Winning the Billionaire (Seattle Bachelors Book 2) (3 page)

Oh, for sure he tormented her on purpose, teased her until she melted to his whim. Sebastian liked to toy, to play games, but her body melted regardless. She sagged back against the counter behind her, two desperate little seconds from begging him to do everything he’d said and then some. “Sebastian, please.”

This time, his mouth paused on her neck. Seconds ticked out, and her body sat poised, waiting for him to make the next move. She couldn’t be certain anymore if she wanted him to stop or continue, but her panties were drenched and her clit throbbed.

Finally, he pinched her left nipple, a delicious combination of pleasure and pain, and pulled back. His eyes blazed at her, the wild look in the depths one part challenge, one part hunger, and one part something she couldn’t quite reach. The hunger left her caught for a moment and stole the breath from her lungs. Sebastian had never looked at her that way before.

Before she could form a more coherent thought, he kissed her again, hard, then released her and shoved her away from him.

“You should go. Because if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to pick you up and carry you back to my bed, and I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name.” He spat the words at her like a threat, pivoted, and stalked away from her.

Christina stumbled back a step. For a moment, she could only blink and watch his progress. Confusion waged a war in her head. In that moment, she knew two things. He could have had her if he’d wanted her. For a long time, she’d yearned for a single night with him. Just one. A fantasy realized. She’d have gladly given in to his whim, for the pleasure she’d have at his hands, and damn the consequences.

Bigger than that, though, he wasn’t himself.

He stopped at the front windows and stood, unmoving, staring out over the city. His shoulders remained stiff, his back straight as a steel rod. Tension radiated off him. As her breathing calmed, a memory floated through her mind. He’d done this before, deliberately pushed her buttons. When Sebastian didn’t want to face something, he could evade like nobody’s business.

Once when they were kids, he’d pushed until she’d become so angry she’d sworn never to speak to him again. She’d never forget it. They were in fifth grade and she’d been working on her class science project when Sebastian had marched up and told her how stupid he thought her idea was. At that moment, she’d vowed never to speak to him again. Later on, she discovered he’d had a fight with his dad over how much time he’d been spending with her and Caden and not on his studies. Caden had suggested that Sebastian had likely taken his mood out on her. Rather than asking for what he needed—support and kindness—he pushed away the people he held closest to him. Sebastian was used to the people he loved leaving him. First his mother, then his father.

Ever since, she always forgave him, because she knew, deep down, Sebastian wasn’t this man. This was his coping mechanism. Besides, he was family. Did he really think she wouldn’t see through him now?

Yes, that’s exactly what happened here. He attempted to evade grief, and he’d lashed out at the first person within reach. Oh, for sure he needed someone, but not in the way he’d stated. She’d call Caden later. Being a Monday morning, he and Hannah were no doubt sitting down to breakfast. They were barely a year into their marriage, still newlyweds, and she hated disturbing them. Not to mention Hannah was six months into her first pregnancy. They’d get enough interruptions when the baby came. For now, Sebastian would have to make do with her, because no way would she leave him alone. Clearly, he’d gone down a dark road.

Decision made, she turned to the counter behind her, picked up her purse, and pulled out her cell phone. Then she dialed her assistant’s cell. Next month’s software release was slightly behind schedule, but she’d have to trust her people to make sure things were getting done. Today, family had to come first. “Hi, Paula. It’s Christina. Would you clear my schedule for today, please? We’ve had a family emergency, and I’m going to need to take the day off. Give my apologies, will you, please?”

“Of course, Miss McKenzie. Is everything all right?” The compassionate worry etching Paula’s tone immediately soothed a frazzled nerve. Paula wasn’t the most capable assistant she’d ever had. She was a bit clumsy and unsure of herself, but she did anything Christina asked with a bright smile. Now Christina was grateful for her sweet nature.

She sighed and glanced at Sebastian, who continued to stare out the living room windows. “I’m afraid we’ve had a death in the family. I’m needed at home.”

Paula gasped. “Oh no. I’m so sorry, ma’am. My condolences to you and your family. I’ll make sure you won’t be disturbed.”

“Thank you, Paula. I’ll try to check in later.”

She hung up her phone and returned it to her to purse. Then she toed off her heels and carried them to the edge of the hallway, where she wouldn’t trip over them. On her return to the kitchen, she came up short. Sebastian now stood in the kitchen entrance, blocking her path, arms crossed and a firm scowl puckering his brow. “What are you doing?”

She stuck her chin out and pulled her shoulders back. That look meant only one thing: He was about to attempt to intimidate her again. “I’m taking care of you, that’s what.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m not a child, Tina.”

Ignoring his clear attempt to push her off, she pivoted and moved around him, heading around the center island toward the fridge. Thankfully, Lupe kept it well stocked. What Sebastian needed was a friend and a full stomach. In her experience, men were simple creatures. She’d learned by growing up with Caden and her father that the way to tame a riled male usually started with a good meal, so she’d start by making Sebastian breakfast.

She pulled open the refrigerator door and peered inside, ignoring the gaze burning a hole into the back of her head. “It’s Chris, if you don’t mind, or Christina if you prefer. I’m not ten years old anymore, either, and I know darn well you’re aware of that, because you just had your hands all over the proof. I’m staying. You can grump all you want, but don’t bother attempting to bully me. I’m not one of your employees or one of your groupies. In case you’ve forgotten, I graduated from MIT at the top of my class. That means I’m smart, and I’m used to men like you who think they can push me around. You’re stuck with me for the morning, Sebastian, so deal with it.”

S
ebastian stood at the edge of the kitchen, dumbfounded, watching Christina move about the space like she owned it. His irritation mixed with the lust that still burned through his blood. Before he could utter a word of protest, she pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge, along with shredded cheese and orange juice. The efficiency with which she moved about his kitchen frankly surprised the hell out of him.

He’d been attempting to get her to leave. Of all the days for her to show up, today he actually needed her. He needed her softness, her strength, and God help him, he needed that irritating side of her that insisted on taking care of him. And there she was, making him breakfast. It didn’t help that she looked like she belonged in his kitchen.

He drew a calming breath and chose to focus on the mundane details or he’d be taking her back in his arms. He’d gone and done far too much already this morning. “How the hell do you even know how to cook? Don’t you have servants who do that?”

She’d grown up in a mansion, the same as he had, with servants who did everything for her, including making her meals and cleaning her room. Hell, if he didn’t have Lupe, he’d be eating takeout every night. Yet Christina opened another cabinet, pulled out a large glass bowl and began cracking eggs into it. One-handed.

She tossed a laugh over her shoulder, the sound so light and musical it lit up his insides. In seconds flat, the irritation he’d tried so hard to hold on to flitted from his grasp. He couldn’t get the taste of her out of his brain or forget the way she’d pushed herself into his arms.

Damn it all to hell. He dragged a hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He
shouldn’t
have kissed her. She was Cade’s sister, for crying out loud. That had always made her off-limits. Never mind that he could never give her what she deserved—forever. Christina was important. She and Caden were the only family he had left now. Which meant whatever he felt for her had to be squashed.

Or so he’d always told himself. The problem was, Christina had done what she did best: She’d stood up to him. Damned if her spunk wasn’t the sexiest thing about her and he’d fucking caved to his desires like he had no self-control at all.

All kissing her had accomplished was to take his carefully erected walls, ones meant to keep her where he knew he could never lose her, and obliterated them.

Yet there she was, taking over his kitchen like she belonged in it. She had his head filling with visions. Of
her
, in his house, in his life, on a permanent basis. He wasn’t sure that life was meant for him. Hell, what he’d done to Jean had proven that. But right then? Christ, he wanted it.

“You’re a spoiled brat, Baz. Our cook, Mrs. Humphreys, taught me. You remember her, don’t you? She died a couple of years ago. Growing up, whenever I got bored, I’d go hang out in the kitchen with her.” As she ducked into a low cabinet to pull out a small frying pan—how she’d known Lupe kept the cookware there, he had no idea—she darted a glance over her shoulder. She arched a brow, that motherly look pinning him to his spot. “I’m assuming by your grouchiness that you haven’t eaten this morning? You get crabby when you’re tired or hungry.”

And aroused, which he was. He was hard enough to hammer nails, because he couldn’t forget the luscious press of her nipples against his chest.

His stomach tightened. Christina was a double-edged sword. He loved and hated with equal measure how well she knew him. Despite what he’d told her, he hadn’t been sleeping. He’d been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling since he’d gotten home from his father’s lawyer’s office an hour before. He’d been wishing Christina would show up and do what she did best. Namely, march her way into his apartment and mother hen him to death. Somehow, whenever she did, the care gave him a sense of completeness. It filled a need in his chest he’d been trying to deny for years. The need for a connection, a real connection, to one other person, and not the meaningless flings he’d sworn to himself once satisfied him.

Christina was one of the few people in his life who wasn’t paid to do things like this. He’d grown up with nannies and housekeepers, because his father was usually too busy with the resorts, with his women, to do much more than remind him what a constant disappoint he was. He dated unavailable women on purpose: because at the end of the day, it meant no connections. He’d seen firsthand what marriage and love did to a man. His father hadn’t been the same since his mother walked out on them twenty years ago.

More to the point, Christina did it because she cared, and it called to the deepest part of him. The part of him that had been in love with her since somewhere around college. And here she was, like a damn domestic goddess.

It didn’t help any that she’d chosen one of her pencil skirts this morning. God bless the man who’d developed the pencil skirt. Christina wore them often and she rocked them. This morning’s was simple black. The garment hugged her every blessed curve, outlining the subtle flare of her slender hips and her tight little ass. He wanted to shove that skirt to her waist and sink into her warmth. He wanted to make love to her on the counter where she cracked eggs. Then maybe in the shower or the two-person tub in the master bathroom. Or any combination of all three.

Any other time, he relegated his desire for her to other projects. In work. In running. Hell, in other women. This morning, his emotions were raw, all of them on the surface and uncontrollable. He was mad as hell, but the grief was crushing him. His father was the only family he had. His mother’s loss was a wound in his chest that would never heal. He had good and bad memories of her. The smell of her perfume when she hugged him good night. The sound of her laughter, the rare times he’d actually heard her laugh. He also remembered the pain in her eyes and the seemingly constant anger between her and his father. Now he’d lost the only parent remaining, leaving him well and truly alone.

Of all days for Christina to show up, it had to be today. He flat out didn’t have the strength to resist her. For a second there, he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to stop himself from taking her right in the goddamn kitchen, and all because she’d melted beneath the force of his kiss.

He stifled a miserable groan. Fuck, he hadn’t expected that. He’d expected her to slap him and walk out. Hell, he’d have deserved it. Treating her like that was the asshole thing to do for sure, but if he didn’t, he’d cave. Again.

“I’ll take your silence to mean you haven’t eaten yet.” Christina glanced at him again. Now busy whisking the eggs, she scowled at him and dumped them into the heated pan, filling the silence with the sound of sizzling. Then she set the bowl into the sink and pointed at the breakfast bar. “Sit.”

He glared at her but refused to budge. Damn it. She was the only one, the only woman who got to him, who made him want to confess his every damn secret. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

God help him, she was sexy doing that, too. She often stuck her nose in where nobody asked her to, but she always did so with good intentions. She had one of the biggest hearts of any woman he’d ever known.

“I’m not hungry. I’m going for a run.” He hated being rude to her. She didn’t deserve it. But if he didn’t get out of the house and now, he’d be crossing the kitchen and taking her back in his arms. The way she’d responded to him had stoked the flame in his gut to a full-body burn.

She was too important. If he did any of that, he’d lose her, and if he ever lost her…The thought made his gut ache. So he pivoted and strode toward his bedroom in search of a shirt and his running shoes. He was too damn tired for a run but too keyed up to sleep. Maybe the exercise would finally wear him out.

Christina shot a worried frown over her shoulder. “You have to eat, Baz.”

“Later.” Sebastian waved a hand behind him, rounded the corner, and shut his bedroom door, closing off the sweet sound of her voice. Two minutes later, he was dressed and striding for the front door. He’d have to remember to buy new shoes. His Nikes were getting worn out.

As he passed the kitchen, Christina shot him a puzzled frown. She stood at the sink, wrists deep in suds. “When will you be back?”

Hand on the doorknob, Sebastian halted. He clenched his teeth, determined not to turn around. Did she have any idea how much she looked and sounded like a wife right then? The thought did nothing for the tangled knot in his gut. She was the only woman he could’ve ever seen himself with. He’d decided a long time ago marriage wasn’t for him, but if ever he wanted to settle down, it would be with her.

“About an hour.” He pulled the door open and strode through, letting it fall shut behind him.

Six miles and forty-five minutes later, he was drenched from a mixture of sweat and rain. As usual for early spring in Seattle, the day was dreary and a sudden shower had opened up on him halfway around the city. Now the muscles in his legs had tightened, because he hadn’t stretched before he left, and the endorphins had kicked in, but the run hadn’t done a damn thing for the emotion still tangled in his chest. He was wide awake now, but still as stuck as he’d been an hour ago. His father was still dead, and he still had to figure out how to grieve for a man he didn’t know if he’d liked. A man he was positive hadn’t liked him.

To top it off, he still needed a wife. Of all the stipulations for his father to set. He could still hear the old man’s rant. They’d had the same argument at Christmastime last year.
“It’s time to grow up, Sebastian.”

His only rebellion was his love life. He’d date who he wanted, when he wanted.

Entering his condo, he came to an abrupt halt at the end of the entry hallway. Christina sat at the breakfast bar, her phone in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. She’d hooked her feet on the bottom rung of the stool and crossed one endless leg over the other. Her skirt had risen up, giving him a spectacular view of the length of her sleek, taut thighs.

“I’ll call you back, Paula. Thanks for your help.” She punched a button on her phone and turned to smile at him as she set it on the counter in front of her. “Feel better?”

Did he? For that singular moment in time, her warm smile shot a dose of sunshine straight into his heart. She had eyes the color of the evergreen trees the state was named for, so bright and luminous he forgot why he ought to be irritated with her. He could get lost in those eyes.

If he could only stop staring at her legs. At five foot ten, Christina was tall for a woman, and her legs seemed to go on forever. He couldn’t stop imagining hiking up her skirt, following the length of those legs, and discovering the treasure trove between her luscious thighs. Thinking about it had his cock hardening again. She was so damned beautiful when she smiled at him. He could almost imagine he could have her.

Shit. Apparently he’d be taking a cold shower this morning.

He shot her a scowl as he strode past her, heading for his bedroom. “No. There’s an annoying brunette in my kitchen who won’t take a hint.”

As he passed, her bright smile dropped from her face. “I’m just trying to help, Baz.”

Regret tightened in his chest.
Good going. Prove to her yet again that you’re just an asshole.

He paused halfway to his bedroom, caught in indecision, his gut twisting itself into knots. He loathed hurting her, but if he stopped, he was dead. If he turned around, she’d get one hell of a view. He had a tent for crying out loud.

“I need a shower.” He muttered the words, then strode for his bedroom, ripping off his clothing and scattering the floor with it on his way to the connected bathroom.

In the shower five minutes later, he turned the water to the coldest he could stand, but Christina’s kiss refused to leave his mind and the longer he stood beneath the water, the harder he became. He couldn’t forget the heady flavor of her mouth or the softness of her tongue stroking his. Christ, he had a weakness for tongue kissing, and Christina had it down to a science. The way she’d stroked the insides of his mouth made his cock twitch.

Still impossibly hard, Sebastian banged his head against the cool shower wall and gave in to the need. He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered his hands, then fisted his cock. He needed to ease the ache or he’d be hard all day. Thoughts of Christina wrapped around him like a lure, and he let himself get lost in them. The taste of her hot breath mingling with his. Her lush tits pushing into his chest, her nipples diamond hard. He yearned to know the delicious friction of them rubbing his bare skin as he pounded into her.

Mouth hanging open, breaths coming harsh and ragged, he rocked his hips into his hand. The sweet friction was delicious but not enough. Christina had roused his desire like no other woman could, and he ached for her and her alone. So he closed his eyes and envisioned burying himself deep inside of her. Her long legs wrapped around his hips. Her wet heat milking him for all he had.

The sound of her moaning his name an hour earlier filled his head, and his orgasm rushed up on him, blinding and hot. He held his breath to keep her name from leaving his lips on a desperate groan.

When he emerged from his bedroom forty minutes later, Christina waited for him in the hallway. She leaned against the wall beside his door, arms folded—which did nothing but push her breasts higher.

Sebastian stopped short, his heart hammering. “How long have you been standing there?”

More to the point, had she heard him in the shower?

“Long enough to know you take really long showers.” Her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at him. “You have to be the most infuriating man I’ve ever known, do you know that? I’m not leaving until I know you’ll be okay, because like it or not, I care about you. Caden will be here at noon. Until then, you’re stuck with me.”

She grabbed him by the wrist, pivoted, and marched into the kitchen. Too surprised and aroused by her outburst to argue, he could only manage to follow the sashay of her ass. Yeah, he loved this side of her. She wasn’t afraid of him, wasn’t afraid to push back.

Once in the kitchen, she released him and pointed a stern finger at the stool. “Now sit down and eat or so help me God I’ll tie you to a chair in the dining room.”