Torn: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel (12 page)

Not with this woman. She offers these glimpses of her personal life so rarely, I cherish every tidbit I learn. Which is fucking crazy, truly. I shouldn’t be that wrapped up in her, wanting to learn more, everything about her, wanting to kiss her . . .

“A mutt, huh?” I don’t even know what to say to that for fear I’ll mistakenly insult her father and piss her off.

She offers me a secretive smile, the sight of it sending a zing straight to my heart—and my cock. This woman twists me up into such complete knots, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to unwind myself from them—or her. “My mother is Sicilian. There are a lot of blonde, blue- and green-eyed Sicilians out there. I happen to be one of them.”

A beautiful one, too. She’s so beautiful just looking at her hurts.

Not having her in front of me to look at hurts too.

Which means at the mere age of twenty-eight, I am completely ruined for any other woman. And I don’t even care. I want to revel in the ruin.

My brain on overload, I drive the rest of the way to the restaurant in silence, taking the curves at high speed, enjoying the way the tires stick to the road, the squeal of rubber on asphalt making me smile. I downshift, the whine of the engine like music to my ears, and the faster I drive, the more I get into it.

“You’re crazy,” she whispers as I gain speed, going close to one hundred on a straightaway a few miles from the restaurant.

I roll down the windows, let the cool night air wash over my heated skin. Her hair blows everywhere, even restrained by the ponytail, and a long blonde strand hits me in the face, causing me to push it away. I chance a look at her, see that she’s gripping the edge of her seat, her body on edge, her expression full of . . . excitement?

Really?

“You like it,” I say, my tone practically a dare. “You’re literally sitting on the edge of your seat.”

“I do like it,” she quietly admits, her wild eyes meeting mine. A shaky exhalation leaves her, and she nods toward me. “Go faster.”

My foot presses on the gas pedal, picking up speed. She’s watching me; I can feel her gaze on me, and I reach toward her, pushing all that sexy, wind-blown hair away from her face. Before I can drop my hand, she leans her cheek into my palm, then turns and presses a hot, wet kiss to my flesh, her tongue darting out for a quick lick.

I swear.

Ah, hell. I grow instantly hard, letting my hand fall from her cheek, but she wraps her fingers around my wrist, bringing my hand to her mouth and drawing my index finger deep inside her mouth, dragging her wet, lush lips along the length before she releases it, her eyes never leaving mine.

Easing my foot off the gas, I swallow hard. She’s going to kill me. I tear my gaze from hers, keeping my attention on the road. It’s dark, it feels like we’re virtually alone, and I’m tempted. So tempted to pull over, kiss her until she’s gasping my name, and then fuck her in the back seat just like I first envisioned.

I chance a glance at her, see the flushed cheeks, the parted lips. I recognize that look from last night. She’s aroused.

Hell, yeah. So am I.

Downshifting, I pull over. I throw the car into park and lean over the center console at the exact time she moves toward me. We attack each other, lips searching, hands wandering, clinging, fighting to draw our bodies closer, but the awkward space makes it difficult.

“I want you,” she whispers against my mouth before she sucks my lower lip between hers. “Please.”

“Seriously?” I’m in absolute shock. She acted like having sex with me was the biggest mistake of her life. But here she is leaning into my hands as I curve them around her breasts, her breaths coming out in sharp pants as she rests her hands over mine, making me squeeze her breasts together.

Damn, she’s hot.

“Seriously.” Her voice tinged with amusement, she withdraws from my touch, moving closer to the passenger side door. Slowly she reaches for the hem of her shirt and tugs it up, then off, tossing it onto the back seat. Her bra is black, smooth satin and my mouth waters as she reaches behind her, unclasping it and tearing it off so it falls from her fingertips onto the floorboard.

I can’t form words. She strips off each article of clothing until she’s completely naked, coming at me like a woman possessed. I feel like a man possessed, obsessed with the feel of her soft skin beneath my palms, the taste of her. She climbs on top of me, pressing all that hot, wet deliciousness against my denim-covered cock, grinding against me like she’s trying to get off.

Shit. Maybe she is trying to get off.

But no. She wants to involve me in the action too. Her nimble fingers undo my button fly and she’s reaching inside my boxer briefs, sure fingers curling around the length of my cock. Knowing I’m about to blow, I lightly slap her hand away, reaching behind me to pull out my wallet and the condom nestled within.

I packed extra in the glove compartment earlier. I’m not an idiot.

“You make me crazy,” she whispers, snatching it out of my fingers. She tears into it, rolling the condom onto my cock and then she’s on top of me, slowly sinking until I’m completely imbedded inside her.

A car drives by, the bright white lights flashing across her, offering me a glimpse of her swaying breasts, her hips as they slowly move up and down. I grasp her there, steadying her, keeping her slow, afraid I’ll ruin it by coming too fast.

Because holy shit, I’m ready to explode. I’m still fully clothed save for my open jeans and she’s deliciously naked. All that fragrant, soft skin is wrapped around me, her breasts in my face, nipples teasing my lips. I draw one in deep, sucking, tonguing, teasing her until she’s tossing her head back, riding me relentlessly. I shift away from her, wanting to watch. She’s beautiful in her abandon, so lost as she races toward that delicious moment, and I want to mark this moment permanently in my brain.

“So good,” she breathes, tipping her head back down so she can press her forehead to mine. I tip my chin up, brush her mouth with mine and she devours me. The kiss hot, wet. Deep. I grip the end of her ponytail, tugging hard and she gasps.

Damn. She likes that too. If we didn’t hate each other so much, I’d believe she was made just for me.

“Harder, Gage,” she encourages, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Make me come.”

Ah, fuck. I can’t resist that. I increase my pace, thrusting hard, filling her again and again until she’s crying out my name, her body quivering, sobs falling from her lips as she collapses against me.

I hold her close, tracing circles on her back with my fingertips, making her shiver. Her grip around my neck is like a vice, her face buried into my neck. I feel her warm lips press sweet kisses to my flesh, and I squeeze her closer, our racing hearts in complete and total sync.

“You haven’t come yet,” she whispers against my throat, her tongue licking.

My cock twitches. It’s more than aware of that. “I know.”

She lifts her head up, her arms loosely resting around my neck, her expression slumberous and full of satisfaction. “Let me make that up to you,” she murmurs as she slowly starts to grind against me.

I wrap my hands around her waist, guiding her, my gaze locked where our bodies meet. She’s moving on me slow and sure, little murmurs of pleasure escaping her, and I can’t look away. I’m entranced by the way she moves, the words she says, the way she looks at me.

What am I doing? What is she doing to me? I feel lost . . . gloriously, deliciously lost in my need to have her.

Only her.

I’m closer to the edge, unable to hold back, when she reaches between us and touches my cock, then her clit. The sight of her slender fingers playing down there sends me right over the edge, making me gasp as my hips buck against her. She smiles her encouragement, murmuring my name, and I grab hold of her ponytail pulling her face to mine so I can drown in her kiss.

Fuck. I’m wrecked. All because of this woman.

Chapter Nine

Marina

I
ENTER THE
building with my head held high, pretending I have everything completely under control, while inside I’m a confused mass of jumbled nerves and rapidly growing insecurities. Smoothing my hair back from my face, I glance toward Gage as he stops just beside me, tall and commanding, earning plenty of appreciative glances from the various women sitting in the lobby and waiting to be seated.

He finds me watching him and flashes me a dazzling smile, making my heart race. I remember what he looked like only minutes ago, dazed and fascinated with me as I rose above him, naked and greedy and crazed with wanting him. Riding his thick cock straight into oblivion.

I don’t know what came over me. Watching him drive that powerful, outrageously expensive car, his big hand shifting the gears, his thighs flexing as he pressed the pedals, sent me into a sexual tizzy. Just like that, I wanted him. Had to have him at that very moment or felt like I was going to die. I’ve never reacted like that to a man.

Ever.

“Do I look okay?” I whisper, leaning into him as I tuck yet another tendril behind my ear. I’d slicked on fresh lipstick while still in the car, pulling my clothes into place as best I could. He’d barely done anything, just tucked himself back into his jeans, tugged on his sweater, and he was good to go.

Men. They’re disgustingly easy sometimes.

“Truth?” He smiles, and I sort of want to punch him for being so ridiculously good looking. I feel like a frazzled mess while he looks amazing. His hair is a little messy—from my eager fingers, I might add—but it’s a good look for him.

Everything’s a good look for him.

“Of course, tell me the truth,” I mutter, irritated. Great, I must look a complete mess if he feels the need to tell me the “truth.” I wonder if I have time to dash into the bathroom and put myself back together before we have to go sit down with Archer and his fiancé.

I really hope I like his fiancé. I’m more nervous meeting her than talking with Archer. Women hold such a strong influence on their men and their decisions. I know Archer’s a respected businessman, but from what I understand, he’s so far gone over this new and very steady woman in his life, I’m sure he listens to her opinion.

So what if she hates me? She could tell Archer how she feels and
bam
. My chance is over.

Gage grabs hold of my elbow and tugs me closer to him, his mouth right at my ear, hot breath fanning against my skin and making me shiver before he whispers, “You look . . . freshly fucked. And beautiful with it.”

I pull away to meet his gaze, utterly speechless.

He grins. “It’s a good look on you. One I suggest you wear as often as possible.”

I smile and follow through with my earlier instinct, giving him a slug on the arm. He smirks, leans in once more and kisses my cheek, his lips lingering, warm and soft and so comforting I want to melt. “I can keep you in that look all night if you want.”

“Stop.” I shove him away from me, noticing the strange looks we’re receiving from those waiting for a table. Great.

I so don’t want to draw attention to the two of us together. What if someone recognizes us and it gets back to my dad that I’m out on a date with Gage? From what Gage told me, he’s tried to get in contact with my father numerous times since our first encounter. And I know he’s tried to talk to him prior to our meeting too.

I’m basically hanging out with the enemy. My dad would be furious, though I haven’t talked to him about Gage. I’m too scared. It’s bad enough I told my mom his name. It didn’t dawn on me at the time since I was too busy looking for something to wear and not thinking with all cylinders firing. I’d been a little brain-warped after our night together, and now? After the incident in the car?

I’m toast. Done.

“Considering I know just how much you enjoyed getting that particular look, I wanted to make the offer,” he says from over his shoulder as he moves away from me, approaching the hostess’s counter and asking if our other party has already been seated. He flicks his head for me to follow and I do so like a good little girlfriend, letting him take my hand, loving the way he entwines my fingers with his as he leads me through the restaurant.

I can’t believe I’ve fallen into this role so easily. I shouldn’t want to. I shouldn’t do it at all. I’m not his girlfriend and he’s not my boyfriend. We’re not even in a real relationship.

We’re at one of the most expensive and revered restaurants in Napa Valley. Gage and Archer have exquisite taste, I’ll give them that. The place is overflowing with beautiful people, all of them dressed to perfection. I can’t see anything but a sea of suits and finely cut dresses. They all look like they just came out of work.

I look like I’m ready to hang out for the night and go clubbin’. Or worse, I have the freshly fucked look, according to Gage. Can everyone see we just had wild and crazy sex in his car?

God, I hope not.

My fingers tremble, and I feel him squeeze my hand. He comes to a stop, turning to look at me, his face etched with concern. “You okay?”

I shouldn’t let it touch me that he’s being so sweet. But it does. I want to melt at the concern I see reflected in his eyes. “A little nervous,” I admit.

“Archer won’t bite. You’re going to be fine.” He kisses me on the lips, right there in the middle of the freaking restaurant, and I want to both disappear and scream with glee that this man . . . this very fine man standing right here, is mine.

But he’s not. Not really. We’re . . . huh. I don’t know what we’re doing. He wants my family’s property. He’d probably fall to my feet in gratitude if I introduced him to my father, which I so don’t want to do. Helping him get that much closer to what he wants would be idiotic on my part. It would be the end of the bakery.

Besides, I want an opportunity to grow my business. Instead of pushing him away, I’m selfishly spending time with him. And we’re gaining something from each other while we have wild passionate sex on the side. A totally unexpected bonus in this bargain we made.

It’s so strange, so unlike anything I’ve ever done before. There is no definition for what I’m experiencing with Gage.