Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (11 page)

“Less talking, more fucking,” he replied.

"Not gonna argue with that," I said, fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt. We were still standing in the foyer, barely three feet in the door. "Nice place, by the way." I ripped his pants down to around his ankles.

He grabbed the sides of my head and made me look at him. "You'll get a tour later, I promise." He dove down to my breasts, kissing between them, still trapped in a red lacy bra that was from the large package he'd delivered to me earlier.

I sighed as he ran his tongue down my stomach to the tops of my thighs. He wasted no time in pulling down my brand new matching red lace panties and trailing his tongue down my slit, flicking and gliding as he did so. I was already close to the edge.

He could tell. "Turn around and bend over," he commanded.

I did as I was told, hanging onto the drywall for dear life as he entered me from behind, driving me closer and closer to pure ecstasy.

We were crumpled together on his leather couch, totally naked and entwined, still making out. “Are we actually going to end up talking business at any point?” I asked him.

He kissed my nose. "Tomorrow, maybe," he replied. He licked my ear and grabbed my right breast, making me moan again.

"I need a break," I said. "I had, like, ten orgasms today."

Zane laughed. "That's all? I'm losing my touch." He kissed me again on the lips.

"For my first day I'd say you did pretty well," I replied, pulling my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head and reaching to the floor to find my glasses. I slid them on my nose.

"You are so fucking sexy and you don't even know it," Zane whispered to me.

I squinted at him. "Stop looking at me like that. I said I needed a break."

"Then you need to put those tits away if you want me to stop," he replied, reaching over me and grabbing a cashmere throw. He tucked it around my body gently. "So what do you want to do instead of fucking? Tell each other our innermost desires and needs?"

I laughed. "Yeah, let's start there. You first."

Zane shook his head. "You know everything there is to know about me if you've spent any time at all in this city. You first. Family. Childhood. Ready, set, go."

I leaned my head against his shoulder. I fit perfectly in the space between his neck and his shoulder. "I grew up in Georgia," I said. "With my older sister, Callie. My dad died when I was about eight. My mom's a raging narcissist, so we don't really talk. Callie and I are close, though."

Zane rested his lips on top of my hair. His warm breath met my scalp and sent tingles down my spine. There was that electricity again. "Were you close to your dad?"

I nodded. "Yeah. We were best friends. I was his favorite; Callie always hated that. But it doesn't matter. She's perfect, skinny, gorgeous, blonde-blue-eyed Callie. She's always had everything. I've just been tottering behind her with my short, fat little shadow."

"I fucking love that short, fat, little shadow so you watch what you say around me, alright?"

I looked up to see the playful twinkle in Zane's eyes. "Yes, Mr. Reid," I purred in my best attempt at a sexy voice.

He squeezed my sides to tickle me. "I thought you said no more sex. We can play naughty librarian later. Tell me more about your family."

I exhaled, staring over his tattooed shoulder at the skyscrapers that were slowly lighting up in the sinking twilight. "Callie went to law school at age twenty. She's only twenty-eight and she's already made partner at her law firm," I explained. "She's twinkling, sparkling Callie. Married right out of law school to her husband. Patrick." I let his name hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "They have that gorgeous Lincoln Park house that you saw. She works a lot. So does he, actually. He's a general contractor."

Zane peered his blue eyes into my soul. "You sounded weird when you said Patrick's name. Why?"

I shifted and wiggled away from him, tucking myself into the ninety-degree, plush corner of the sofa to try to hide from him. "He's my brother in law. That's it."

Zane inclined his head in disbelief. "Nice try. Who is Patrick to you?"

I pulled a hand out of the blanket of protection, nibbling at a hangnail. "We dated once. Callie doesn't know that."

Zane raised his eyebrows. "How does she not know that?"

I shrugged. "It didn't seem relevant to tell her. You don't know my sister. If you did, you'd understand why we had to keep it a secret. And it was nothing, anyway. Like three dates. We obviously didn't have sex," I motioned to my concealed, now-deflowered mound. "We kissed a bit but that was it."

"Who broke it off?"

I was hoping he wouldn't be insightful enough to actually ask questions like that. My hope was for nothing, clearly. "There was nothing to break off. Like I said, it was like three dinner dates and that's it. Callie came to visit me at school and Patrick was in my study group. They hit it off. He's a few years younger than she is. He was taking chemistry as a senior so he could graduate. I was a freshman. It was
nothing
. Less than nothing. I promise."

Zane bit his lip. "Nah, I'm not accepting that as an answer. In every single relationship, even if it's five minutes of grinding on each other at a nightclub, there is always a pursued and a pursuer. Which one were you?"

I sighed resignedly. "I guess I was the pursued."

"So
you
broke it off?"

"I never called him back after our last date, which was right before Callie met him. I was busy with lab work and the honors college and all the new clubs I was running..." I trailed off into nowhere.

Zane nodded slowly. "So you told him to fuck off, then he married your sister, and now all three of you are living in the same house?"

I nodded. "That's about the sum of it. Except for the underlying things that you're implying; I promise you there is no tension there. Zero. Patrick loves Callie. They’re the ideal married couple. Everything you think about when you think 'perfect yuppie marriage' - that's Callie and Patrick. Just without the babies."

Zane raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Whatever you say, Rachel."

"Okay, I've spilled enough. It's your turn."

Zane got off the couch, his huge cock swinging in the air. I blushed when I looked at it. "You hungry?"

"I could eat," I replied. "But you're still not off the hook with sharing your past with me, by the way."

"Wouldn't dream of walking away from that conversation," Zane retorted. He picked up the phone on the kitchen wall. "They can make whatever you want downstairs."

"Pizza," I said.

Zane laughed. "Seriously, you could have filet mignon, you could have Afro-Carribbean fusion food, or a kobe beef burger-"

"Pizza. Deep dish. Pineapple and ham, please," I said easily.

"Fuck I love you. A simple woman for once." He placed the call to the kitchen.

I chewed over what he'd just said about me. "I'm not simple," I said challengingly. "Is simple why you chose me to
breed
?" I’d meant the last word as a joke but it hit Zane hard.

He had a look of shock on his face but he quickly recovered. He was still naked, and he crawled on all fours over to my place on the couch. He moved the blanket aside with his teeth, kisses cascading generously once again from his plump lips. "I chose you," he said. "Because I've wanted to see you on all fours since the second I laid eyes on you. That's why I chose you."

I pushed him off of me. "How many women have you fucked on this sofa?" I spat at him.

He grinned, showing me his dimples. "Not nearly enough," he replied. "And there's room for at least one more on that list." He grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward him. I kicked him off of me, wrapping myself in the blanket and walking as confidently as I could toward the doorway. I pulled my bra, panties, and dress back on with a haughty flip of my head.

"
One more
is going to have to wait," I replied, walking to the guest bathroom and locking the door behind me. I leaned against the wall, breathing hard. I looked at myself in the mirror and pinched my cheeks. It was still me: red hair, horn-rimmed glasses, chubby cheeks and freckles. Huge tits and curves everywhere. I walked closer to the mirror to look in my own eyes. It was as if I was scared there was going to be someone else looking back at me through them.

But it was still me. I ran the tap on the faucet until the water was steaming. I took off my glasses and splashed hot water over my skin. I dried it off with a fresh, fluffy towel and rinsed my mouth out with cold water. I spit into the sink. Somewhere in the back of my head was the knowledge that what we were doing here, together, was attempting to make a life within my body.

But I was segmenting. Compartmentalizing. This was something I'd done ever since my dad had died. None of this was real. I knew how biology worked. I wasn't even ovulating yet. This was just sex. Nothing else. Really hot, steamy, mind-blowing sex. That was it.

Liar
, said a voice in my head. I pushed it aside.

I finally emerged from the bathroom. "I'm not simple," I said defiantly from the bathroom doorway. Zane had pulled his boxers back on and was scrolling through apps on his phone.

He looked up at me. "I know that," he replied. "I swear to fucking God I was only talking about the pizza, Rach."

"Don't call me Rach. You don't know me well enough for that. Not yet."

Zane put down his phone and considered my words. He tilted his head to the side and looked at me. "You want to know something about me that no one else knows?"

I bit my lip and crossed my arms over my chest. "That was the general idea here, yeah."

He stood up and walked over to me, taking my hands and unlinking my arms. I let go begrudgingly. His touch, even just on my fingertips, was like fire. "I've always had a thing for redheads, but they usually don't like me. That's why I've never been seen with one."

I blushed for the millionth time and smiled even though I was fighting hard not to. I didn't want to give in that easily. But he wasn't finished. "I had my first girlfriend was when I was in second grade. She was a redhead. I told her I was going to marry her."

"Mm," I replied, grinning. "And what happened with that relationship?"

"She punched my arm, called me a poop head, and took all my lunch money," Zane said, his eyes glimmering.

"Don't think I won't do the same, Zane," I retorted, sticking out my tongue childishly.

Zane lifted me over his shoulder and carried me into his bedroom. "Put me down!" I yelled, still laughing.

He tossed me on the mattress and flipped me over. He held his face inches from mine. "Only kissing. I promise. Even if you beg me for sex, I'm only going to kiss you. Got it?"

I twisted my mouth in response. "No sex. I don’t want anymore. Not today."

He nodded. "Only kissing. Even if you're screaming bloody murder. I'm not fucking you again tonight."

"I made it through five boyfriends with
only kissing
and guess what? I never needed sex from
any
of them."

Zane kissed my lips with a tenderness I didn't know he possessed. Then he slowly slipped his tongue out to trace the edges of my mouth. A shudder passed through my body. He pulled away from my mouth and went to my ear. "But I'm not your
other
boyfriends, am I?"

He proved as good as his word. Even when I begged him to take me again, he didn't.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ZANE

It had been a month. Rachel was already storming through business meetings with the board I'd assembled. We'd already sold the first fifty-thousand units. She was working harder than any person I'd ever met in my entire life.

If only she were as goal-oriented in the bedroom, she'd already be knocked up with quadruplets.

Not that the sex wasn't good - it was mind-blowing. She was my virginal clay and I could shape her however I wanted to. I'd never been with a woman like that, yet she was teaching me things that even seasoned sex workers couldn't dream up.

But it had been a month with no positive pregnancy tests. "You're not secretly still on hormonal birth control and not telling me, are you?" I asked her one night while we ate pizza in my bed.

She laughed. "You think I would risk one of your lackeys following me to the drug store?"

I put my pizza down. "I'm not having you followed."

Rachel flashed me a sarcastic thumbs-up. "Right, okay."

I wiped my mouth with a napkin and sat upright in bed. "Seriously. What do you think this is?"

"A business deal," Rachel replied, biting into her next slice.

I bit my lip. "It's more than that," I grumbled.

Michael knocked on the door. "Mr. Reid, if there's nothing else, I'll be leaving for the weekend."

"Cheerio, good man," I quipped in my best approximation of a British accent, grateful for the interruption. Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Sorry he's maligning your people with that horrible imitation," Rachel said consolingly to Michael.

He smiled. "I assure you, ma'am, it's nothing I haven't suffered through fifteen hundred times before." Michael turned to leave. "Oh, and Ms. Rachel?"

"Yes, Michael?" she asked through a mouthful of cheese and pineapple.

"The kitchen called. They just bought stock in the Dole pineapple company based off of your menu choice alone." He grinned devilishly at her.

Rachel giggled. The sound was like a melody to my ears. "I haven't ordered
that
many of these pizzas over the last few weeks, have I?"

I gave her a significant look. "You've had a few. Dozen. A few
hundred
."

Michael tipped his head toward both of us. "You enjoy your weekend alone, you two." He shut the bedroom door behind him.

My phone rang and I answered it at once. "Zane," I said simply.

"Jesus, man, I thought you were dead," Roger said sarcastically. There was music pounding in the background of the call. He was yelling. "You haven't been returning my phone calls in the last two weeks."