The Billionaire Boyfriend Proposal: A Kavanagh Family Novel (7 page)

"There's still more work to do down there,"
Blake said. "But I don't want to leave you in the house on your
own."

"I can help," I said. "What needs doing?"

"It looks pretty nice to me," Robbie said
with a shrug.

"It could do with a coat of paint on the
walls," Blake said. "Some of the boards are rotten and need
replacing, and I thought I could connect the water and electricity
to the main supply. That way he can use the little kitchenette. Of
course, the sink is rusty and will need replacing and you don't
even want to know what's in the cupboards."

I regarded him over my pizza slice. "Uh,
Blake, that sounds like a lot of work."

He shrugged. "I don't mind."

"You know I can't pay you."

"You seem to be forgetting that my brother
owns this place now." He frowned at me. "Were you paying for
repairs or was Lyle?"

I concentrated on my pizza, but he knew what
my silence meant. Of course I'd paid for repairs. Lyle didn't care
about the house. If I didn't want the roof to leak, I had to
organize a roofer. If a pipe burst, I got a plumber in to fix it
and never bothered Lyle with the invoice. There was just no
point.

"You'd better get it squared off with Reece
first," I told him.

"He'll be okay."

"You don't know until you ask him."

"He's a bazillionaire, remember? Don't worry
about Reece's reaction. He'll pay for it and he'll be happy about
it. Cleo has changed him."

I nodded slowly. Cleo
had
changed
Reece. It was a minor miracle. Actually it was a major one. Just as
long as he didn't revert back to his old ways once the first glow
of new love wore off. "You're right. Best to get in now while the
going's good."

He frowned at me. "That's not what I
meant."

"Come on," Robbie said. "Come down and have a
look at what Blake did while we were in class." He stood and picked
up the pizza box with two slices still in it and led the way to the
summer house, munching the whole way.

The place already looked a thousand times
better. Gone was the clutter and the broken furniture from the
Seventies. What was left was still old, but at least the bed
wouldn't give out as soon as Robbie lay on it. The little cottage
had potential. Blake outlined his ideas in more detail as we walked
from room to room. They were good ideas, but lacked a feminine
touch and artistic flare. It was all neutrals and blandness.

"When it comes to picking new curtains, I
want to see the samples," I said. "Same goes for paint colors."

Blake lowered his lashes and I got a tingling
sensation over my skin as he watched me. "I'll be sure to consult
you on everything."

It was difficult to gauge how he felt about
me butting in. I guess he wasn't happy to have to consult someone
else, and me of all people. Too bad. I didn't care who owned the
property. The house was a West house at heart and always would
be.

We spent the evening on the porch, listening
for intruders. At least, that's what I was doing. Blake and Robbie
were chatting quietly. Mostly Robbie was talking about his brother,
his gang and the mother who abandoned him when he was fifteen.
Skull had already spent twelve months in jail for theft, getting
off lightly because it hadn't been aggravated and there were no
weapons involved.

Robbie asked Blake questions about his time
in the army, but Blake's answers were brief and gave nothing away.
I tried to pretend I wasn't interested, but I couldn't deny the way
I stopped breathing every time Robbie asked something, and started
again every time Blake brushed him off.

Finally Robbie said goodnight. We watched him
disappear across the lawn, his flashlight bobbing like a firefly in
time with his steps. It was just Blake and me now.

"I thought he'd never leave," he said,
getting up. He sat down beside me on the swing chair.

Oh crap. What did he want? Was he going to
kiss me?

Did I have enough resilience to say no?

To my horror, he began gripping his T-shirt
at his shoulder blades. Next thing I knew, he was drawing it off
over his head. He sat there, semi-naked, in all his muscled glory
looking like a buzz cut version of Hercules.

How was a girl supposed to
not
sink
her teeth into shoulders like those?

CHAPTER 5

"Cassie?" Blake glanced at me over his
shoulder. "Can you take a look?"

Oh yeah, I was looking. I couldn't stop.
Every small movement caused the straps of muscles in his back to
flex and release. It was mesmerizing. I wanted to lay my cheek
against his skin and feel the hard knots and the warmth. Or better
yet, press my lips to his broad back and circle my arms around his
waist.

Somehow I collected myself. "The rules…you
promised…no touching."

"I'm not asking you to touch me, just look."
His eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Ummmm…" Looking was harmless, right? Wrong.
Not when the body I was looking at belonged to Blake.

"Can you see if there's a bruise where Skull
hit me with the club?"

Okay, no problem. I could play nurse. A nurse
who didn't touch. "There's one in the center. Does it hurt?"

"Only when I move a certain way."

"Why didn't you say so before? Jeez, Blake,
we need to get it checked out. You might have a fracture."

"It'll be fine." He went to lean back, but I
stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. Oh yes, his skin
was
warm and smooth too. Big mistake to touch him.

Yet I didn't pull away.

His breath hitched, a loud sound in the dense
silence. "Cass?" My name was a whisper from his lips, a hiss of
air.

"You never used to have these scars." One
curved up over his shoulder while another disappeared into his
jeans near his hip.

"There are a lot of things I never used to
have that I do now."

I traced the thin white line at his shoulder
with the tip of my finger. A ripple passed through him and he
lowered his head. So much for the no touching rule. I couldn't have
stopped even if I'd wanted to. There was just something so
compelling about Blake's body. Something that made this red-blooded
woman
need
to follow that white line.

And the other one, lower. I caressed my hand
down his back to meet the tip of it. "You got them in the
army?"

He nodded.

"What was it like?"

He shook his head. "You don't want to
know."

"I do."
I want to know everything about
you. The missing years, the friends you made and lost, the ways in
which it affected you. And why you came back.

I told him none of those things. It would
only open up a can of worms that couldn't be closed again. I wasn't
prepared for that. I never would be.

But that didn't mean I could stop touching
him. My hands seemed to have a will of their own. My head screamed
Danger!
but my body responded with
I don't care
.

I slipped my fingers beneath the band of his
jeans, following that scar like a junkie chasing her next hit.
Blake groaned low. I could feel it vibrating through his body and
into mine. I paused, spooked by the reaction.

"Don't stop," he whispered, tipping his head
to the side to look at me. His eyes turned smoky, fathomless, and I
tumbled into their depths. I was completely, utterly lost in them.
In him.

I leaned in, pressing my breasts into his
back, and kissed his shoulder. He tasted of the Blake I remembered.
The wonderful, gentle, funny Blake Kavanagh I'd been in love with
half my life. The one who'd left me. The one who didn't love me
enough to be on my side.

I was going to get my heart broken again
after tonight. And I didn't care. I couldn't think beyond the
night, the next hour, the next moment. I could only think of the
here and now, my lips against his skin.

"Kiss me," I said.

He hesitated. "You sure?"

I shook my head, then leaned over his
shoulder and kissed him. The longer we waited, the more chance
there was I'd change my mind. I didn't want that.

I wanted him.

He shifted and drew me into his lap without
breaking the kiss. He circled his arms around me and held me like
he was afraid I'd get up and walk away. He dug one hand into my
hair, the other stayed at my back, under my shirt, exploring my
skin as I'd explored his.

His kiss became urgent, fierce, then, as if
he'd told himself to slow down, he eased off and returned to the
tender hesitancy that I remembered from our first fumbling kisses
of so many years ago. The memory brought an ache to my chest and
tears to my eyes. But I did not break the kiss. Doing so would be
like ripping off a Band-aid.

He cupped my cheek and kissed my jaw, my
chin, my throat, and that place near my ear that tickled. I tipped
my head back, thrusting out my breasts. He quickly undid the top
two buttons on my shirt and pressed his hot lips to the swell of my
breast.

"God, Cassie," he murmured. "I've missed
this. Missed you."

I cradled his head and stroked his hair. My
skin felt like it was on fire and my heart raced. Surely he must be
able to feel it pounding against his lips. His hands swept up under
my shirt and cupped my breasts. His thumbs dipped inside my bra and
grazed the nipples.

I groaned. My blood heated, skin tightened.
The sensations swamping me were as familiar and overpowering as
ever. It had never been any other way with Blake. My body had
always responded to his touch and it returned to that zone with an
ease that probably should have freaked me out.

But I was too caught up to care. All I knew
was that I had Blake Kavanagh in my arms and he was going to make
love to me. For eight years I'd dreamed about exactly this when I
slept, and forced myself not to think about it when awake. I never
once dreamed or thought about afterward, and nor would I now.
Later, yes, but now was for skin on skin and the heady feeling of
being the center of Blake Kavanagh's world again.

Slowly, he drew down my bra cups and exposed
my breasts to his mouth, his hands. The air was cool but he was
warm. My nipples pebbled and tingled beneath his attention. I
arched into him, offering myself, and moaned.

He drew away. "Upstairs," he rasped.
"Bedroom." He picked me up and carried me inside. "Don't want to be
disturbed."

I felt like a feather in his arms as he
carried me up the stairs and into my bedroom. It was the same room
I'd always had and Blake knew exactly where it was. He gently lay
me on the bed then not so gently undid the rest of my shirt
buttons. He fumbled with my belt and drew my jeans down. I wasn't
wearing any shoes and I flicked my jeans onto the floor.

I sat up and removed my shirt and bra, then
lay flat again in just my underwear. Blake's eyes flared. His gaze
roamed over my length, taking in every inch, every freckle as if
he'd never seen them before.

"You're more beautiful than ever," he said
softly. "Eight years ago, I wouldn't have thought that
possible."

The problem with red hair and pale skin was
that I blushed way too easily. He smiled upon seeing the color
creep up my throat and across my face, as if he were pleased to
have put it there.

"Take off your jeans," I said. "And the
rest."

He removed his boots and jeans, taking out a
silver packet from his pocket. Then he whipped his shorts down. He
stood beside the bed, gloriously naked and not at all ashamed that
I stared. His thighs were powerfully muscled and the scar on his
hip that I'd toyed with earlier stretched down almost to his knee.
The cut must have been deep, the pain excruciating. I would ask him
about it later, but not now.

Now was for admiring. And there was a lot to
admire. Aside from the ridges of abdominal muscle and the long,
athletic legs, there was that cock. It protruded thick and proud
and ready. He slipped on the condom.

I opened my arms for him and he came to me
without hesitation. He drew me against him and we kissed until my
insides turned to mush and my brain switched off. The time for
thinking had passed.

He broke the kiss and I groaned in
disappointment at the loss. The groan became a moan of pleasure as
he pushed up my breast and took as much of it that would fit into
his mouth as he could. His tongue stroked my nipple, circled it,
licked and teased it to an excruciating, achy point.

"Oh God, Blake, that's…" I couldn't finish
the sentence. There were too many sensations exploding through my
body, rendering me dumb. Little ripples of pleasure began shooting
from my nipple to my groin.

I wanted him to touch me down there. I
wriggled out of my panties and flicked them away. I felt him smile
against my breast.

"Can't wait, eh?"

"You're a goddamn tease, Blake Kavanagh."

"
I'm
a tease? Huh. You're driving me
crazy, Cass."

I reached down between us to feel how crazy.
His cock was rock-hard. It throbbed as I wrapped my fingers around
it. He sucked air between his teeth and pressed his forehead
against my breasts. His low groan sounded like he was in pain.

He suddenly shifted his hips and withdrew his
cock from my hand. "Do that and it'll be over too soon. I want this
to last. It's been too long and I want to savor every second."

Too long since the last time he made love? Or
too long since he made love to
me
?

I stopped asking myself stupid questions when
he slipped a finger into me. No preamble, no waiting, just all the
way in. I was so slick, it didn't hurt. I clutched his back and
sank my teeth into his shoulder then licked him there.

"Unfair," I said.

He grinned and removed his finger, only to
slide it back in again. I lifted my hips to meet his hand, pressing
my shoulders into the mattress. The movement made my breasts jiggle
and he took that as an invitation to cover one with his mouth
again.