Torn: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel Part 10

h.e.l.l, yeah. So am I.

Downs.h.i.+fting, I pull over. I throw the car into park and lean over the center console at the exact time she moves toward me. We attack each other, lips searching, hands wandering, clinging, fighting to draw our bodies closer, but the awkward s.p.a.ce makes it difficult.

"I want you," she whispers against my mouth before she sucks my lower lip between hers. "Please."

"Seriously?" I'm in absolute shock. She acted like having s.e.x with me was the biggest mistake of her life. But here she is leaning into my hands as I curve them around her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her breaths coming out in sharp pants as she rests her hands over mine, making me squeeze her b.r.e.a.s.t.s together.

d.a.m.n, she's hot.

"Seriously." Her voice tinged with amus.e.m.e.nt, she withdraws from my touch, moving closer to the pa.s.senger side door. Slowly she reaches for the hem of her s.h.i.+rt and tugs it up, then off, tossing it onto the back seat. Her bra is black, smooth satin and my mouth waters as she reaches behind her, unclasping it and tearing it off so it falls from her fingertips onto the floorboard.

I can't form words. She strips off each article of clothing until she's completely naked, coming at me like a woman possessed. I feel like a man possessed, obsessed with the feel of her soft skin beneath my palms, the taste of her. She climbs on top of me, pressing all that hot, wet deliciousness against my denim-covered c.o.c.k, grinding against me like she's trying to get off.

s.h.i.+t. Maybe she is trying to get off.

But no. She wants to involve me in the action too. Her nimble fingers undo my b.u.t.ton fly and she's reaching inside my boxer briefs, sure fingers curling around the length of my c.o.c.k. Knowing I'm about to blow, I lightly slap her hand away, reaching behind me to pull out my wallet and the condom nestled within.

I packed extra in the glove compartment earlier. I'm not an idiot.

"You make me crazy," she whispers, s.n.a.t.c.hing it out of my fingers. She tears into it, rolling the condom onto my c.o.c.k and then she's on top of me, slowly sinking until I'm completely imbedded inside her.

A car drives by, the bright white lights flas.h.i.+ng across her, offering me a glimpse of her swaying b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her hips as they slowly move up and down. I grasp her there, steadying her, keeping her slow, afraid I'll ruin it by coming too fast.

Because holy s.h.i.+t, I'm ready to explode. I'm still fully clothed save for my open jeans and she's deliciously naked. All that fragrant, soft skin is wrapped around me, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in my face, nipples teasing my lips. I draw one in deep, sucking, tonguing, teasing her until she's tossing her head back, riding me relentlessly. I s.h.i.+ft away from her, wanting to watch. She's beautiful in her abandon, so lost as she races toward that delicious moment, and I want to mark this moment permanently in my brain.

"So good," she breathes, tipping her head back down so she can press her forehead to mine. I tip my chin up, brush her mouth with mine and she devours me. The kiss hot, wet. Deep. I grip the end of her ponytail, tugging hard and she gasps.

d.a.m.n. She likes that too. If we didn't hate each other so much, I'd believe she was made just for me.

"Harder, Gage," she encourages, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Make me come."

Ah, f.u.c.k. I can't resist that. I increase my pace, thrusting hard, filling her again and again until she's crying out my name, her body quivering, sobs falling from her lips as she collapses against me.

I hold her close, tracing circles on her back with my fingertips, making her s.h.i.+ver. Her grip around my neck is like a vice, her face buried into my neck. I feel her warm lips press sweet kisses to my flesh, and I squeeze her closer, our racing hearts in complete and total sync.

"You haven't come yet," she whispers against my throat, her tongue licking.

My c.o.c.k twitches. It's more than aware of that. "I know."

She lifts her head up, her arms loosely resting around my neck, her expression slumberous and full of satisfaction. "Let me make that up to you," she murmurs as she slowly starts to grind against me.

I wrap my hands around her waist, guiding her, my gaze locked where our bodies meet. She's moving on me slow and sure, little murmurs of pleasure escaping her, and I can't look away. I'm entranced by the way she moves, the words she says, the way she looks at me.

What am I doing? What is she doing to me? I feel lost . . . gloriously, deliciously lost in my need to have her.

Only her.

I'm closer to the edge, unable to hold back, when she reaches between us and touches my c.o.c.k, then her c.l.i.t. The sight of her slender fingers playing down there sends me right over the edge, making me gasp as my hips buck against her. She smiles her encouragement, murmuring my name, and I grab hold of her ponytail pulling her face to mine so I can drown in her kiss.

f.u.c.k. I'm wrecked. All because of this woman.

Chapter Nine.

Marina I ENTER THE building with my head held high, pretending I have everything completely under control, while inside I'm a confused ma.s.s of jumbled nerves and rapidly growing insecurities. Smoothing my hair back from my face, I glance toward Gage as he stops just beside me, tall and commanding, earning plenty of appreciative glances from the various women sitting in the lobby and waiting to be seated.

He finds me watching him and flashes me a dazzling smile, making my heart race. I remember what he looked like only minutes ago, dazed and fascinated with me as I rose above him, naked and greedy and crazed with wanting him. Riding his thick c.o.c.k straight into oblivion.

I don't know what came over me. Watching him drive that powerful, outrageously expensive car, his big hand s.h.i.+fting the gears, his thighs flexing as he pressed the pedals, sent me into a s.e.xual tizzy. Just like that, I wanted him. Had to have him at that very moment or felt like I was going to die. I've never reacted like that to a man.

Ever.

"Do I look okay?" I whisper, leaning into him as I tuck yet another tendril behind my ear. I'd slicked on fresh lipstick while still in the car, pulling my clothes into place as best I could. He'd barely done anything, just tucked himself back into his jeans, tugged on his sweater, and he was good to go.

Men. They're disgustingly easy sometimes.

"Truth?" He smiles, and I sort of want to punch him for being so ridiculously good looking. I feel like a frazzled mess while he looks amazing. His hair is a little messy-from my eager fingers, I might add-but it's a good look for him.

Everything's a good look for him.

"Of course, tell me the truth," I mutter, irritated. Great, I must look a complete mess if he feels the need to tell me the "truth." I wonder if I have time to dash into the bathroom and put myself back together before we have to go sit down with Archer and his fiance.

I really hope I like his fiance. I'm more nervous meeting her than talking with Archer. Women hold such a strong influence on their men and their decisions. I know Archer's a respected businessman, but from what I understand, he's so far gone over this new and very steady woman in his life, I'm sure he listens to her opinion.

So what if she hates me? She could tell Archer how she feels and bam. My chance is over.

Gage grabs hold of my elbow and tugs me closer to him, his mouth right at my ear, hot breath fanning against my skin and making me s.h.i.+ver before he whispers, "You look . . . freshly f.u.c.ked. And beautiful with it."

I pull away to meet his gaze, utterly speechless.

He grins. "It's a good look on you. One I suggest you wear as often as possible."

I smile and follow through with my earlier instinct, giving him a slug on the arm. He smirks, leans in once more and kisses my cheek, his lips lingering, warm and soft and so comforting I want to melt. "I can keep you in that look all night if you want."

"Stop." I shove him away from me, noticing the strange looks we're receiving from those waiting for a table. Great.

I so don't want to draw attention to the two of us together. What if someone recognizes us and it gets back to my dad that I'm out on a date with Gage? From what Gage told me, he's tried to get in contact with my father numerous times since our first encounter. And I know he's tried to talk to him prior to our meeting too.

I'm basically hanging out with the enemy. My dad would be furious, though I haven't talked to him about Gage. I'm too scared. It's bad enough I told my mom his name. It didn't dawn on me at the time since I was too busy looking for something to wear and not thinking with all cylinders firing. I'd been a little brain-warped after our night together, and now? After the incident in the car?

I'm toast. Done.

"Considering I know just how much you enjoyed getting that particular look, I wanted to make the offer," he says from over his shoulder as he moves away from me, approaching the hostess's counter and asking if our other party has already been seated. He flicks his head for me to follow and I do so like a good little girlfriend, letting him take my hand, loving the way he entwines my fingers with his as he leads me through the restaurant.

I can't believe I've fallen into this role so easily. I shouldn't want to. I shouldn't do it at all. I'm not his girlfriend and he's not my boyfriend. We're not even in a real relations.h.i.+p.

We're at one of the most expensive and revered restaurants in Napa Valley. Gage and Archer have exquisite taste, I'll give them that. The place is overflowing with beautiful people, all of them dressed to perfection. I can't see anything but a sea of suits and finely cut dresses. They all look like they just came out of work.

I look like I'm ready to hang out for the night and go clubbin'. Or worse, I have the freshly f.u.c.ked look, according to Gage. Can everyone see we just had wild and crazy s.e.x in his car?

G.o.d, I hope not.

My fingers tremble, and I feel him squeeze my hand. He comes to a stop, turning to look at me, his face etched with concern. "You okay?"

I shouldn't let it touch me that he's being so sweet. But it does. I want to melt at the concern I see reflected in his eyes. "A little nervous," I admit.

"Archer won't bite. You're going to be fine." He kisses me on the lips, right there in the middle of the freaking restaurant, and I want to both disappear and scream with glee that this man . . . this very fine man standing right here, is mine.

But he's not. Not really. We're . . . huh. I don't know what we're doing. He wants my family's property. He'd probably fall to my feet in grat.i.tude if I introduced him to my father, which I so don't want to do. Helping him get that much closer to what he wants would be idiotic on my part. It would be the end of the bakery.

Besides, I want an opportunity to grow my business. Instead of pus.h.i.+ng him away, I'm selfishly spending time with him. And we're gaining something from each other while we have wild pa.s.sionate s.e.x on the side. A totally unexpected bonus in this bargain we made.

It's so strange, so unlike anything I've ever done before. There is no definition for what I'm experiencing with Gage.

I just need to approach it day by day.

"What about Archer's fiance?" I ignore the pointed stare the hostess is shooting us when she discovers we're not following behind her any longer. Just how big is this stupid restaurant?

"Yeah. Uh. She's great." He smiles and fidgets, releasing my hand so he can run his through his tousled dark hair. "I have a confession to make."

Dread fills my stomach. "What is it?"

"Sir? Miss? Your table is this way," the hostess calls, her voice full of hostility that we're not obeying her command.

We ignore her. "Tell me," I say when he still hasn't answered.

Shrugging, he reaches out, trails his index finger down my cheek. "She's my sister."

I frown. "Who? Do you mean Archer's fiance?"

"Yeah." He winces. "My best friend is marrying my baby sister."

"Oh." I'm sort of offended that he didn't tell me from the first. Why keep it such a secret? I don't get it.

Sometimes, I really don't get him.

"Mister Emerson!" The hostess is practically shouting at us. "Please, follow me!"

We hurry after her, my mind awhirl after his confession. She leads us to the very back of the restaurant, where the private dining rooms are, and I blow out a slow, cleansing breath, trying to calm my agitated nerves.

I thought having s.e.x with Gage in his car would take the edge off, but no, I couldn't have been more wrong. I feel edgier, more amped up than ever. He's not helping matters with how sweet he's being. You'd think I'd like his att.i.tude and want more of it, after all the fighting and the arguing between us.

But I need the distance. I need to focus and think about what exactly I want to say to Archer. Now that I know he's with Gage's sister, that Archer is Gage's best friend, it puts a new spin on their relations.h.i.+p. Puts a new spin on the entire dynamic that's about to happen once we sit down with them. I knew he and Archer were good friends, but I guess I didn't realize they were best friends. They're practically family.

"Here you go." The hostess stops at an open door that leads to a small dining room, the interior done in cool greens and blues. Gage lets me walk in first, and I spot them sitting at the table. I smile nervously at Archer and his fiance. Gage's freaking sister.

G.o.d help me, I hope I don't make a fool of myself in front of her. I want her to like me.

It doesn't matter if she likes you or not. You're not looking for a relations.h.i.+p with Gage. You're having dirty, awesome s.e.x with him. Nothing more, nothing less.

I really wish I could believe that.

Plus, I need to focus on what I really want out of this dinner. A chance to gain exposure for the bakery and my aunt's desserts by having them featured at his hotel. That's what matters tonight.

Gage rests his hand at the small of my back, his simple touch making my heart hammer. I watch helplessly as Archer stands and approaches us, a warm smile on his handsome face as he stops in front of me. He's wearing a suit, just like everyone else in this restaurant save for me and Gage, and he's intimidating despite the friendly expression.

"Marina, it's wonderful to see you." Leaning in, he presses the requisite society kiss to my cheek. "You're looking ravis.h.i.+ng tonight."

Oh. G.o.d. I want to die. He is so close to the truth it's embarra.s.sing. Does he know Gage ravished me? Can he tell? Am I wearing a flas.h.i.+ng sign on my forehead that screams freshly f.u.c.ked?

Gage's low chuckle doesn't help matters either. If he doesn't watch it, he's going to end up with an elbow in the ribs.

"Thank you," I say, my voice shaky, and I clear my throat. "So glad you're able to have dinner tonight with us, Archer. I know it was last minute."

"Anything for Gage." He flashes him a quick, smug smile. "I may think he's a complete a.s.shole, but considering he's going to be my brother-in-law in less than a year, I guess I need to start thinking of him as part of my family."

"Oh, stop being so rude." His fiance approaches us as well, her expression open. Friendly. Curious. "I'm Ivy. Gage's sister. You must be Marina." She extends her hand toward me.

"Nice to meet you," I offer weakly, overwhelmed as she takes my hand and shakes it. I don't want to screw this up, and I'm going to if I don't watch it. I can barely keep my c.r.a.p together as I stand before these two people.

I need to chill out.

Ivy's wearing a red wrap-style dress, looking effortless and elegant, and again I feel like an idiot in my jeans. I blame working at the bakery for my lack of dressy clothes. I have them, I just don't bother wearing them much anymore. I'm always in jeans.

Though Gage doesn't seem to mind me in jeans . . .

We all sit at the table, Archer and Ivy resuming the spots they occupied and Gage and I sitting across from them. The table is small, the setting intimate, and I keep my gaze on the place setting in front of me, trying to calm my racing heart.

Gage settles his hand on my back, reaching up to tickle at the sensitive skin of my nape. I jerk my gaze toward him, giving him a look I hope he can interpret: one that says stop touching me.

He doesn't seem to get it. Clueless b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Instead he's smiling at me, as if he enjoys my slight discomfort, and I grimace at him, my breath catching in my throat when he laughs at me.

"Why are you so worked up?" he asks after the waiter sweeps out of the room with our drink orders. "You seem upset."