The Billionaire's Dare (Book 4 - Billionaire Bodyguard Series) (13 page)

Holy hell, he was amazing. No wonder women didn’t care if he dated them, as long as he came back to their beds.

Thrashing in the sheets, her skin slick with perspiration, she shook with need. “Adam,” she panted. “Please make me come.”

“Make you?” he said in a displeased tone.

“Let me?” she whimpered.

“Hmm. I’ll think about it. After you sit on my face.”

Oh. My. God. “Okay,” she agreed weakly.

He crawled up her, leaving her lower half wobbly and desperate for more of anything he was willing to give. She’d never been commanded or owned in the bedroom before. But he owned her now. Completely. She became a slave to his demands. Anything he wanted, she’d give him. Anything.

Sucking on her nipples, he left stinging bites that sent sparks of pleasure through her core. As he rocked his hips against hers, she gasped at his enormous erection straining his boxers. A warm bead of moisture touched her skin through the cloth, proving how much he wanted her, too. And how much strength and stamina he possessed to make himself wait until she reached orgasm first.

Not
the selfish
, egotistical asshole he’d claimed to be.

“You live up to your reputation. And exceed all my expectations.”

He sent her a sly grin of satisfaction. “I told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Oh, my. Yes, please!

He maneuvered her body with ease and confidence, shifting their positions so his head rested against the pillow, and she straddled his shoulders. “Now I have you where I want you. Come give me what I need.”

What
he
needed? Though the position embarrassed her slightly, she refused to give in to her self-consciousness, rising up on her knees until his mouth consumed her again.

Her head fell back and she moaned as his tongue swirled over her flesh. She throbbed and ached for release.

This time he gave her the excitement of penetration. Gripping her ass firmly in one hand, he slid his middle and forefingers inside her.

“Mmm, hell yeah. You’re so wet, sugar.”

Since she couldn’t respond in words, she lifted her hips up and down on his fingers, as he drove her toward climax. “Uh-uh,” he warned. “Not yet.”

“What?” she gasped. “Why?”

“Not until I tell you to come.”

“Adam—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!”

“I own your pleasure. You’ll come when I say you can come.”

“Oh.” Damn it, she couldn’t argue with him. As she’d admitted earlier, she was a slave to his demands. “Don’t stop,” she whimpered.

“I won’t. If you do what I say.”

She nodded. She’d never been denied the right to her own orgasm. She flushed head to toe, shocked by how arousing it was to be dominated.

“Take my fingers deep inside you,” he demanded.

She arched and sank down further, welcoming his touch into the slick depths of her. As she lowered herself more, she felt him probe her in a place no man had ever touched. She sucked in a breath as his pinky finger invaded the tight circle. It didn’t hurt, but it was too…different. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

Rising again, she tried to brush him away from the spot, suddenly sensitized as his three fingers moved inside her. “Hands on the headboard.
Now.”

“But—”

“Now.”

So embarrassing,
she thought, mortified. But she
’d admitted she was willing to do
anything.

Within seconds the triple stimulation had her writhing against him. “Oh, God. Oh, yes. So good.”

“Come for me.” The sexy growl set off fireworks inside her.

Thank you.
She rode his mouth with abandon. She gripped the headboard with one hand, his shoulder with the other. Sensation spiraled to a perfect white-hot point.
Oh, oh, oh!
Then pleasure burst inside her, rocking her hips, rushing to her limbs. The intensity mind-blowing. 

Yes…

“Uhhhh.” She groaned again and again, unable to catch her breath, compelled by the continuous surges of bliss as he drew out her orgasm—orgasms?—until she collapsed. Internal and external orgasms at the same time...wow.
Hallelujah.

And she couldn’t move. He’d been right.

He eased her down to the bed beside him. As air refilled her lungs, she lay in a heap of shattered nerve-endings, her arms and legs too heavy to lift. She could only lie there and appreciate the way his hand caressed gently between her thighs, urging her toward another peak. Before she could recover, another orgasm flooded her.

She released a shuddering breath, a whispery sigh. The room smelled like the musk of well-satisfied female, and she felt like she was lying on a bed of cotton candy in her own private sugarcoated dream world.

Adam rose from the bed, left for a minute, and returned from the bathroom, crawling into bed beside her. Confused, her head in a daze, she licked her lips and managed to turn her head toward him. “Did you…” A prick of hurt touched her heart. “But why?”

He chuckled. “No, I didn’t. Get myself off, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well, don’t you want to…with me…?”

“Not tonight, sugar.”

“What?” She lay stunned, unblinking. “Why not?”

“I gave you what you needed. This was about you.”

“It’s about you, too,” she said, a pout forming on her lower lip.

“Tonight you’re vulnerable. Tomorrow, in the light of day when your head is clear, you can make the decision if you want me that way.”

“But you know how I feel. You don’t have to wait.”

“Yeah, I do. Rest up, sugar. The estate sale is tomorrow, and you said you wanted to drive home after. It’s going to be a long day. I need a solid night’s sleep as badly as you.”

“I know but—”

He leaned over and touched the barest kiss to her lips, a sweet brush, not seductive but caring. “It’s okay. I promise. Good night.”

She lay in the darkness for a few moments until she heard his breathing deepen, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic movements. She had no idea what just happened.

Did he want her? Did he
not
want her?

He’d made her feel so good, yet from the start he had expected nothing in return.
This was about you.

Confusion clashed with gratitude for his decision. For insisting she choose to be with him when her emotions weren’t so tangled and compromised. He’d told her she deserved better than one night with him. Now she worried her heart wanted much, much more.

She rested her head against his shoulder, his skin so warm and surprisingly soft beneath her cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before the heavy curtain of sleep extinguished all thought and beckoned her back to the place of dreams where the unexpected was possible, even if only for a moment.

The next morning, Marissa inhaled and stretched. The scent of Irish Spring soap tickled her nose. She blinked her eyes open and saw Adam, his hair still damp from a shower,
hunched
in the chair in the corner. He held a paperback in one hand—
The Old Man and the Sea
she’d given him the night they met. He dwarfed the book with his large fingers. He’d cracked the spine and rolled the pages back like a newspaper. He squinted at the page, held it up at an angle, shook it slightly.

Unable to help herself, she smiled and sat up in bed. “A book isn’t a Boggle game, Adam. You can’t shake it and make the letters come down in a different order.”

He grunted. “Wish I could. Some parts make sense. Other stuff is just beyond me.”

“You’ll get it eventually. I have faith in you.” She bit her lip and plucked at the comforter, a little nervous. “Do you want to talk about last night?”

Setting the book aside, he folded his hands and shook his head. “Later.”

“After the auction?”

“Let’s get home and settle back into life again. Then we’ll talk.”

She peered at him. “Why are you so anxious to avoid me?”

“Not you, sugar.” He sent her a dazzling grin. “Just the subject.”

The rebuff didn’t settle well. “What are you so afraid of?”

His grin dropped to a scowl. “Huh? Nothing. Go hop in the shower. I’m starved. There’s a diner in town where we can grab breakfast, right?”

She shrugged. “Yes. I’ll go get ready.”

“Cool. I want to get to Tate’s house early, scope out the situation.” His expression darkened. “Find out more about this lawyer.”

She blinked. “What lawyer?”

He wore a mask of caution. “I’ll tell you at the diner.”

Adam made a stop before they went to breakfast. He returned to the truck holding a gift bag and withdrew a cowgirl hat, the stiff material airbrushed to resemble a desert sunset. She wrinkled her nose. “What’s this?”

“A souvenir.” He winked. “Some added cover, too. I saw an old picture of you at the bar last night. You’ve changed. For the better,” he added. “Dark hair looks great on you, and I’m glad you lost the poofy bangs. But a hat to hide your gorgeous eyes can’t hurt, if you need a little cover. Just in case.”

“Thanks.” She smiled as his forethought and the compliments. “Yeah, the old me wouldn’t be caught dead in something this hokey.”

“See? Perfect.”

Perfect.
He’d called her that last night seeing her naked for the first time.
Would it be the last?
she wondered, disappointed by the thought. He’d given her some amazing memories, and her legs clamped together as arousal seeped into her panties. But she wanted to be more than a memory. They had something…intense. Bigger than physical attraction.
Chemistry? It had to be, that was the only word to describe how she felt around him, in and out of bed. Then again, all women probably thought that after a night with Adam.

Depressed by the possibility, she cut the sales tags off the hat with nail clippers from her purse and placed the brim low on her forehead. If other women felt like she did about Adam, she’d rather not know, and keep the beauty of last night an unspoiled memory if that’s all she’d ever have of him.

“Quick recap,” he said as they pulled into the diner parking lot two minutes later. “I stuck to our story that I’m a distant relative of Tate’s from Las Vegas. People were curious, cautious, but I think I pulled it off convincingly. So at the estate sale, I’ll keep up the charade. You’re my girlfriend, here to support me. You can go through the house, find the things you want to take home with you, and I’ll stand next to the pile saying it’s mine.”

“Good thinking. That works.” She nodded, then frowned. “What about the lawyer?”

“I’ll get to that.” He exited the truck and shut the door. She heard him talking through the glass but her body refused to move, frozen by panic.

How many countless times had she eaten at this diner with Grandpa Tate? Stopped for milkshakes after school with friends? The turnover rate for waitresses couldn’t be high, not in this town at such an iconic gathering spot. What if one of the women recognized her?

The passenger door opened. Adam assessed her. “I get it. This has to be hard, and you’re scared. We’ll order breakfast with to-go boxes if you find you need to leave in a hurry.”

She blew out a calming breath and attempted a smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

When he looked at her, she swore she saw something sparkle in his vivid green eyes. Compassion, yes, but more than that…he had her back. He was on her side.

But hey, he was just doing his job, right? Or was there more to it?

No, don’t,
she told the bubble of hope rising in her chest, nudging her heart.
Don’t you dare fall for him.
One night. They’d share one awe-inspiring night together. And he hadn’t even enjoyed himself. In the greater scheme, it would probably lead to nothing.

Still, it felt so good to be
seen.
Adam saw the real her, and he accepted her. No questions asked. Most people would be lucky to come across that once in their lives, if they ever found it at all. He’d done so much for her already. She should be grateful for what she had, instead of wishing for something more.

With the layers of secrets buried inside her, she counted herself fortunate she experienced this depth of understanding with anyone. No matter how brief or fleeing.

Taking her hand, he helped her down from the truck and then laced his fingers through hers. The gesture was for the sake of appearances, she knew, but feeling like one half of something whole, part of a couple, struck yearning through her heart.

He swung open the door for her, and bells tinkled cheerfully. Sunlight poured in through the windows, the reflection off the gray laminate tables blinding at first.

“Howdy,” a woman’s voice called to them. Her gray bob looked impeccable like she’d gone to the same hair salon every day for the past thirty years. She probably had.
Miss Mae’s Beauty Parlor,
next to the
Nall’s
drug store. “Seat yourself. Be with you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Adam chose a booth near the door and met her halfway around the curved bench. She scooted beside him across the well-worn, cracked red pleather seat. “It smells so good,” she murmured to him, feeling shy for some reason.

“Yeah, it does.” He stretched, scratched his grumbling tummy and reached for the laminated menus propped between the ketchup and mustard bottles.

The waitress dropped off paper placemats and neatly rolled silverware. “What can I get you folks to drink?”

“Coffee,” Adam said.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Cream. I’ve got enough sugar right here.” He draped his arm around Marissa and grinned like the sun rose and set on her.

Was it wrong to swoon a little? “Orange juice for me, thanks.”

“Aww, bless your hearts. Need more time with the food order?”

Adam nodded. “We’re from out of town. Not familiar with the diner’s menu.”

“Gorgeous couple like you, it’s no surprise. Y’all from Hollywood?”

“Las Vegas,” he said.

“Too much glamour for these parts. I’ll come by in another minute, give you time to accustom yourselves to our greasy spoon style.”

“Greasy spoon beats a silver spoon any day.”

“That’s for sure. Too bad you didn’t cross my path twenty years ago. I’d have left this sorry town and followed you to Vegas in a heartbeat.”

“Sorry, ma’am. My heart’s taken.”

“Ah, young love. Enjoy it, you two. Life won’t wait for you to make up your mind, before you figure out you lost the best thing you ever had.”

“That’s kind of sad,” Adam mused.

“It’s true,” Marissa replied and looked at the menu that hadn’t changed in ten years or more. “Small-town diner wisdom at its finest.”

“I’ll tell you what else is fine.” He nuzzled her neck with his scratchy stubble and nipped her playfully.

“Adam, stop.” She shoved him away and giggled, realizing such a carefree, pleasant sound hadn’t come from her lips in ages.
So nice…
Don’t get used it,
she warned herself, unable to stop affectionate warmth
from seeping into her chest.

Although, since this was all an act, why shouldn’t she enjoy it? Just a little?

“What do you recommend,” he asked her.

“They have a stack of pancakes with marmalade and a side of sausage links you’ll die for.”

“Good.” He dropped his menu to the table. “Done.”

“I’m pretty boring. I stick with my usual two eggs, over medium, with a side of hash browns and bacon.”

“Pretty, yes,” he agreed, his eyes sparkling down at her. “Boring? Hell, no.”

She elbowed him in the side. “You’re laying it on thick, pal.”

His eyelids lowered halfway. “You think I don’t mean it?”

“I think it doesn’t matter what I think.”

“You’re wrong,” he murmured.

“Doubt it.”

“I’m faking this as much as you faked your orgasms last night.”

Her nostrils flared at his brazen statement. What had gotten into him? “Well, I wish you wouldn’t act like this with me.”

“Why not?”

Wait, her answer might give away her real feelings. And he’d run for the hills. She wanted to enjoy this side of him as long as it lasted. “No one will believe I’m your girlfriend, not for any length of time. Couples lose this fun, gooey stuff by month three.”

“Huh.” He scratched his chin. Then he shrugged. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.” He tickled her and she collapsed against him in a fit of laughter.

“You two don’t need a table, you need a room,” the waitress said with a patient smile on her hot-pink lips.

“Already got it covered,” Adam said, grinning and wagging his eyebrows at Marissa.

She swatted his arm. “You are impossible. Just order already.”

They both placed their orders. Adam added, “Hey, can we get some to-go boxes, too?”

“In case of emergency.” The waitress shook her head but maintained her pleasant smile. “You two make a woman wish she was young again.”

“True love knows no age,” Marissa assured her, though she didn’t exactly have the experience in love to back up her claim.

She hadn’t seen many successful relationships, mostly because she hadn’t cultivated friendships that lasted long enough to see how people’s lives developed during courtship, love and marriage. Her one close friend in Denver, Lindsey Rowan, was the best example she knew, since Lindsey and Slone’s love seemed destined to stand the test of time.

“My girl’s smart. Master’s degree and all. She knows her stuff,” Adam said proudly and waved to the waitress as she turned and attached their order to the wheel at the kitchen counter. Then he draped his arm along Marissa’s seat back.

“You know I don’t even think about the difference in our education,” Marissa told him, wanting to make that point clear.

“That’s cool. I think it’s great you’ve done so well.” He slid a fingertip along the ruffled, low-cut collar of her sleeveless top and traced her bra strap. He whispered in her ear, “Good thing I have a different kind of education to keep you interested.”

A little shiver chased down her spine. She grinned at him. “Oh, yes, you do.”

Their glances caught and held, and she swore she saw the unusual glimmer again. “Maybe later, before we leave the motel, you’d be up for another lesson?”

Really?
The notion made her giddy.
Yes, please.
But she played it cool. “I don’t see how you can top last night.”

He arched a wicked eyebrow. “That sounds like a challenge, sugar. I can teach you all kinds of things you’ve never experienced. If you can handle it.”

“I’m a quick study.”

“Yes, you are.” His gaze fell to her lips. “I like that about you.”

“You can be very…enlightening.”

He winked. “Just wait.”

The promise in his eyes foretold of another tempting experience awaiting her. So he didn’t want to talk about their sexual encounters. She could live with that for now. Show versus tell definitely had its advantages. Especially in the bedroom with Adam.

The bells chimed on the door. Adam looked up and his smile broadened. “Red Eye. Good to see you again, man.”

They shook hands. The strange guy wearing the duster jacket, cowboy boots and feathered hat—in this insane heat?—seemed pleased to see Adam, too.

“I want to introduce you to my girl. Marissa, this is Red Eye. We met at Tate’s bar last night.”

Uh-oh.
He might be strange, but he wasn’t a stranger. The moment he took her hand and bowed over it to kiss her knuckles, she remembered. Jack Stern, or Red Eye, had spent countless nights sobering up over stale coffee at Tate’s Bar after they’d closed. He was a personal friend of her grandfather’s, if a bit odd and eccentric.