Waking Up with a Billionaire (The Overnight Billionaires Book 3) (14 page)

“I’m not nervous.” She took the glass and gulped it down in four swallows, then held it out for more.

His eyebrow hiked before he refilled the glass, then he walked to the dresser and picked up his phone. And while he was choosing the music, Chloe took another sip of the excellent cabernet. It didn’t seem to help. She almost jumped out of her skin when the music came on, even though it was the soothing voices of the Ten Tenors.

He turned, his eyes smoldering.

“Take off the sheet, Chloe.”

H
olding the sheet to her breasts, Chloe downed the last of the wine and set the glass on the nightstand. With shaky hands she slowly inched the sheet down, but stopped before she revealed her nipples. “You probably realized the other night that my body isn’t exactly model-perfect. I have small breasts…and bony hip bones…and knobby knees—”

In a single motion, Grayson grabbed the sheet and jerked it to the floor.

“Hey!” Chloe tried to cover the most embarrassing parts, but he had already turned and was walking to the easel.

“Keep one pillow and toss the rest to the floor.”

She did what he asked, but used the last pillow to hide behind. Grayson was so busy preparing his paints and canvas that it took him a few minutes to notice. When he did, his eyebrow cocked.

“My mistake,” he said. “Get rid of the pillow.”

She glared at him and threw it, hoping to smack him in the head. Instead it dropped before it even reached the easel. With nothing else to hide behind, she was forced to accept the situation, although she couldn’t help the blush that seemed to cover every inch of her body. If Grayson noticed, he didn’t comment. His eyes were intense as he studied her.

Did he find her as attractive as she found him? Or did he like more voluptuous women like Madison? She glanced at her slim hips and noticed the tattoo to the left of her hip bone. When she was sixteen, the Chinese symbol had seemed cool. Now it looked ugly and immature. She covered it with her hand.

“What does it mean?” Grayson asked.

She glanced over to him. “‘Brave.’”

A smile flirted with his lips. “Then be brave enough to show it off.” She lowered her hand, but as soon as she did, he started ordering her around. “Lie on your side facing me…that’s it. Place your hand on the mattress…higher so I can see your breasts. Lower your knee a little…more. Can you move your hip back?” He studied her for a moment before he tossed down the pencil. “No. This isn’t right.”

Before she could feel completely inadequate as far as naked models go, he walked over and started arranging the blankets and pillows on the floor. He covered them with a quilt, then stepped to the bed and scooped Chloe into his arms. She had a brief tingle of hard chest against soft breast before he lowered her to the floor and knelt next to her, arranging her limbs like she was his own personal Gumby doll.

With his hot hands touching her feet, her calves, the sensitive skin on the backs of her knees, her bones turned to butter. As he adjusted and readjusted, she could do nothing but drink him in. The dark whiskers on his jaw. The small indentation at the base of his throat. The strong horizontal ridges of his collarbones. The heart-shaped birthmark on his shoulder. The tempting hard planes of his pectoral muscles as he lifted her legs—

Chloe sucked in her breath as he adjusted a pillow beneath her hips and his fingers brushed her butt cheeks. She had barely gotten over the jolt of the touch when he manacled her wrists and stretched her arms above her head, leaning so close that she could smell the cabernet scent of his breath. So close that she could count his thick lashes and the indigo flecks in the irises of his eyes.

Once he had her where he wanted her, he leaned back and gave her one more heated once-over before getting to his feet. “Don’t move,” he ordered. “Stay right where you are.”

He didn’t have to worry. Her body was nothing but a melted puddle of wax. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. Every one of her senses seemed to be relaxed and, at the same time, on high alert. She no longer felt embarrassed. Stretched out on the floor in front of him, she just felt sexy. The feeling only intensified as he took a seat and started to draw.

He sketched on the canvas with the fluidity and skill of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Exactly what he wanted. It seemed like only seconds had passed when he tossed down his pencil and picked up his brush. The way he painted was twice as sensuous as the way he drew. The brush was like an extension of his hand, and the canvas her body. Wherever his hot gaze landed, she felt the stroke of his brush. Her feet. Her legs. Her breasts. Her warm center. Time seemed to stand still and, at the same time, race forward. And all she could do was lie there and watch as he worshipped her like no man had ever worshipped her. He made her feel beautiful. Breathtaking. And wicked.

She now understood what it meant to be “captured on canvas.” With every brushstroke he captured her mind, body, and soul. She was no longer Chloe McAlister…or even Selena Cameron. Right now she was Grayson’s. For all eternity she wanted to be…

“Grayson’s.”

She didn’t realize she had spoken until his hand halted in mid-brushstroke. His gaze found hers, and she lost herself in the depths of the bluish-purple flames as he dropped the brush and slowly rose from the stool. He walked toward her. Or more like stalked. She definitely felt like prey as he stood at her feet and looked down at her with hungry eyes. She could’ve lowered her arms—it was obvious that the painting session was over—but she didn’t. Instead she remained perfectly still. A willing sacrifice on the altar of Grayson.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

She nodded, then watched as he flicked open the fly of his jeans, then slowly lowered his zipper. While he painted, she’d thought he viewed her as a subject rather than a woman, but the rigid penis that popped out said otherwise. The sight of his tangible passion had a moan slipping from her lips. A second later his jeans and boxers were off and kicked to the side.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered. When she complied, he knelt on the quilt between them, his hard thighs brushing the insides of hers. With the pillow beneath her hips, she was completely exposed to his view. But she didn’t feel embarrassed. Only needy. The need intensified when his gaze devoured her. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He reached out as if his finger were a paintbrush and stroked her from the top of her moist center to the bottom and back again. When his fingertip flicked against her clitoris, it was all she needed to send her toppling into an orgasm. She didn’t realize how pumped with desire she had been until it exploded in a shower of white-hot release.

“Gray!” she heard herself yell as her hips lifted against his finger and her legs stiffened around his thighs.

“Fuck,” he said before he lifted her hips even higher and plunged inside. The deep stretch had her desire resurfacing, but before things could get even hotter, he stopped and spoke between his teeth. “Please tell me you’re on birth control, Chloe.”

Before she could finish shaking her head, he had withdrawn and was gone. She heard drawers opening and slamming, then the thump of hurried footsteps out of the room, followed only a second later by, “Thank you, Nash!” He came striding back into the room, and she didn’t even have time to admire his body before he was kneeling between her legs. He lifted her hips and, in one deep thrust, entered her. The look on his face catapulted her right back into a haze of desire. He looked as if he had just found heaven. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back, all his muscles tight and straining for release. A hiss came through his teeth before he pulled out and thrust again. And again. And again.

His lovemaking wasn’t gentle or hesitant. It was raw and commanding. His hands gripped her hips as he drove into her and took complete possession. By the fifth stroke, she was mindless. By the eighth, she had her feet on the floor and was meeting him thrust for thrust. And at the tenth, she toppled over the edge once more and gave up ownership of her body to him. “Gray!”

His hands tightened on her hips as he thrust one last time with a loud groan. She felt his body relax as he slid over her. With his arms holding most of his weight, he pressed his face into her neck and released his breath on a sigh of contentment.

“That was so damned good.”

She smiled and closed her eyes, too satisfied to say anything.

He lifted his head. “Chloe?” She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with a knotted brow. “It was good, right? I mean it was good for you?”

The insecure question was so unlike Grayson that she couldn’t help teasing him. “No, it was awful. Three orgasms are standard—two just merely okay.”

She expected him to laugh. Instead he looked even more concerned. “Okay?”

She would’ve confessed the truth if she hadn’t gotten a cramp in her neck. Not a little cramp, but a clawing fist of a cramp that radiated down her spine. She tried to grab at the painful spot, but couldn’t with Grayson in the way. “Get off,” she yelled. As soon as he complied, she rolled to her side and grabbed her neck.

“What is it?” Grayson asked.

“A cramp. A bad cramp.”

Kneeling over her, he pushed her fingers out of the way and started to massage her neck. “Give it a second. It will go away. You probably just posed in one position for too long.”

“Ya think?” she said sarcastically, maybe a little too sarcastically, because Grayson stopped massaging and left. She tried to lift her head to see where he’d gone, but it hurt too much. “I’m sorry,” she yelled. “I get a little nasty when I’m in pain.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Grayson reappeared and lifted her into his arms.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “I can’t go to the hospital. They ask a lot of questions at a hospital.”

“You don’t need to go to the hospital. You need some heat.” He carried her into the bathroom and straight into the tiled shower stall, where blissfully hot water was already spraying from the showerhead. He set her on her feet, then directed the nozzle until it hit the cramping spot on her neck. Within seconds the muscles released and the pain lessened. She enjoyed the hot spray of water for a few minutes before she lifted her head and scraped back her wet hair.

Grayson stood at the back of the shower looking like the cover of an erotic romance novel with water beading and dripping down his smooth skin and tight muscles.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Rather than stare at him in rabid lust, she reached for the soap and started washing her body. “I guess posing followed by floor sex was too much for my muscles to handle.”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “Even if the sex was just okay?”

She bit back a smile. “Maybe
okay
wasn’t the right word. It was nice.”

“Nice?”

“Very nice.” She dipped her head under the water to rinse off, then almost choked when strong hands closed around her waist. “What are you doing?” she sputtered as he pulled her out of the spray and into his arms.

“Going for a better grade.” He lowered his head and kissed her. And Grayson’s kisses were as amazing as his lovemaking. He kissed like he painted, his lips and tongue stroking a picture of heat and passion that had her entire body trembling. She could’ve continued to kiss him forever, but he pulled back with a nip on her lower lip. “So tell me what you want, Chloe. Exactly what you want.”

At that moment all she wanted was another taste of his lips. “Kiss me,” she whispered as her hands curled around his neck.

But instead of kissing her mouth, he kissed her chin. “Here?” When she shook her head, he moved lower, tracing her neck with lips that seemed hotter than the spray of water on her back. “What about here?” Again she shook her head. He moved up to her ear and nibbled on her lobe. “Here?” A fresh wave of tingles skittered through her as he moved lower, trailing kisses over one shoulder, along her collarbone, then down the center of her rib cage. Her nipples hardened just from the sight of his dark head nestled between her breasts. “Here?” His breath brushed her skin like warm syrup as he moved to the rigid nipple of one breast. “Or maybe here?”

She expected a gentle kiss like the ones he’d given the rest of her body. Instead his lips delivered a hot, wet pull that had her fingers burrowing into his wet hair.

“Please, Grayson,” she said on a groan.

“Aww, here.” His breath chilled the wetness of her nipple before he continued the sweet torture, but this time he used the edges of his bottom teeth until she gasped. He did the same to her other breast until it was as pebbled and hard. Then he knelt in front of her and kissed his way down her stomach to the spot between her legs.

The heat of his mouth had her knees buckling. His grip tightened on her waist before she could melt to the floor, and he moved her to the bench, where he spread her legs and continued his deep, intimate kisses. He didn’t flick his tongue as much as swirl it. Around and around her clitoris in slow circles that made her dizzy without her even moving. It felt amazingly good, but as her body tightened and her desire heightened, she needed more.

“Faster,” she breathed as her hips lifted and her fingers tightened in his hair. “Harder.” He took instruction well, and within seconds she was spiraling into an orgasm. Since she had yelled out her last two, she tried to keep quiet. But it was no use. The feelings were too intense, too amazing, to keep inside. “Yesss! Yes!” She rode the wave until the last tingle, then allowed her muscles and bones to melt back against the shower wall.

“So was that just nice?”

She opened her eyes to find Grayson still kneeling in front of her. His hair hung in damp ringlets, and droplets of water beaded his shoulders, where her feet rested. When had she put her feet there? She might’ve been embarrassed if she hadn’t felt so content. She left them there and sent him a lazy smile. “It was amazing.”

He looked like he had just won the spelling bee. “Really? You’re not just saying that so you don’t hurt my feelings?”

She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows how much I worry about hurting people’s feelings.” She lifted her foot and tapped the tip of his nose with her big toe. “For someone who has bedded hundreds of simpering models, you certainly are insecure.”

He grabbed her foot and kissed the bottom, his tongue flicking out and leaving a heated trail along her sole. “Who told you that I’ve bedded hundreds of women?”

“No one had to tell me. If you make other women you paint feel the way you made me, it just makes sense.”