At the Billionaire’s Wedding (39 page)

Holy hell.
A few minutes was going to be too much.

“Wait.”
She clambered off him, pushed him away, and held her palms out in a stop gesture. She stumbled back several paces. “I don’t want to do this drunk.”

He made his brain function. “I don’t want you to do this drunk either.”

“I’ll be back later.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t move.”

An intoxicated giggle bubbled from her. “Well, you can
move
. Just don’t
go
. Away from the estate. You know. Far.”

“If you’ll be back here sober to make love to me, California, trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

She bit her lip, gave him an adorably sexy-shy smile, and left. Piers leaned back against the wall and groaned.

The digital alarm clock flickered a muted blue 12:04 a.m. when Cali awoke to darkness. Mouth sticky, head heavy, and stomach roiling, she stumbled into the bathroom, drank two glasses of water, swallowed three Ibuprofen pills, and fell onto the bed again.

She hadn’t gotten more than mildly tipsy in years. She’d only gotten truly drunk a few times in her teens, before her father started drinking enough for the whole family. Today she’d drunk for the worst of reasons: because a man had disappointed her. She pressed her face into her palms and wanted to scream. Becoming both her mother and father in the same day was a lifetime low.

Heaving herself off the bed, she stepped into the shower and let hot water run over her, washing away the dumbass woman she’d become for a few hours. Toweling off her hair, she pulled out one of Roxanna’s flippy little miniskirts and a sexy tank top. She chose her bra and panties carefully, tucked several condoms into the skirt’s back pocket, slid her feet into a pair of sequined flip-flops, and went to keep her scheduled wedding-party-sex appointment.

He didn’t answer her knock at his room. Some of the others were still partying downstairs, but she didn’t find him there either. She didn’t have to search for him for long, though.

Only underwater lights illuminated the pool, and a single towel lay on a chair. He was doing laps, his gorgeous arms cutting the water in classic Piers fashion—easy, confident, strong. She got a little light-headed watching.

Mid-lap, he noticed her. He stood up, submerged to his hips. The water glistened on his shoulders, chest, and the tight ripples of his abs.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” she said. “I remember everything I said.”

“I hope so.”

“You didn’t stay in the stable.” She let herself grin, but her lips were wobbly.

“It’s been seven hours. I couldn’t be still. Adrenaline, you know.” He was teasing. But serious. She understood. “You’re sober now?” he said.

“As a judge.”

“Want to come in here?”

“Do condoms work underwater?”

His chest rose and fell roughly. “Pretty sure they do.”

“Let’s not take any chances.”

“All right.” He walked up the steps and over to her. He didn’t pause to towel off. Taking her face between his hands, he bent his head and kissed her. Cool lips got hot in seconds. Then he was delving, their tongues tangling, their breaths coming hard and fast. The muscles of his arms beneath her hands contracted and he dragged her to him. Water soaked through her skirt. She didn’t care. She pressed against him and felt his erection. Hard already.
Wild heat.
No more delays. She had to be skin-to-skin with him. This had to happen
now
.

She pulled off her tank top. A sound of pure masculine pleasure came from his chest. His hands caught her beneath the arms and he flattened her against his bare torso. Her belly came in contact with the hard rock of his abdomen, and she spread her thighs to feel his arousal against hers.

“If we start this here,” he growled, “it’s going to happen here.”

“Bedroom?”

“Boathouse is closer.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along the dark pool deck.

On the path to the lake, her flip-flop caught in the pebbles and she tripped. He grabbed her up in his arms again and they were all over each other in an instant. Mouths frantic. Skin hot. His hands on her waist, then cupping her breasts. Unsnapping the front clasp of her bra. Her hands on his butt.

His palms surrounded her breasts, thumbs passing over the nipples, making her whimper.

“Jesus, Cali,” he said huskily over her lips. “This feels so right.”

She knew it. Everything about him felt right. His hands on her. His mouth and scent and every word he said.

No.
Not his words. Words lied. This was just about his body. And lust. Sex. A fling. No emotions. No perfect words that made her heart flutter.

He gripped her waist tight. “Wait, listen, I’ve got to tell you—”

“Don’t talk.” Her hand dove down his swimsuit. “Just do me,” she said, stroking. “Now.”

He scooped her into his arms, but she wanted more than kissing now. She whipped a condom out of her pocket, tore it open, and pressed him back against a tree as she slipped her panties off. The sight of him ready for her made her damp. And hot. She encased him in the condom, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and let him lift her onto his cock. He fit himself inside her, thick and hard, making her gasp and gulp air.

“You okay?” His voice wasn’t steady.

“
So
okay.” She moved on him and laughed in exultation.
This.
This pleasure. This intensity. This completely, irresponsibly wild act of rebellion from her careful, cautious life. She needed
this
. He held her butt and pulled her snugly onto him and she clung to his shoulders. But he was so big and in this position she couldn’t feel him where she needed it the most. She pressed to him in frustration. Closer.
Closer.
Not close enough.

“Oh,
ohh
. I can’t—I—Take me down.”

“Take you—”

“To the ground.
Please.
”

He took her to the ground in the grass beside the path. All around were night sounds, and him between her thighs and inside her, and crazy, unbelievable pleasure. He thrust into her fast and hard, just like she wanted it, their mouths ravenous and hands urging. It didn’t take her long. She came in a frantic frenzy of pleasure. He drove into her and groaned deeply.

“California Blake.” He dipped his head beside hers. “Where have you been all my life?”

Heaven

She had prickers in her butt. Rather, in her
ass
. Whatever the terminology, this would not be easy to explain at the Free Clinic.

She winced as Piers helped her to stand.

“What’s wrong?” he said. “I didn’t hurt you. Did I?”

“Nope. Not in the least. The opposite.” She tried not to cringe. “It’s embarrassing. But I think I’d better go back to my room and take care of it.”

His hand tightened around hers. “What is it? Tell me.”

“I think I got some … well … prickers … in my … um…”

He was obviously trying not to smile.

She glowered “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I won’t. I’m really sorry.” He drew her into his arms. “However sorry I am, though, I’m not letting you go so quickly just because of this.”

“
Just
because of this? It stings like crazy.”

“Did I mention that I’m a doctor?”

“A doctor?”

“Mm hm.” He kissed her temple, then beside her mouth.

She tilted her face up to let him. “You are not.”

“Sure am. Got my MD right before the MBA. Figured it’d make me more marketable.”

“You’re a Prescott. That’s all you need to be marketable.”

“Okay, I’m not a doctor.” He kissed her below her ear in the place that made her unsteady inside, and hot, despite her stinging butt and the remnants of orgasm lingering in her.

“Would you believe I was pre-med in college?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You weren’t.”

“For three years. I wanted to be a doctor. Every summer during high school and college I volunteered at my uncle’s free clinic.”

Her throat was abruptly thick. “Your uncle has a free clinic?”

“In North Philly. Always in the red. Family scandal. Nobody mentions it.” His hands on her back felt like a dream. “Now let me doctor your battle wounds,” he said low and seductively. “Then we’ll come up with some ways to entertain you that won’t disturb the—ah—area.”

“Entertain me?”

“And me.” He grinned, a gorgeous smile of pure sexy fun. It should make her laugh, not sweep the air from her lungs. She forced herself to chuckle. In response, he kissed her on the mouth, a long and increasingly lush kiss, his hands holding her tightly, as if he actually enjoyed simply kissing her. He was the perfect hookup guy. The perfect wedding party fling.

“Let’s go to your room,” she whispered.

“Right this way, ma’am.”

He took her hand and led her into the house through a back entrance. They ended up in an unlit stairwell in the part of the building that was still under renovation. As she ascended the first step, he touched the small of her back.

“Take care,” he said, his palm secure on her.

She stalled. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Supporting you.”

“S—Supporting…?” Air wouldn’t come.

“California?”

She couldn’t see his face very well. She reached out and found him in the dark.

His chest. Her fingertips. Only that contact. But she felt it everywhere. Beneath her ribs.

“Wow,” she whispered. “Wow.”

His chest expanded roughly beneath her fingertips.

He pushed her back to the wall and covered her mouth with his. She put her hands in his hair, then all over him. In less than two minutes, a condom wrapper was open, her thighs were wide, and he was brushing aside her flippy skirt. He picked her up and pushed inside her.

“Ohh.”
She closed her eyes on the darkness. He filled her entirely.
Perfect.

“California,” he said gutturally, and shoved her up against the wall with the force of his thrust.

“Again,” she moaned. “Please, again.”

He gave it to her again, and again, rough and fast, his hands gripping her hips, forcing her onto him. Sweat slicked the insides of her thighs. She slid, rode him, and came hard in a shower of sensation. He strained into her, and she felt him jerk inside her.

Loosing one hand from her hip, he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her hungrily, like he wanted her. Still.
After
orgasm. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Their kiss devoured.

Eventually she had to gasp for air. He pressed their brows together.

“Best”—she panted—”wedding party sex”—smiling deliriously—”ever.”

His breaths seemed to catch. In the close silence of the stairwell, she heard him swallow hard. “Right.” The word sounded short.

With great care he drew out of her and set her feet on the floor.

Oh, no. What kind of jerk was she?

“Um. What I mean is…” She smoothed her skirt over her thighs. “I’ve never done this before. Wedding party hookup sex, that is. This is a first for me.”

“Is it?” His voice was very low. He hadn’t moved away. She wished she could see his eyes.

“Yes.” She tried to keep her tone casual. “Have you?”

“No.” In the dark he touched her cheek with unerring accuracy, as though he knew exactly where her face was. He kissed her mouth. Softly. On her swollen, sensitive lips, the gentleness was breathtaking. “Only with you,” he said and kissed her again tenderly.

She told herself she didn’t need to believe him. She just needed him for the weekend.

Praying he couldn’t feel her hands trembling, she flattened her palms on his chest. “What do we do now? Next?”

“Whatever we want.” His lips brushed hers, softly again, as if he were trying to seduce her. “How’s your ass?”

“My ass?”

“The prickers?”

“I—I forgot about them.”

“You forgot about them.” She practically heard him grin.

She slapped a palm over her mouth. “I can’t believe I just admitted that. Your ego—”

“Is feeling mighty fine at this moment.”

“Do you still want to play doctor?” She could feel her cheeks flaming.

“If you’re the patient, most definitely.”

This time they made it to his room. He opened the door and touched her elbow to guide her inside. The moment when he hadn’t done so—last night in the limo—bothered her more than ever. He seemed too confident to be the jealous type, and she’d made it clear she thought Dick was a creep. But Piers had been so distracted—
upset?
—that his habitual gentlemanliness had disappeared.

He switched on a light. Decorated with historical elegance like hers, his room however was a suite: luxurious, with a king-sized bed, a separate sitting area, and a gorgeous antique desk upon which sat only a sleek laptop. No clothes littered the floor. No coats hung on the backs of chairs. No half-finished bottles of water dotted the dresser, only the room key he’d just placed there.

“Wow. You’re so … neat,” she mumbled.

From behind, he slipped his arms around her waist and bent to kiss her neck. “I travel all the time,” he said against her shoulder. “I hate hotel rooms.”