One Night with a Billionaire

That could be trouble. Time to be ruthless. “Kylie,” he said in a low voice. “You need to find someplace quiet for us to talk—”

“No, I don’t!”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going into that next room and telling everyone that we got drunk together and ended up married. And then I’ll leave and let you sort through the fallout.”

Her jaw dropped. She cast another furtive look around, then tucked the makeup case under her arm and grabbed his sleeve with her free hand. “Come with me.”

Fine with him. As long as he got some answers.

Kylie smiled nervously at the guards and pulled her hand from his sleeve long enough to flash her badge, and then continued dragging him down the empty hall. She walked a hundred feet or so, not saying a thing, and then moved to an unlabeled door to their right. She turned the knob and opened it, and then flicked the light on and gestured for him to follow her in.

He did, and as they stepped inside, he realized it was a janitorial closet. Mops and brooms leaned in one corner, and there was a shelving unit full of different types of cleaners. Buckets were stacked neatly on the bottom shelf.

She shut the door behind them and clicked the lock, then turned back to glare at him, the makeup case still clutched against her chest like a shield. “What are you doing here, Cade?” The look on her face was guilty. “Daphne won’t be offstage for at least an hour.”

He clamped down his frustration. “We both know I’m here to see you, not Daphne.”

“Well, I don’t want to see you! I want you to leave me alone.”

“Is that why you left in the middle of sex, then? Because I seem to recall rubbing my fingers between your legs and finding you soaked with need for me.”

Her cheeks colored and she averted her gaze. “That wasn’t desire.”

Oh really? “What was it then?”

She lifted her chin. “It was a mistake.”

Cade’s tenuous control broke. “A mistake,” he repeated flatly. “Is that so?”

Her eyes went wide and she nodded.

He took a dangerous step forward, and he noticed she pressed her back against the wall. His eyes narrowed at that. What did she think he was going to do? Then again, her color was high in her cheeks . . . what did she want him to do? “A mistake,” he said again, just to emphasize it. And he took the case of makeup from her hands and set it on top of a nearby shelf. He wanted her hands free. Cade turned back to her, and he gave her a cold, dangerous smile. Did she want him to prove her wrong? Because he would.

So he moved forward, moving so close to her that her breasts—God, those big, beautiful breasts—brushed up against the buttons of his shirt. Her eyes were wide as he cornered her against the wall, and he leaned in.

“This mistake,” he murmured. “You were wet for me, and it was a mistake?”

He watched her tongue dart out and she nervously licked her lips. She didn’t speak. He wondered if she could, or if her senses were as overwhelmed as his felt.

“Your pussy was dripping with juice,” he murmured in a husky voice, leaning in so close that his nose rubbed lightly against her own, as if he were about to kiss her. “Clenching deep inside with the need for my cock, I bet.”

Her lips parted, and he could feel her breathing speed up. Her nipples pushed against his shirt as she panted, and he was overcome with the urge to touch her. Cade’s hand went to her knee and he began to hike up that fluffy, flirty skirt of hers.

“Because,” he murmured, and his lips grazed against her own, “I seem to remember how you reached for my cock, as if you couldn’t stand not to touch me.”

A soft whimper escaped her throat.

“Your fingers wrapped around the head and slicked in my cum. Do you remember that, Kylie? Did you taste me on your fingers when you ran away?”

Her gaze was rapt on his face, and his hand went higher under her skirt. His other hand braced against the wall over her shoulder, effectively trapping her between him and the wall itself.

Not that she couldn’t leave, of course. One of her hands still rested on the door handle, and all she had to do was open it and step out. The fact that she didn’t told him volumes. The fact that she wasn’t telling him to stop? The fact that her breathing got more excited the higher his hand went under her skirt? It told him that perhaps the lady doth protest too much, as the saying went.

And he wanted to prove it to her. If that meant giving her a wet, raunchy orgasm in a janitor’s closet? So be it.

“So, Kylie,” he murmured, and then sucked on that juicy lower lip, since it was so invitingly close. He could feel the whimper she bit back, and it encouraged him to be a bit bolder. His hand now moved to her inner thigh, and she was silky smooth and soft. His fingers grazed her skin and he continued to tease upward. “If I touch your panties, am I going to find them wet for me?”