His Gift (A Dark Billionaire Romance Part 2) Page 5

  I waited and waited, my arousal heightened with every touch of his hands. He rinsed my hair, then rinsed my body.

  “You can open your eyes,” he said.

  I did. The room seemed unnaturally bright, white with steam. He wasn’t touching me, though. He was patting his hands dry on a towel.

  I whimpered. He had gotten me all aroused and didn’t let me come.

  “Will you…” I trailed the end of the sentence off. He looked at me, naked in the tub, and I could see the glint of amusement in his eyes as he shook his head. I reached to touch myself. I needed relief.

  “Then let me—”

  “Don’t.”

  His voice caught me by surprise, seizing my hand before I could touch between my legs.

  “Why not?” I asked, hating the whine in my voice.

  “You have a lot of questions for someone who’s supposed to be obeying orders.”

  “You never ordered me not to ask questions,” I countered.

  He laughed slightly.

  “True,” he said, holding out the towel. “Don’t come yet. I will let you know when. Tonight I want you ready for me.”

  I’m always ready for you.

  I shook the dirty thought out of my head. Here I was, never having slept with a man before, wanting to tell him that he could have me whenever he wanted.

  He could, though. I knew from the way his hands slipped over my body that I would be ready for him when he wanted me. I was ready now, now and always.

  “Let’s go,” he said, and held out his hand.

  Chapter Seven

  Jake sat at the edge of the bed, watching me dry myself with the huge white towel.

  “You’d better count your towels before I leave,” I warned him teasingly. “Something this fluffy and soft might find a way of disappearing.”

  “Are you talking about the towel or yourself?” he teased back. I snapped the towel at him and went to put on my underwear. It was gone.

  “Where’s…uh, where’s my underwear?” I asked, looking around.

  “Oh! I almost forgot,” Jake said, pulling out a box from under the bed. “I meant to give this to you earlier.”

  I opened the box. My eyes widened.

  It was lingerie, the most beautiful I’d ever seen. It wasn’t too lacy or frilled. Instead, the black silk fabric of the bra was studded with small clear gems along the band. I pulled on the black panties and examined the bra closely before putting it on.

  “Are these… these aren’t diamonds?” I asked.

  “No? Then I’ll have to take it back. The saleswoman must have lied to me.”

  “They’re diamonds? Who puts diamonds on underwear? You can’t even see them!”

  “I can see them,” Jake said, looking pleased with himself. “And I’ll see them again tonight when I take you out of your dress.”

  I flushed and clasped the bra around my chest, hooking the straps carefully over my shoulders.

  “Now the dress,” Jake said.

  “You know, the way you’re looking at me, I almost don’t mind wearing a dress,” I said, pulling the blue dress over my head. It shimmered delicately, slipping over my curves without catching anywhere. I eyed the heels next to the bed.

  “You don’t like dresses?”

  “Well, not usually,” I said, admiring myself in the mirror. “This one might make me change my mind though.”

  Jake had an eye for dresses. I wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but he managed to find something that made me feel comfortable while still being classy. The cream kitten heels I slipped on were almost as comfortable as sneakers.

  Almost.

  “You’re certainly different from any other girl I’ve ever known,” Jake said. “You can finish up in the bathroom. I’ll be waiting by the elevator.”

  Finish up? It wasn’t until I went back into the bathroom that I realized what he meant. There was a hairbrush, and a box of brand new makeup. I tried to remember what Steph had done to get me all pretty for Jake’s party, and by the time I was finished I felt like I had done okay. It wasn’t a supermodel staring back at me in the mirror, but it was good enough.

  I did a little twirl in the mirror, watching my dress flow over my ankles, and giggled.

  “Oh, man,” I said to myself. “You’d better not let anyone else know about this, or you’ll never live it down.”

  ***

  In the elevator, Jake made me look down over the city before pressing the button to go down. My heart rose into my stomach, but that was nothing compared to the feeling when he slipped his hand through the slit of my dress, cupping my ass. I could feel his cock hard against the small of my back.

  “Look out. Look out there.”

  The lights of New York City swam in my vision as he kissed the side of my neck. I trembled as his fingers slid farther, hooking their way under my panties.

  “I’m already wet, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I said. My voice was shaky.

  “I want you wet. Always. I want you hot and wet and ready for me when I decide to take you.”

  When. Not if. When.

  He had already chosen me. Why? I had no idea, but I didn’t feel like pressing my luck with another snarky comment. I wasn’t the old Lacey tonight. I was a girl in a dress on the arm of the richest, most handsome man in New York City, and I would act like it.

  In front of the apartment, we waited only a few moments before a limousine pulled up to the curb. I gaped at Jake in disbelief.

  “You’re not telling me…” I trailed off. Jake opened the limousine door and held out a hand.

  “It’s not every night I get to take a beautiful woman out to dinner,” he said.

  I would have bet money that wasn’t true. Jake Carville seemed like the kind of man who could take a different beautiful woman out to dinner every night for a year if he felt like it. But tonight, he had eyes only for me.

  I decided to enjoy it. Inside of the limousine, Jake made me a cocktail from the built-in bar. He mixed gin, vermouth, anisette, and a pink liquor I couldn’t identify immediately. He winked at me when he saw me watching.

  “Well then, my little bartender, I’m sure you know what this is.”

  “Looks like a Peggy,” I said. “If that’s—”

  “Dubonnet Rouge. Yes, it is. We always called it a Fever because of the blush.”

  “I’ve never heard that before,” I said. His fingers brushed against mine as he handed over the cocktail.

  “Sorry for assuming. Do you drink?” Jake asked teasingly.

  “Only when I’m not working,” I said, sipping at the cocktail.

  “Good. You’re more mature than women ten years older than you.”

  I bit my tongue. I wasn’t mature at all, not sexually at least. And sitting next to Jake brought up all kinds of images of him teaching me all about sex. I shook my head and stared out of the window, catching his glance. I want you to be hot and ready for me, he’d said.

  When we arrived at the restaurant, flashes of light came from the crowd on the sidewalk. Some of them seemed like professional cameramen.

  “Wait here,” Jake said, before I could open the door.

  He came around and opened the door for me. I stepped out carefully, and his fingers pinched the slit of my dress together.

  “Wouldn’t want your underwear on the front of the tabloids tomorrow,” he said.

  Why was he so famous? Every detail he told me only led to further questions. If I’d had my phone, I would have looked him up. Right now, though, I was happy just to be at his side, living in a dream.

  We went up the stairs to the restaurant. It was a Brazilian place situated just outside of Battery Park. The walls were trellises with flowered vines growing over them, and candles made the rooms dance with fire. It was a beautifully elegant setting.

  As we sat down at the table, I looked out at the view to the west. The Statue of Liberty was lit up by a spotlight across the water.

  “She looks so tiny from here,” I sai
d.

  A man stopped at our table, staring at me strangely. I stared right back at him. Who was he, a waiter? No. He was blond and tall, the picture of a movie star. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Then I heard Jake’s voice boom out from behind.

  “Lucas!”

  I watched in confusion as Jake leaned over and clapped a hand to the man’s shoulder. When he turned to me and introduced his friend, I realized how I’d heard the name before.

  “Lucas. So you’re the one who…” I didn’t know how else to say it. He was the man who’d given another girl as a gift to Jake. What kind of a person did that, just straight up bought another person for a week? It seemed oddly repulsive, although I suppose anyone could say that I was in the same position.

  “This isn’t the girl I sent you,” Lucas said, his eyes narrowing.

  “Lucas, Lucas. You always have such good taste. When I saw this beautiful young lady, I thought for certain that you had sent her. And by the time your actual gift came, I was already smitten.”

  Smitten. That was a word I hadn’t heard except in romance novels. Jake’s eyes were dancing with humor, though, and I thought he was joking. Surely he was joking.

  “How did you two meet?” Lucas asked.

  “Well,” Jake said, giving my hand a squeeze on the table, “I saw her bare feet peeking out from a canvas in my art gallery.”

  “You broke into his art gallery?”

  I flushed in shame.

  “Well, I mean, I didn’t break into it—”

  “She was delivering a cake.”

  “A cake? How serendipitous.”

  “I told her the universe sent her to me.”

  “The universe is a better gift-giver than I am, apparently.”

  “Please, don’t be offended.”

  “Of course not. I understand how you could get wrapped up in this girl’s charms.”

  He looked at me. I had no idea what he was talking about. Charms? I was about as uncharming as a tomboy could be.

  “Excuse me. I was about to use the restroom,” Jake said, standing up. Lucas slipped into his seat as quickly as if they’d been playing musical chairs.

  “I’ll keep this lovely lady company until you’re back.”

  “Don’t let him steal you away,” Jake said to me, coming around behind my chair. He kissed my shoulder and I felt a twinge of embarrassment at the public display of affection. “He’s a rogue in sheep’s clothing.”

  “I wouldn’t dare take away one of your toys,” Lucas said, leaning back in the chair. “You’d pitch a fit.”

  Jake lifted one finger in warning and stepped away from the table. When he was gone, Lucas grinned at me.

  “Is that what I am?” I asked. “A toy?”

  “Hasn’t he played with you?” he asked.

  I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

  “That’s personal.”

  “I’m sorry. Really, I am. Now that you’re blushing, though, I can see why Jake is attracted to you.”

  “Oh?”

  “You seemed older before. Now, you look perfectly innocent.”

  My eyes flashed up to Lucas.

  “Is that what he likes?”

  “He likes… well, I’ll let him tell you what he likes. He won’t hold back, of that much I’m certain.”

  A boat went by, its motor humming, and we both watched as it went by.

  “He hasn’t told me much about himself,” I said cautiously, after the boat had gone. “About his family or anything.”

  “His family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you don’t know—”

  Lucas cut himself off and leaned over the table.

  “What do you know about Jake Carville?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, mystified at his reaction. “I just told you. We’re just getting to know each other better. But he doesn’t give too many answers to my questions.”

  “Well, here’s one piece of advice. Don’t ask about his family.”

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t have one. He’s the Carville kid. Don’t you remember?”

  I shook my head. The phrase was familiar, somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Anyway, it’s a sore spot. He’ll tell you about it, I’m sure. If he keeps you for a while.”

  I frowned. I hated how he spoke about me, as though I was an object to be picked up and then discarded.

  “I can only hope he treats his toys well,” I said, seething between my teeth. “I’m sure you treat all your gifts as nicely as you hope to be treated.”

  Lucas opened his mouth as though he was about to answer, but just then Jake returned from the bathroom. He’d been quick, and I didn’t know whether it was because he didn’t want to leave me alone with Lucas, or because he didn’t want Lucas revealing any of his family secrets. Either way, Lucas stood up from the table.

  “Sorry to leave you so soon,” Lucas said. “Your lovely companion reminded me that I have somewhere to be.”

  “Such a shame you can’t join us,” Jake said teasingly. “We would have had such a romantic dinner, the three of us.”

  “Maybe some other time,” Lucas said, winking at me. He stood up from the table and pushed the seat in behind Jake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Same,” I said, reminding myself to ask Jake about his family later.

  Chapter Eight

  I didn’t want to sour the mood, so I avoided the topic of Jake’s family. It wasn’t hard. He asked me about my favorite artists, and he was surprisingly knowledgeable about contemporary art and the influences that had brought me all the way to New York City. I found myself nodding and leaning forward, anxious to hear what he thought about the newest installations in the contemporary art museum.

  Silly. It was almost like we were on a date.

  A waiter came by with a huge piece of meat skewered on a metal rod. He waited for me to speak, his eyebrows raised.

  “Rump roast,” the waiter prodded.

  “Uh. Oh.” I didn’t know what to say.

  “Yes, a few slices for the lady,” Jake said. The waiter nodded and set the rod on the table. He deftly sliced through the meat. The juicy slices peeled off onto my plate, the meaty aroma wafting to my nostrils. My stomach gurgled.

  After the waiter had served Jake, I whispered to him.

  “What’s that all about?”

  “It’s a churrascaria,” Jake said.

  “A chur-what?”

  “A churascaria,” he repeated. “They bring the meats out to your table and slice them fresh. You can have whichever ones you like.”

  “As much as I want?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can I have one of all of them?”

  Jake laughed.

  “You might get stuffed before you know it. There’ll be tri-tip and rack of lamb and duck and probably ten different kinds of pork.”

  “I want it all,” I said primly, forking a bite of the meat into my mouth.

  “You can have whatever you want,” Jake said, the meaning heavy in his words.

  I ate and ate and ate. Jake was right; by the time the fifth waiter had come around, I was stuffed. But I was determined to try at least a little bit of everything.

  “I’m ready to become a vegetarian after this,” I said.

  “Don’t you dare. There’s a barbecue place near my apartment that has the most amazing ribs. To die for.”

  “I can’t move.”

  “You have to. Come on, let’s dance.”

  “Dance?”

  “It’ll settle all the meat down in your stomach and make room for dessert.”

  “Dessert?” I groaned but let him lead me onto the dance floor. A few older couples were already swaying to the four-piece string band.

  The music was low and we didn’t bother much in following the beat. My heart was pounding too hard to be able to hear the rhythm of the songs, anyway. Jake, too, seemed preoccupied, his fingers tappin
g against my waist impatiently.

  I looked down and put a hand over his.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. His green eyes refocused closer, looking deeply into my face. For the second time, I thought that he was looking a bit too deeply. I wondered what he saw in me that held his attention at all. I was just a young painter trying to make it. Girls like me were a dime a dozen. But it was me in his arms, rocking side to side, and when he pulled me close, I rested my head against his shoulder.

  “Thank you for taking me out tonight,” I said.

  “It was my pleasure,” Jake murmured, and he sounded utterly sincere. And after a year’s worth of dates with guys who tried desperately to get me to come back to their apartments for sex, his sincerity was… strange. Not to mention the fact that this guy—this sincere, romantic man—had taken me without remorse when he thought I was a birthday gift.

  Right then, though, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the stars shining through the glass ceiling, the waves outside in the darkness, and the strong tall man holding me. I felt as though he was my gift from the universe, and I wasn’t about to let him go.

  He danced with me. In his arms, with the Statue of Liberty shining like a green beacon behind us, I felt utterly sated. I didn’t want anything else. Only this.

  Only him.

  ***

  “Where are we going? My bedroom?”

  “No.”

  “Your bedroom?”

  “No.”

  He showed me down the hall. It was a locked door. Locked, just like the storage room in his art studio. He opened it, and I stepped inside.

  Instantly the fuzziness in my mind dissipated.

  “Criminy.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word in here,” Jake said.

  I looked around. Unlike the other rooms in this house, this room was dimly lit and the walls were closer together. It felt tight. Claustrophobic.

  In the middle of the room was a bed with ivory sheets, lit from above with a single spotlight. No pillows, though. Only four bedposts, from which dangled chains that ended in black velvet-covered cuffs. I swallowed.

  Behind the bed was a huge mirror taking up the entire wall. As I stepped into the room, I saw my reflection staring back at me. It was strangely modern for an apartment that looked like Versailles.