Savor: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel (11 page)

For once, I’m going to be bold. I want to see what he does when I invite him to do exactly what he wants to me.

“What’s stopping you? We’ve already kissed before.” I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I’m touching him though really I’m only caressing his tie. Big deal.

But I can feel all that hot, hard strength beneath his shirt, the beat of his heart, the scent of his skin. Relief floods me. We’ve been dancing around this attraction, especially the last few days, and it feels like we’re finally giving in. Again.

Well, I’ve been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.

Maybe he isn’t. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn’t.

“
I’m
stopping me. Or at least I should be,” he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing conclusion to our conversation.

He doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts and worries and concerns, until I’m consumed by the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, overwhelms me, and when he thrusts his tongue deep inside my mouth, I’m lost.

And only Matt will be able to find me.

When he breaks the kiss to slide his mouth down the length of my neck, his low, sexy growl makes my insides flutter. He sounds like he’s barely keeping himself in control, and I reach out, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair like I enjoy doing. His hair is so thick and soft, the strands cling to my fingers, and I feel like I can’t get enough of him.

The way he’s kissing me makes me think he can’t get enough of me either. His mouth returns to mine and devours me. The kiss so hot, wet, and deep, I feel completely and utterly consumed.

I love it. I want more. I cling to him, mold my body to his and wish he would slip his hands beneath my dress. I want to witness his discovery that I’m wearing no bra, no panties, no nothing beneath it.

I have a feeling he’d be rather pleased with that revelation.

“Jesus, Bryn, you feel good,” he says when we come up for air. His hand is roaming, rising from where it rests on my waist to slide up, over my ribcage to rest just beneath my breast. He pulls away slightly, catching sight of my nipples pebbling painfully beneath the silky fabric of my dress, and he lifts his other hand. Traces the deep V neckline of my dress with his fingertip, his touch feather-light as he brushes my skin, causing skitters to rush across it.

Sighing, I close my eyes, savoring his bold, yet delicate touch. He slips his hand beneath the fabric, covering my right breast with just his fingers and makes a rough sound of pleasure at finding me braless.

His calloused fingers play with my nipple, driving me crazy with need, and I drop my arms from around his neck, arching into his touch as I keep my eyes tightly closed. I’m almost afraid to look at him for fear he’ll abandon me once he realizes what we’re doing.

And then he’s kissing me yet again, his hands moving up to cup my face, holding me still. I want to melt. His thumbs brush across my cheeks, his touch gentle, the way he cups my face almost as if he . . . cherishes me. No man has ever held me like this, kissed me like this before. I wrap my arms around his waist, clinging to him, whispering against his lips
please don’t stop, don’t ever stop
, when he stills. Lifts his head from mine and cocks his ear toward the window.

“Did you hear that?” he asks, his voice hushed.

Beyond the roaring in my ears brought on by his skilled mouth and my own pleading words, I can’t really hear anything. Oh, there’s the partygoers outside, their chatter a low hum in the quiet confines of his office. A hint of music coming from the hired band but that’s it.

“I swear I heard someone yell my name.” He kisses the tip of my nose, one cheek, then the other. “Sounded like my father,” he whispers.

“Really?” He kisses my forehead, my temple, my ear, my chin. Sweet, soft little kisses that make my lips tingle in anticipation. “I didn’t realize he was coming.”

“I forgot to tell you about it.” He kisses me this time, his lips lingering on mine for long, delicious moments before he finally breaks it. “I didn’t think he’d show up. More like I hoped he wouldn’t show up.”

I’m surprised that he would even invite him. Last I heard from Ivy, their relationship was strained at best.

And then I hear it. A loud, rough bellow:

“Matthew DeLuca, where the fuck are you, son?”

Matt hears it too—who couldn’t? His entire body goes still and he pulls away, leaving me. I’m immediately cold without him near.

“That’s him,” he says grimly. “I should go.”

“I’ll go with you. Do you want my help?” I reach for him, but he’s still backing up, pulling completely away from my grip.

He’s withdrawing into himself right before me, and I hate seeing it, though I can’t blame him.

He needs to go subdue his father and quick.

“Just mingle and make sure everyone’s having a good time. I need to go and make sure he doesn’t make an ass out of himself and me and ruin everything,” Matt mutters before he turns tail and flees.

I slump against the wall, my heart thumping wildly, my lips still tingling from his delicious kisses. I need to compose myself. Gather my thoughts and emotions and put on the hostess mask.

I need to help Matt. He’s stressed. The last thing he needs to deal with is his volatile father making a scene.

Putting aside my tumultuous emotions and locking my still-wobbly knees, I stand up straight, smooth my hands over my skirt and head for the courtyard.

Chapter Seven

Matt

“S
ON!
T
HERE YOU
are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” my father says as he stumbles toward me.

“Well, you found me.” I grab hold of my dad’s arm to keep him steady. Smells like someone already hit up a bar before arriving here and disgust fills me. I’m pissed that he would show up to one of the most important nights of my life and my career, drunk as hell.

But what did I expect? Not like he cares about me, or my reputation; he’s such a selfish old bastard.

“Where’s the wine?” he asks loudly, drawing the attention of more than one partygoer. “I want a sample of that shit you’re brewing.”

He can’t even get the terms right. “I think you should lay off the booze for a while,” I say as I try and steer him toward the table laden with food. He needs to eat something and drink some black coffee, anything to soak up all that alcohol coursing through his system and sober him up somewhat.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He jerks his arm out of my hold and heads toward the table I wanted him to go to in the first place, grabs a small plate and starts loading up on endless appetizers.

I follow after him, keeping close, smiling and chatting with everyone I recognize or know. I feel like I can’t leave my father’s side, which is such total bullshit, especially because I had to leave a perfectly willing woman back in my office.

Not that I should’ve been fooling around with a woman in my office when I had a party going on out here but . . .

My mind drifts to Bryn and how good she’d felt in my arms. I’d had my hand beneath her dress only moments ago, touching her breast, playing with her nipple, and she hadn’t protested. No, she’d arched into my touch, little sounds of pleasure escaping her. She looked amazing in that dress, her long hair down, her lips parted as she gasped when I gently pinched.

Hell. I want more. I wanted to take her back to my place, strip her out of that dress and kiss every inch of her naked skin. Instead, I’m babysitting my drunken dad.

Fuck, life is really unfair sometimes.

“Quite the spread you got here,” Dad says, clutching his already overflowing plate. “How much did this cost you anyway?”

Damn it, I want to die of embarrassment, his voice is so loud. “Don’t worry Dad, I have it under control,” I reassure him.

“Little snot, won’t tell me how much money you’re spending on this fancy, good-for-nothing shindig. Not that it matters. I don’t care what you do with your money. I already gave you your piece of my pie but that’s it. I’m cutting you off. You’ll have to earn everything else, fair and square.” He lurches toward me, his plate nearly goes flying, and I take it from him, wait while he readjusts himself and stands up straighter.

White hot anger flows through my veins, setting my blood on fire. I want to kill him. Wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until he’s not breathing any longer. Not that I could do such a thing, but every time he acts like this, which is pretty much every time I see him, he makes me hate him more.

It’s a lot more complicated than that though, my relationship with my dad. I also love him. Still seek out his approval despite how much trouble he causes.

And Vinnie DeLuca causes an enormous amount of trouble everywhere he goes.

“Let’s find you somewhere to sit,” I tell my dad, grabbing hold of his arm again and leading him toward the tables where guests sit and eat. He jerks against my hold, muttering a string of curse words in protest, but I ignore him. The old man might be the same size as me, but I’m younger and stronger.

“You’re manhandling me like you’re gonna kick me out of here, son,” he says when I push him into a seat. Thank God this table is empty. I don’t need him spouting off to other guests.

“Just trying to help you out, Dad,” I say through my clenched teeth. Glancing around, I check to see if anyone is watching, specifically anyone from the media, but for the most part, no one’s acknowledging us.

Thank God.

“Mr. DeLuca! It’s a pleasure meeting you.” Bryn appears in front of the table, an angel in magenta clutching a white coffee mug. The smile on her face is as bright as her eyes, and she shoots me a knowing look before she returns her attention to my father.

“Well, well, who’s this pretty young thing?” Dad takes the mug from her and sips, wincing when he discovers what it is. “Coffee?”

“Decaf. And laced with whiskey.” She winks at him, then winks at me, and I know she’s full of absolute crap, just saying that to make him happy. God, I could hug her for this. Kiss her.

Not that I need an excuse to kiss Bryn. My body is still humming from our shared kisses.

“Thank you,” Dad says gratefully as he drinks from the cup, finishing off half of it in a couple of swallows. “It’s good.”

“Miss James is notorious for making the best cup of coffee around,” I say, hoping she can hear the gratitude in my voice.

“You know her, son?”

“She’s my assistant.” I wave a hand between them. “Dad, this is Bryn James. Bryn, this is Vinnie DeLuca.”

“Lovely meeting you.” She takes Dad’s proffered hand, literally batting her eyelashes at him. I swear I hear a hint of her Texas twang when she speaks.

And it’s sexy as hell.

“Likewise.” Dad won’t let go of her hand, and she has to tug out of his hold as discreetly as possible, not that he notices. “You’re a looker, darlin’. Where you from?”

“Why, Cactus, Texas, sir.” More batting of the eyelashes, her voice is syrupy thick with the accent. She’s flirting with my dad and I don’t know if I should be horrified or thankful.

She doesn’t really . . .
want
to flirt with him, does she?

“Well, what do you know, I met a hot little thing who lived near Cactus years ago, when I was on one of the farm teams. That was a long, long time ago though.” Dad grins, most likely reliving the memory and enjoying the hell out of it.

“I probably know her. Not many people ever leave Cactus,” she says.

“Miss James, can I speak with you for a moment? Privately?” I rest my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right alone so you can eat, right Dad?”

“Of course. Go handle your business with your Miss James.” Dad waves a hand, cackling wickedly. “You sure are smart son, more than I give you credit for, hiring a looker like this one. I bet you chase her around your desk all the damn time, trying to get your hands on that ass. I know I would.”

Bryn stiffens, her expression frozen with shock. I see it happen right before my eyes. She looks at me, her gaze a little wild, her chest rising and falling with her accelerated breaths.

I have no idea why his words triggered that strong of a reaction, but, of course, my dad’s involved so what else is new? The man offends women—everyone—on a constant basis.

“Dad. Come on. Show the lady some respect,” I say, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dad starts digging into his food, not bothering to offer her an apology, and I feel like shit.

This night is going from bad to worse at a rapid pace.

Bryn

M
ATT STEERS ME
to a dark corner a few feet away from the packed courtyard so we’re standing beneath a mighty oak that actually doesn’t have a string of lights wound through the branches. His expression is grim, his gaze contrite as he turns to face me.

“I’m sorry.” He runs a hand over his face, looking downright traumatized. “My father is an asshole, and I can’t believe he said those things to you.”

“It’s okay,” I say softly, my heart still panging from Vinnie DeLuca’s earlier words. They’d cut way too close to the truth, reminding me of my old boss.

And of how I haven’t changed a bit, even though I think I have. I fall into the same habits time and again, self-destructive to the point that I’m wondering if I seek this sort of attention out.

Was I so neglected as a child that I prefer any attention, good or bad?

“No, it’s not okay. You came sweeping in, handling everything perfectly and he still treats you like that. He’s awful.” Matt blows out a frustrated breath and rests his hands on his hips, staring out at the courtyard. The music has picked up the pace, and people are actually dancing. The wine is flowing and being praised; the grounds are still packed with people. The party is a huge success.

And here Matt stands, looking so desolate and sad all I can think about is how much I want to comfort him.