His Desire (Billionaire Blind Date Book 5)
Read His Desire (Billionaire Blind Date Book 5) Online
Authors: Jacinda Chance
His Desire
Billionaire Blind Date
Book Five
Jacinda Chance
Copyright © 2016 Jacinda Chance
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion of it may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or people, living or dead, is a coincidence.
More from Jacinda Chance
Billionaire Blind Date Series:
Coming Soon:
A Hard Man: A Billionaire Romance
Join Jacinda’s Billionaires and Bad Boys Club
, a no-spam mailing list with new release announcements and special offers, so you don’t miss the next installment.
Visit me at
JacindaChance.com
to see what’s new.
“It’s okay, though. I want you to be a very bad girl. We have some lost time to make up for.” His fingers pushed inside, his thumb tapping a rhythm against me. “You don’t have any appointments tomorrow or anything that might require you to be seated for an extended period of time, do you?”
My nipples went tight, and another orgasm, like a tall wave rolling toward shore, started building in my center. “No,” I gasped.
“Good. Because you might find sitting down a touch uncomfortable for a while. You’ll come home with me after dinner and let me do whatever I want, won’t you? I can redden your ass so that a week from now when you go to sit down, you’ll get wet remembering the things I did to you.”
I screamed, and Grant had to grab my waist to keep me from tumbling backward as I arched and came. His whole body jerked, and he clamped onto my hips, holding me still, and he shouted in pleasure of his own. Only then, shuddering, impaled upon his length and riding out the tail of my own orgasm, did I realize that I hadn’t just cried out.
I’d done something he’d been quite clear I should never do again.
I’d screamed his name.
Sophie looked down at me, what she’d done written all over her face. I could tell she thought I’d be angry and react the way I had before.
I wasn’t.
I didn’t.
I put my hands on her ass, on the skin that had to sting under my touch, and rolled my hips to push as deep as I could. I said nothing, because I didn’t know what to say. After a few moments, unable to stand the look of regret on her face, I whispered, “Good girl.”
Sophie sighed, dropped her hands, and collapsed forward, burying her face against my neck with a contented moan. I rubbed her back, and marveled at how right it felt to be with her like this. Exactly what I never wanted, and now I had it, and it felt
right
.
I knew not to trust those feelings, though. I’d watched my father love my mother and end up a pathetic, bullied husband because of it. His weakness repelled me, especially when his inability to stand up to her led him to double-down on me. If he hadn’t let her rule him, perhaps we could have had a normal father/son relationship, instead of one in which all I did was draw his contempt and disappointment.
I would never be like that man, never give any woman the opportunity to slump my shoulders and break my spirit the way he did. I’d decided that years before Sophie came into my life.
But I’d just had to say a final goodbye to the man I’d loved like a father, and it felt so good to have her against me. I could have this moment, couldn’t I?
When gravity slipped me from her body, I pulled her to the side, to lie against me. Her cheek and arm lay on my chest. I felt like I should say something soft, something sweet. She deserved that.
“Thank you for today.” I put my hand over hers on my chest, the ring I’d given her pressing against my palm. Suddenly, softness became too uncomfortable. “And I don’t just mean for the incredible fuck.”
She laughed, when I’d expected her to bristle. Always surprising me.
“Thank
you
for that,” she mumbled. “And you’re welcome for the rest.” She lifted up to look at me, her whiskey eyes even more beautiful than the day I’d met her. “I really am sorry about your uncle. The way you spoke of him . . . I know it must be difficult.”
I nodded. “Like losing a father. He . . . was a good man.” I’d almost said more. Maybe indulging in this moment had been a slippery slope after all. Sophie pressed against me. A part of me wanted to say more, wanted to pour out my feelings about him and let her hold me while I did it.
God damn it.
I cleared my throat. “I realize that you may already have some sort of, I don’t know, wedding preparation plans on Friday? Rehearsals or something, don’t people do that the day before? But if it can be arranged, Hollis would like us to have dinner with him Friday evening.”
It was subtle, but Sophie stiffened. She lifted her face, and that look of regret was back, but this time it wasn’t for screaming my name.
“Grant, about that.”
“If you’re busy, it’s all right. I warned him that you might be.”
“I’m not busy.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Grant . . . the wedding’s been cancelled.”
I don’t know what I’d expected her to say or what I thought could have made her look so uncertain. But it hadn’t been that. I’d agreed to take her to this wedding in exchange for her company when I wished it. And I got far more out of the bargain than that. If there were no wedding . . . I could no longer expect anything from her.
The same part of me that wanted to tell her about my uncle yelled at me that it didn’t have to be that way. I enjoyed her company. She seemed to enjoy mine. The wedding being cancelled didn’t have to matter. There didn’t have to be a reason beyond the way I felt for calling her and sinking into her in my bed. It didn’t have to be an arrangement.
I could take her to dinner, fuck her, hold her as she slept, without some favor I was willing to do for her hanging over it all.
My uncle’s voice agreed with the treacherous one inside me, something he’d said to me a number of times over the years.
Life isn’t just one, long transaction. Everything isn’t a business deal, Grant. One day, you’ll see that.
I knew I had to think about all this and not make a snap decision. So I bit back anything that could be dangerous and opted for polite concern. “Cancelling three days before . . . I hope everyone’s all right.”
“They’re fine,” she said, licking her lips. “There’s no emergency or anything. Cheating.”
“Ah.” I wasn’t surprised.
“And . . . they didn’t cancel three days before. I actually found out on Friday.”
That
surprise must have shown on my face, because she barreled ahead. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you Friday, but when we left the restaurant you said you had business, so I thought I’d wait until Saturday and—”
“This is Wednesday.”
“Yes, I ended up calling on Monday instead. I’m sorry for that. But I did leave two messages for you to call me.”
I nodded. “So you did. Neither message said the wedding had been cancelled.” I wasn’t even angry, but something about this bothered me.
“No. I’m sorry. I guess I should have. It just didn’t seem like something to leave in a message.”
A laugh bubbled out of me then. I regretted it immediately, but it was too late to change it. Had she expected me to be upset? Had—she expected more gifts? Didn’t want the fun to end because I knew I didn’t have to take her to a wedding?
“It wasn’t dire news, Sophie. A message would have been fine.”
You’re being an incredible dick
. My voice combined with my uncle’s. Sophie wasn’t like that. So why didn’t she just tell me Friday or Saturday?
She blinked several times and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” I patted her hand. The part of me that didn’t want this to end tried to muffle the other voice inside me—the one that was my father calling me a little bastard who was going to grow up to be just like his mother. That voice drowned out the quieter one who didn’t want this, whatever it was, to end, and gained control of my tongue.
“Well, no need for you to feel obligated now.” I got out of bed, unable to look back at her, and pulled open the drawer where my old, broken-in sweatpants had been folded neatly by one of the housekeepers. It would be easier this way. Clean break. “I’ll go to dinner Friday and tell Hollis that we’ve broken up.”
Her breath caught, and I still couldn’t turn around to look at her.
Yes, I was a dick. A dick who wouldn’t see my life ruined because I let feelings break me down.
Everything had been so wonderful—Grant hadn’t even reacted badly when I shouted his name, like before. He’d pulled me close to him, called me
good girl
, and now this. He was out of the bed, ready to tell Hollis we’d broken up. This, us, was just . . . over.
What did I expect?
“You . . . you don’t have to do that. I don’t . . . I don’t feel obligated, so much, but I can still go to dinner with you. With Hollis. I mean, Grant, I don’t mind.”
He waved a hand as he slipped his blue sweatpants on and pulled a T-shirt from another drawer. “That’s all right, there’s no need.”
No need
. I took a few deep breaths. I was
not
going to cry.
“I just feel badly, Sophie, everything you did for me . . . and now I can’t repay you by taking you to this wedding. How can I make it up to you?” Grant still hadn’t turned around, but rifled around in a drawer.
“Make it up to me? Are you kidding? Even without considering the gifts, the elegant restaurants . . . you introduced me to Hollis and pretty much single-handedly launched my career. I’m the one who can never repay you. Though as a start, I’ll send back the dresses and jewelry, of course.”
“No.” Grant finally turned, frowning. “Those were gifts. I wanted you to have them. You keep them.”
“But the dress for the wedding. It’s so extravagant, and expensive.”
Grant smiled, but it looked sad. “There will be other weddings. Wear it to one of those. You’ll look stunning.”
I sighed. “I really don’t mind going to dinner. It feels so one-sided, that you’ve done so much for me.”
“One-sided? Oh, no. It’s not. You’ve helped me in many ways, Sophie. But especially today.” Grant reached out and tucked hair behind my ear with his fingertip. “It’s not one-sided, I promise.”
He looked down at me, his jaw moving as if he were about to say something. Then the muscles clenched, and the soft look left his eyes. “You should get dressed, and I’ll call for a driver.”
I got up and started pulling my clothes on.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“I can take a cab,” I said, my voice tight.
“Nonsense.” Grant thumbed his phone. “Have the car brought around front to take Ms. Falcon home.”
I smoothed down my hair, and wiped my face, and saw the ring shining on my finger. With a deep breath, I slid it off and held it out to Grant.
“No.” He shook his head, his frown deepening. “Put it back on, it’s all right. Or sell it, if you’d like.”
“I couldn’t do that. You’ve given me too much already.”
He waved me off. “What am I going to do with it?”
“I can’t keep it, Grant. It’s an engagement ring. I wouldn’t feel right.”
“You should wear it anyway. It looks beautiful on your hand.”
I exhaled slowly. “Grant, please take it. I . . . it’s gorgeous, but it’s too big, too flashy for me. For a fake engagement to a wealthy man, it’s perfect. But I prefer something simpler anyway. Please.” I finally grabbed his hand and pressed the ring into his palm.
He stared at it a moment, then closed his fist around it with a nod. “If you wish. The car should be waiting for you. Is there . . . anything else I can do for you, Sophie?”
Don’t send me away like this? Don’t end it?
I’m not sure where I got the courage, the boldness to say something that I knew could draw a laugh that would sting far worse than any slap Grant had leveled on my behind. But I stepped up to him, and braced myself for the worst.
“No, there’s nothing I can think of. As I said, you’ve done so much for me already. I’m grateful. And . . . I wish it didn’t have to end. Not . . . you doing things for me. That came out wrong. I mean, I hope . . . I want to know . . . is this it? Now that there’s no wedding, you won’t call me again? Because, Grant, I really don’t want it to be that way.”
Grant put his hands on my shoulders, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say that he didn’t either. I let myself have that hope. The longer he looked at me, a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite decipher, the more I thought he was going to say something I longed to hear.
His eyes went cold, and the Grant I’d spent the morning with disappeared. Businessman Grant stood in front of me. “From the very beginning, I told you I didn’t do romance.” He squeezed my shoulders, pressed a peck of a kiss to my forehead, and turned away. “But it was fun. Goodbye, Sophie.”
I straightened my spine and walked toward the bedroom door, as disappointed as I was hurt. And then I spun back to him. His eyes were on me already. “Grant, there is something you can do for me. You can answer one question honestly.”
“I’ve never lied to you.”
He was proud of his ability to tell the truth without really doing so, never quite lying. So I needed to know what he would say to this now. “Do you care about me at all?”
Grant’s head lifted, making him seem surprised by the question. Too fast, he said, “You’re a very special woman, Sophie.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I shouldn’t have asked, because there was no part of me prepared for the possibility that he would say no. And if he were pinned down to the truth, he just might say it.
One corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile. “It’s not, is it?” His eyes narrowed. “What do
you
think?”
I’d already gone this far. Now I wanted to know. “Just answer the question, Grant. Do you care about me at all?”
He didn’t answer quickly. He almost looked like he was chewing gum for a moment, maybe rolling possible answers around on his tongue? Finally, he closed his eyes for a moment, then caught me with his gaze.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
I nodded. That was it. Non-answers and more questions were all I was going to get. He hadn’t said no, but this was his way of not saying the truth. Perhaps he was trying to spare me. He had never bothered with that before, but maybe he sensed that truth would be cruel, and because he was grateful that I’d gone to his uncle’s funeral, he was being kind.
“Goodbye, Grant.”
The urge to run once I left the bedroom made me feel like a petulant child. I managed to walk, with as much dignity as I could muster, to the car that waited for me. I forced myself to make small talk with the driver, a friendly man named Hugh, and I smiled and laughed and charmed him and made him think I wasn’t about to fall apart.
I faked my way through it. I didn’t tell the truth without actually lying.
Grant had taught me so much.
I didn’t cry until I hurried into my bedroom and caught the blip of green on my dresser. I picked up the emerald, a pendant I would have loved just as much if it had been green glass, and decided then and there I would box up everything and send it back. Even that necklace.
Not out of spite, but because I didn’t know how long it would take before I could even look at any of it without tears.
I took the black pearls off and replaced them with the emerald necklace, to wear it one last time since I was already crying anyway.