The Rebel Billionaire (Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires Book 5) Page 5

  Triumph surged through me at the flash of disappointment in Lucas's eyes.

  Before he could move away, I said, "The only thing I really regret from last night is that I had too much to drink and ended up sleeping alone."

  "You're not drunk now," Lucas said.

  "No, I'm not."

  Anticipation fizzed in my stomach. I was standing on the edge of a cliff, one foot hovering in midair, just about to fall over the edge. The feeling faded when Lucas crossed his arms back over his chest and shook his head.

  "This is a bad idea," he said. "We're neighbors. And you're not my type."

  "Not your type as in not the kind of woman you usually fuck? Or not your type as in you're not attracted to me?" I asked, raising my chin.

  It's hard to look down your nose at someone almost a foot taller, but I did my best. Lucas laughed, the sound a low rumble in his chest that turned me on despite my irritation.

  "Oh, I'm attracted," he said. "I thought that was obvious. But you don't strike me as the kind of woman who says fuck, much less does it with a guy she just met, Princess."

  "Don't call me Princess," I shot back. "You don't know anything about me. You know about my family, you know my resume, but you don't know me. For your information, I say fuck all the time. And no, I don't usually sleep with men I've just met. I was interested in making an exception for you, but if you're going to be an ass about it, then never mind—"

  I was working up a good head of steam when Lucas reached out, closed his big hand over my wrist, and tugged. Off-balance, I fell into his arms, too surprised to continue my tirade.

  This time, he kissed me.

  Kissing Lucas Jackson was even better sober.

  His lips were soft and full against mine, but his kiss was hard. The way he used his mouth was all about possession and control.

  The contrast made my head spin. I closed my hands over those strong shoulders and held on for dear life, kissing him back with everything I had. He tasted of coffee and something indefinably male that was just Lucas.

  His hands skimmed down my back, closing over my ass and lifting me as he turned and pressed me to the wall, pinning me with his hips. I wrapped my legs around his waist, arching into him.

  I forgot all of my uncertainty, forgot that I needed a shower and that I didn't think he liked my haircut. None of that mattered.

  The only thing I cared about was Lucas's body against mine, the thrust of his erection pinned between us, his hands on my ass, my breasts pressing against his chest, and his mouth moving on mine over and over.

  I wanted more. I dropped my hands from his shoulders, sliding them to his waist until I found the hem of his T-shirt. His skin beneath was warm and smooth.

  That was what I wanted. His skin against mine.

  I ran my hands up his chest, lingering over every groove of muscle, scraping my fingertips over his nipples as I pulled the fabric up and out of the way.

  Lucas let out a groan and stepped back, setting me on my feet. His voice was rough when he said, "I don't have a condom. Do you?"

  I shook my head. Shit. Clearly, I was unprepared for this spur of the moment affair with the neighbor thing. I must have looked as disappointed as I felt because Lucas dropped his head and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

  "I'll be back in a few hours with pizza," he said. "And condoms."

  "Sounds like a plan," I said, surprised by the husky undertone to my voice. Was that me? I sounded different, aroused and awake in an entirely new way. I liked it.

  "I'm keeping your key," Lucas said. "Lock the door behind me." A second later, he was gone.

  Distracted, I did as he'd ordered, flipping the deadbolt on the kitchen door as I watched him hop the fence between our backyards.

  I might have stood there for a while, staring after him with kiss-swollen lips and a silly smile on my face, if the doorbell hadn't rung.

  I hurried to the front of the house and saw a van with the logo of the futon company in my driveway. Knowing Lucas would be back for dinner armed with pizza and condoms, splurging on the futon didn't seem quite so reckless.

  I had plans for that futon.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LUCAS

  This time, I didn't jump the fence. I had my hands full with an extra-large pizza, a six-pack of beer, and a brown paper bag hiding a box of condoms.

  No flowers. No bottle of wine.

  That's not what this was. If Charlotte was looking for a date, she was out of luck. I wasn't that kind of guy.

  I'd thought about trying for romance, but I tossed that idea out before it could fully form. Flowers and wine were asking for trouble. If we were going to do this thing, we weren't going to dress it up as something else.

  I knocked on the back door and waited. As much as it was going to kill me to do it, we were going to have to talk first.

  I was fully aware that the outcome of that talk could be me, with a painful set of blue balls, and Charlotte, swearing she'd never speak to me again.

  I hated that idea. My cock was definitely not in favor.

  Sleeping with my neighbor was already a bad idea. Going into it without setting some ground rules would be a disaster.

  I hadn't gotten to where I was in life by listening to my cock. I caught a flash of movement on the other side of the door just before I heard the lock turn. Again, I shook my head at the state of her house.

  Aside from the fact that it looked like it might fall down around her ears, it wasn't safe. I could kick the door in without breaking a sweat and the locks on the windows were a joke.

  Not my business, I reminded myself.

  This was what happened when you saw too much of the dark side of life. You imagined danger around every corner. Charlotte didn't like it when I called her Princess, but I knew where she'd grown up. She had no idea what was out there.

  The door swung open. The sight of her was a punch to the gut.

  She'd taken a shower since I'd left, and her new haircut had dried in a mess of waves and loose curls that made her look years younger than the woman I'd first seen when she bought the house.

  With her hair short, her ocean blue eyes were huge in her face, her cheekbones more defined. That pink mouth was a flower against all her creamy skin.

  Fuck, she was beautiful.

  Before, in her suits and with her hair in a bun, she'd been cold and unapproachable. A statue of a woman. Beautiful but untouchable.

  The woman standing before me needed to be touched. Deserved it.

  I'd told her the new haircut was fine. I'd known it was wrong the second the word left my mouth. I hadn't needed to see the disappointment in her eyes.

  You never told a woman her new haircut was fine. Even if you hated it, you lied and said it looked great. But Charlotte had looked so different—younger, happier, and so fucking sexy.

  I'd been struck speechless.

  All I could see were those big blue eyes and that lush pink mouth.

  Fuck.

  She stepped back to let me in the kitchen and I realized I was staring again. "Hungry?" I asked.

  "Starving," she said, closing and locking the door behind me.

  She wore a faded pair of cut-offs and a cotton T-shirt. No bra. My mouth watered at the visible points of her nipples and the shift of her breasts beneath the thin fabric.

  "I don't have a table or anything," she started to say.

  I set the pizza box on top of the mini-fridge, bending to stow the six-pack inside, and straightened.

  "That's okay, I'm not picky. But we have to talk."

  She crossed her arms over her chest and raised one eyebrow. "What are we talking about?"

  Charlotte Winters was feisty. I shouldn't have liked it. It should have been annoying. Feisty women were work. Not my style.

  But I did like it.

  I liked the way she didn't let me steamroll her. I liked the way she matched me, the way she wasn't afraid of me. Let's face it, I'm a big guy. Most people get a good look at me and exerci
se a healthy sense of caution.

  They should. Between my career in the military and the things I'd done since then, I was a dangerous guy. When Charlotte looked at me, she saw something else.

  Whatever it was she saw, I didn't want her to look away.

  "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Princess," I said, crossing my own arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow back at her.

  To my surprise, she laughed and said, "I'm not wearing any panties."

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight.

  Fuck.

  We had to talk. Then, I'd find out if she was telling the truth about what she had on under those cut-offs.

  My eyes on the ceiling, I said, "We need to lay some ground rules, that's all. I'm not planning on selling my house anytime soon, so we're going to be stuck with each other. I don't want things to be weird when this runs its course."

  She surprised me again. "It's probably going to be weird for a while," she said with a shrug. "But we'll deal. Neither of us is looking for a relationship, right? Just sex."

  "Basically, yeah," I said carefully, looking for the trap.

  There had to be a trap. I'd never had a woman agree to casual sex so easily. "We have nothing in common, and even if we did, I'm not looking for a girlfriend. But I want you."

  "Good," she said. "I've got enough going on in my life right now. I don't want to date. I don't even want friends with benefits. I just want the benefits."

  "Works for me," I said.

  I stalked toward her, crossing the room in two long steps. Charlotte's eyes flared, and she took a half-step back before holding her ground and reaching for me.

  God damn, I liked this girl.

  No, I didn't like her. I wanted to fuck her.

  I can't remember the last time I wanted to fuck a woman this badly. It didn't matter. I was done with waiting. It was time.

  The second I was close enough, Charlotte grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the kitchen and down the hall. I followed, already imagining where I was going to start with her.

  Two kisses. We'd shared two kisses, and I was half-desperate for her.

  Having an affair with my neighbor was stupid. Hooking up with Charlotte Winters, the crown princess of the Winters clan, was insanity.

  I was a logical guy. You didn't stay alive in my business if you acted on impulse. I thought things through. I was careful. Measured. I weighed my options, and I was always, always smart.

  So what the fuck was I doing?

  Mesmerized by the sway of Charlotte's ass in those worn cutoffs, I didn't bother to answer my own question. I knew exactly what I was doing, and for the first time, I didn't care if it was stupid.

  I didn't care if I was going to regret it. All I cared about was stripping her naked and fucking her until we both got this out of our systems.

  She pulled me into the room at the end of the hall, the one just past the bathroom. There wasn't much in there aside from a duffel bag on the floor and a futon folded out into a bed.

  Jackpot.

  I'd been more than willing to take Charlotte on her sleeping bag on the hard wooden floor. I could get creative, and a little discomfort wasn't going to stop me. But I could work with the futon.

  Tossing the paper bag holding the box of condoms onto the futon, I pulled my hand from hers and turned to face her. Her eyes caught mine, wide, blue, and torn between desire and alarm.

  She tucked her hands in her back pockets and looked away, clearing her throat.

  "I don't do this—"

  I pressed my index finger to the pink curve of her lower lip, stopping her words. "I know you don't, Charlotte," I said.

  And I did know it. I don't know how or why I was so certain that inviting me to her bed was completely out of character for Charlotte Winters.

  I'd grown up thinking rich girls like her didn't have to worry about keeping their legs together. She had the world at her feet. She didn't need to care about things like good behavior.

  Except everything I'd seen of Charlotte so far told me she didn't cut loose very often. I couldn't imagine her picking up some random guy at a bar and bringing him home to fuck.

  So why me? How did I get so lucky? I wasn't going to waste any more time wondering.

  I didn't want to, but I had to ask, "Do you want to call this off?"

  I rubbed the tip of my finger along the curve of her full lip, my gut tight at the thought that she might send me away. Silent, Charlotte shook her head.

  Those petal pink lips parted and her tongue darted out to flick over my finger before she sucked the tip inside. My cock went rock hard in a heartbeat.

  Holy fucking God. This woman was going to kill me.

  She nipped my finger, just a pinch of pain, and soothed it with her tongue before she stepped back and said, "I don't want to call this off. But you're going to have to be patient with me. It's been a while and I'm not sure I remember how to do this."

  "How long?" I asked.

  Charlotte made a face.

  "A while," she repeated. I traced my finger across her collarbone, savoring the silky skin revealed by the loose neckline of her thin T-shirt. She leaned into my hand as I slid my fingers up her neck to bury them in her hair, cupping the back of her head.

  "Just in case you forgot," I said, tilting her face to mine, "it usually starts like this."

  I planned to kiss her slowly, to seduce her with my mouth and my hands, to chase away all of her doubts. The second our lips touched, slow went out the window.

  Her mouth opened to mine, her breath hitching in her chest as my tongue stroked her lips. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to absorb her. Her hands snaked under my shirt, fingers splayed over my back, arms pulling me into her body.

  Too many clothes. I wanted her skin bared to me. I wanted to see everything.

  Dragging my mouth from hers was a struggle. I could kiss this woman all day. Stepping back, I tugged my shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor.

  Hers was next. Obedient, for once, she lifted her arms for me and let me strip off her shirt. Bare to the waist, she was so perfect my mouth watered for a taste of her.

  Her breasts weren't big, not more than a handful, capped with tight pink nipples the exact shade of her lips. Was her pussy the same? I had to know.

  Nodding to her cutoffs, I said, "Drop them."

  Her cheeks flushed, but she unfastened the button and slowly lowered the zipper. With a shimmy of her hips that I felt in my cock, she shoved the denim shorts down her legs.

  "Liar," I said, my eyes locked on the tiny lace thong hiding her pussy.

  She shrugged.

  "Now you," she said, her gaze locked on the tent of my hard cock in my jeans.

  I had them on the floor beside her shorts in a second. Closing my hands around her waist, I lifted her off her feet, grinning at her gasp of surprise.

  Tossing her on the futon, I pulled her to the edge and knelt between her legs.

  "I thought you were a good girl, Charlotte. But good girls don't lie."

  "I am a good girl," she protested.

  "Then what's this?" I asked, sliding my finger beneath the lace of her thong and dragging it down from the edge of her hipbone to just above her pussy.

  Her breath caught in her chest, and she let out a whimper.

  "Don't you wish you'd been telling the truth?" I asked, tugging at the lace thong.

  Charlotte nodded, reaching down to slide the thong over her hips. Grabbing her hands, I stopped her.

  "Nope. Keep those there. Liars get punished."

  "What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice thin and strained.

  "Exactly what I was going to do when I thought you were naked under those cutoffs. Only now, this will be in the way."

  To illustrate, I leaned down and licked her through the lace.

  Charlotte let out a long moan, her thighs trembling on either side of my shoulders. Holding her hands in mine to keep them still, I licked again, tasting her through the lace.

  She'd
showered, but she still smelled of woman, musky and sweet.

  "Lift your legs," I said, nudging her thigh with one shoulder.

  She raised them, bracing her feet on my arms. Fucking perfect. Spread like that, the thong hid nothing.

  Now I was the liar. Eating her through the thong wasn't a punishment. The lace was so thin it was barely there, almost transparent now that it was soaked from my mouth and her own arousal.

  I circled my tongue around her clit, and she shivered at the scrape of the lace combined with the heat of my mouth.

  Moving lower, I nudged aside the narrow strip of fabric over her entrance and dove in.

  Hot and sweet and so, so slick. I had to get my cock inside her. Right after she came on my face. I needed to hear Charlotte come for me. I had to feel it with my lips before I felt it again on my cock.

  Squeezing my hands on hers, my chest gave an odd jolt when she twined her fingers through mine and held on tight, tilting her hips to my mouth and whispering, "Lucas. Please."

  My restraint broke.

  I gave her everything I had, sucking her clit through the lace until she squirmed and gasped, licking her under and through the fabric, and fucking her with my tongue until she was on the edge of orgasm before I released her hands, tore off the thong, and sucked her clit. Hard.

  Charlotte buried her hands in my hair, holding me to her as she came, calling my name on a long moan that was so hot I was on the edge of coming myself.

  God damn, it was like being a teenager again. I hate to admit that, as much as I wanted to feel her come on my cock, I wasn't sure I'd last that long.

  Climbing up on the futon, I looked down at Charlotte, her eyes half-closed, a smile on her pink lips. She spread her legs to make room for me and pulled me down on top of her. The silky heat of her skin on mine was heaven. My eyes locked to hers, I reached out, fumbling for the bag with the condoms.

  I had to get inside her. Now.

  "So that was my punishment? I'll have to try being bad again," she said, sounding so satisfied with herself I didn't think before I answered.

  "Only with me."

  My fingers touched the paper bag and I hid my face from hers as I tore at the packaging.