be the ruin of me, I can see that already. I want to kiss
them. No, I want to devour them, claim them. I am so hungry for them right now,
that I swear I cannot remember what my life was like before I saw them. For
one, strange moment, I move out of my shattered head and am the Carter Easton
of old. The impulsive risk-taker who always got what he set out for.

I’m
ready to be me again…

I’m
ready to meet Sanniyah Jones.

Chapter Seven

Sanniyah

"Oh!"
I cry, my jaw dropping open in fright. I snap it shut quickly, but as I see
him, it slowly falls open again as he approaches. He lopes casually across the
deck, his strides soft and easy with an innate, athletic grace.

Carter
Easton smiles at me and extends his hand. "You must be Ms. Jones," he
says. The way he says my name, the way he tastes it on his tongue as it passes
his teeth, sends a shiver down my spine that is wholly out of place in the warm
sun.

"Mr.
Easton," I smile, "Thank you so much for welcoming me to your lovely
home." Professional poise takes hold of me, guiding me past my goosebumps
and rapidly beating heart.

I've
seen his picture, read the articles, "researched" him quite
thoroughly. But none of that could prepare me for the sight of him up close. In
all of the pages and pages of
internet
hits, there was
no mention of the magnetism, the easy, quiet confidence that radiated off of
him in waves. That was something I had to blushingly experience for myself, and
the effect was quite disconcerting.

He's
dressed in a white linen shirt, casually untucked, sleeves rolled to bare his
toned, tanned forearms. The whiteness of the shirt is blinding, and the
contrast with his skin makes his tan seem burnished and golden. There are
streaks of sun in his dark blond hair and his eyes are the exact same shade of
blue as the sea that surrounds us. I could drown in them just as easily.

Carefully,
I wrap my fingers around the railing of the deck. I need something to hold on
to. Otherwise I might float away. I've never had such a strong reaction to a
white man, to
any
man, before.
 

He's
wearing khakis, and my eyes wander down to see that he is barefoot. It's
strangely personal, seeing him this way.

Like he
is naked.

The
thought makes my cheeks flame and I turn quickly to look out over the water. I
wrack my brain for something safe to say, something that won't betray the
lascivious direction my thoughts are turning.
"Are you aware of how sexy you are? You look really good in those
clothes, how about out of them? Can I see your bedroom...ceiling?"

"Can
you see the mainland from here?" I ask instead.

Carter
moves closer to me, putting his hand lightly on my shoulder so that I turn as
he points. "That's Kittatiny Hill, right there," he says, indicating
the small swell on the horizon. "That's all you can see on a day like
today. Suits me just fine, honestly."

"Does
it?" I've learned that when I feel off balance, it's best to redirect the
conversation to the other person. It buys me time, plus people like talking
about themselves.

"It
doesn't suit you?" He turns and looks at me with those blue, blue eyes and
I am forced to look away.
 
Carter is
not playing by the rules. He's not supposed to be asking questions in return.
 

"I
wouldn't know either way," I laugh. "This is the first time I've ever
been on a private island."

"Well
then," he says lightly, "let me show you around."

He puts
his hand at my elbow, a little guiding hand, nothing more, but his touch makes
me jump like he grazed me with a live wire. I dart forward, out of his reach
and summon my professional cool. "I will need to see the layout of the
space," I tell him as I cross the deck.
 
"How many guests can you
accommodate? Are you expecting them to provide their own transport? How far is it
to come via boat? Perhaps we could arrange a ferry the day of, do you have a
port anywhere?"

I take
a breath, waiting for him to respond. It isn't until a moment goes by without
an answer by that I realize he is no longer at my side.

I turn.

Carter
is still back at the railing. He is looking out over the water, a far away look
in his eyes. There is peace there, but also an incredible sadness. The kind of
sadness that makes me
take
an inadvertent step
forward. Like I can comfort him somehow.

He turns
a little, affording me a glimpse of his strong profile. It's a profile I
recognize from my "research," but he even more gorgeous in person,
model perfect with a kind of coolness about him that almost seems studied. Like
he takes lessons on how to be laid back.

The
sadness leaves his eyes, making me wonder if I imagined it. "Slow
down," he says. There is still that ease in his voice, but authority too.
Like he is used to giving orders. "Take it easy, okay?"

I
stammer for a moment. He's not taking this seriously at all.

"Check
it out," he grins. "Dolphins. See that fin?"

He's
not answering me and he doesn't seem in the mood to talk business. Reluctantly,
I step back to him. He takes my elbow again, steering me so that I am looking
out over the glinting water.

A
dorsal fin breaks the surface. Then another. Then another. I feel my face
stretching into a grin in spite of myself. "Wow," I breathe.

Carter
looks at me, his wide grin showing perfect white teeth. But the delight on his
face isn't studied at all. "They swing by here around this time of year. I
was afraid I was going to miss them."

I look
back out. The fins are receding, disappearing around the curve of the island.
When they finally slip completely from view, I dare sneak a look back at Carter.
 

"I
need to show you something," he says.

"Okay,"
I say, clenching my teeth a little.

"Give
me your hand, these stairs can be a little slippery," he says.

When
his hand slips into mine, all the plans, all the questions I have for him leave
my brain in a rush. I have no other thoughts but how his skin feels; warm and
dry, a slight, unexpected
callous
, his fingers strong
and supple in mine as he leads me down the steps to the beach.

I stop
short. I am in heels, but Carter seems to have thought of that already.
"Lift your foot," he says in that easy, authoritative voice.

Chapter Eight

Carter

She's even better up close.

Sanniyah
is studying her surroundings like she has everything already figured out, her
chin lifted to show off the graceful swoop of her neck. In the waning light of
sunset, I first assumed her perfect skin was a smooth shade of caramel, but as
I move closer, I can see the different colors under the surface; the ebonies,
the siennas, the dark chocolates. I am staring at her, I can feel it. I have to
look away.

She
doesn't know how hard this is for me. She can't possibly know that the very act
of allowing someone I don't know into my sanctuary is tearing me apart
internally. It's not her fault that she is gorgeous and unnerving and I am
already so on edge I feel like I might snap at any moment. So I keep
conversation to a minimum, though it is clear she is unhappy with how I am
avoiding talking about the wedding.
 
She doesn't know that the just allowing her near me is the biggest step.

But she
seems unnerved too. When I steel my resolve and make to touch her, she goes
stiff and jumpy. I wonder if she can sense the damage inside of me. I wonder if
she knows I am not right inside.

This
bothers me.

"Come
down here," I tell her. I am being too abrupt, ordering her around. I
expect her to tell me to shove off, but instead she follows me, to my immense
surprise. "I want to show you something."

She
hesitates at the bottom step, wavering. "Oh, I got that," I say,
reaching out to help her unbuckle her sexy, spindly heels. It's a problem I can
easily solve, unlike my inability to handle a normal conversation.

She
lifts her foot. The instant my hand circles her ankle, I feel it again. That
bolt of possessiveness.
That want
. A fiery need I
haven't felt in...forever perhaps?

 
I used to feel things. Hunger, drive.
Ideas would come to me like bolts out of the blue. Inspiration would take hold
of me and shake me like I am shaking right now. I am shaking so hard I can
barely get her buckle undone.

My hand
looks like it belongs there, wrapped possessively around her. Claiming her as
my own. I know she is what I need. I know that she will make me whole again. I
don't question it, just like I never questioned any of the ideas that led me to
my incredible fortune. I just acted.

Her
bare feet wiggle in the sand, and I feel another jolt. A different kind of
jolt.

This
one goes straight a very different part of my anatomy...

She's
standing on the half-buried last step, which means our eyes are level with each
other. "I'm glad you're here, Sanniyah," I say. And I mean it.

She
looks startled for a minute. I can see a million different expressions flash
across her face until she finally settles on one.

Delight.

Her
eyes open wide; shocked and pleased.
 
Her beautiful, kissably plump lips curve into a megawatt smile. Her face
is so utterly transformed in that moment that I make a solemn promise to myself
right now.

I want
to delight her. Again and again. I will spend the rest of my life trying to
make her smile the way she is right now.

"I'm
pretty glad too," she laughs. Her voice is softer. "It's gorgeous
here."

I look
down at the shoreline. The waves are gentle, sighing into the sand. It's low
tide. "Sometimes shells wash up," I tell her. "Over here."

They
wash up everywhere, but I am using this as an excuse to take her hand. It slips
into mine like it belongs there. "Okay," she says, her voice barely
above a whisper. I'm not sure if she's saying it to me or to herself.

Darkness
is gathering in the trees. "What was that?" she asks, startled by a
sharp cry from the branches.

"Migratory
birds," I tell her, picking my way carefully along the waterline.
"This is a stop for a lot of them. Someday I'm going to learn all of their
names, but right now I just think of them as happy surprises. This place is
protected, you know. A bird sanctuary." I pause. "My sanctuary.

Sanniyah
stops, forcing me to look back at me. Her head is tilted to one side, exposing
the curve of her throat to me. I eye it hungrily until her words catch me by
surprise. "So why share it?"