Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL) (9 page)

“Do?”

“Yes. Do you sell them to a local florist or something? You have so many.”

He walked behind her a few steps, his gaze on her instead of the roses. “I . . . sometimes I have Eldon show them. And sometimes I cross them, to try and see if I can create a new variety. But I mostly like growing them.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled. “I would have never pictured a big, strong guy like you as a gardener.”

He blushed, his gaze skidding away from her again, a sure sign that he was embarrassed. “I enjoy plants,” he said simply. “They are far easier to understand than people.”

“Most people are assholes,” she said bluntly. “I think that’s why I prefer writing. Or baking.”

His mouth twitched and, for a hopeful moment, she thought he might smile, but it was quickly contained again. “Did you come out here to discuss the merits of books versus roses?”

“Actually, no.” She straightened and turned to face him. “I wanted to come out here and ask you if you were going to come to dinner tonight.”

“I . . .” His voice died and his gaze slid away again. “Perhaps.”

“Oh, come on,” she said softly. “I can tell you all about my day. It’s been most interesting.” Her voice had taken on a soft, almost sexy purr.

The effect on Hunter was startling. His gaze flew back to her, his eyes wide, one eyebrow lifting as if to voice the question that he wouldn’t.

She took a step closer to him, gratified when he didn’t back away. “You know all those letters I’ve been transcribing? It seems that my two historical figures had a rather torrid love affair.”

He said nothing. His was attention was frozen on her face, and she saw that strange mixture of fear and longing flicker through his eyes again.

Feeling bolder, Gretchen slid a bit closer to him, her voice husky. “What’s even better is that they describe, in rather blatant, sexual detail, what they want to do to each other. Isn’t that . . . interesting?”

Hunter’s lips parted, and Gretchen thought for a moment that he might break the distance between them and drag her against him in a wild kiss. Her pulse fluttered with excitement at the thought, and she found she desperately wanted Hunter to kiss her. Tongue the hell out of her mouth and toss her down into the dirt and claim her. She wanted to see that reserve of his shatter.

“What do you think?” she prompted.

“I . . .”

“Yes?”

He bolted away, turning his back to her. As she stood there, all soft and full of need for him, he stormed across the room and began to jerk on a pair of ugly, thick gardening gloves. “I’d like for you to leave.”

Disappointment crushed her fledgling desire. She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes at his retreat. “So I take it dinner’s off?”

“I . . . no. I will think about it.” But he wouldn’t look over at her.

“Suit yourself,” she said softly. “I’m off to go read more letters. I hope to see you tonight.” She sauntered out of the greenhouse before he could say anything else.

He was an utterly frustrating and confusing man. She knew he wanted her. She’d seen the desire in his eyes. The need. He wasn’t married or dating anyone. She wasn’t either.

So why was he fighting this so very hard? It didn’t make sense.

Was it possible he just didn’t like her? That was depressing to think about. Gretchen sighed and returned to the library, discouraged and unhappy.

She worked quietly for hours, cataloging letters and reading through them. Engrossed in her project, she didn’t notice that someone had entered the room until the door clicked shut again. Her head lifted, and her gaze settled on a tray that had been left on a table across the room.

It was a vase filled with roses. Every single one she’d casually touched this morning while in his greenhouse had been cut and placed in a gorgeous crystal vase. Unable to help herself, Gretchen moved to the roses and leaned over to take in their scent.

A note was on the table.

I will be there.

Gretchen smiled to herself. Maybe Hunter was interested after all.

***

“
It sounds like he likes you,” Audrey told her over the phone. “But it sounds like he’s shy.”

“You think so?” Gretchen dragged one of her T-shirts out of the closet and winced at how ratty it looked. Why hadn’t she brought more dresses? “He’s just so hard to predict. I can’t forget how he freaked out when I asked him about his face.”

“Maybe he’s just a loner. I mean, he’s friends with Logan and his buddies, but out of all of them, he’s the most remote. Doesn’t attend any parties they give or anything.”

“He’s definitely a loner,” Gretchen agreed. “But there’s something so incredibly . . . remote about him. Most loners seem happy to be by themselves. He just seems a bit lost.”

“Yeah, Logan says that he’s not the friendliest guy, but he’s very true once he lets someone in. He’s always very polite to me, though.”

She’d forgotten the fact that Audrey’s boss was friends with Hunter. “I didn’t think he ever left this house.” She thought of what he’d told her—the kidnapping. His utter loneliness. The way that the staff kept to assigned wings so as not to “bother” him.

Gretchen had never met someone quite so alone as him. It made him strangely vulnerable despite his icy demeanor, and it fascinated her as much as it made her want to touch him. Show him that he wasn’t alone and unlovable.

“Of course he leaves his house, Gretch. He has a billion-dollar real estate empire.”

“Yeah, but does he have to do anything for that other than just, I don’t know, own property?”

Audrey giggled. “You really have no idea how billionaires work, do you?”

“I don’t want to know, honestly. All that money just seems like a lot of hassle.” She pulled a plain black sweater out of the closet and held it against her. A bit worn, but it’d have to do. “So did Logan tell you about his past? The thing with the scars and the kidnapping?”

“Nope. No one talks about it, apparently. No one except you.”

“Yeah, me and my big mouth.” She tossed the sweater down on the bed, and it landed on a curled-up Igor, who meowed in resentment. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked. But I was curious.”

“Well, leave your curiosity at the door. From what I can remember from meeting him, he doesn’t like it if people so much as look at him the wrong way.”

“Jeez, Audrey, exactly how many times have you met this guy?”

“A handful of times. Like I said, he’s one of Logan’s closest friends.”

“And you never thought to give your sister the cliff notes rundown on the man?”

“Well gee, Gretchen, I didn’t think you’d want to bang the guy.”

She sighed deeply. “Is it weird that I’m finding the scars sexy?”

“Yes,” Audrey said flatly. “They’re not cute scars, Gretch. They’re disfiguring.”

“Yeah, but they have a story. He has a story. I like that about him. I just can’t figure him out.”

“Have you considered that he might be a virgin?”

“What? He’s not a virgin.”

“Why does that seem so crazy?” Audrey snorted. “You said he blushes, right? And doesn’t look you in the eye? And that he was scarred at an early age?”

“Yes, but—”

“You think he’s going to get a lot of ladies with a playbook like that?”

“But he has to be close to thirty, if not already thirty. I can’t believe he’d still be a virgin. Can’t you hire hookers for that sort of thing?”

“Gross, Gretchen. That’s just gross.”

“I know, but we were both thinking it.” Gretchen stared into her reflection in the mirror, considering. Was the reason why Hunter kept shying away from any sort of flirtiness that she tossed his way because he didn’t know how? Because he was a virgin?

That seemed weird, and yet . . . the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. He’d been kidnapped when he was ten. Something like that would probably leave him with trust issues and emotional scars, not to mention the physical scars. He’d freaked out when she’d seen him naked. And he’d freaked out again when she’d come close to kissing him. He’d also froze like a deer in headlights when she’d flirted with him.

And he’d stared at her note like it was the thing he wanted most in the world. “You might be on to something, Audrey.”

“Of course I am,” her sister said smugly. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“You mean, hold him down and take his virginity?”

“No! Yuck! Gretchen, that’s a visual I did not want.”

“You brought it up. What do you mean, what am I going to do about it?”

“I mean that the man’s skittish as hell. If he’s a virgin, you’re going to have a hell of a time getting him to come on to you.”

“So I’ll come on to
him
.”

“But you said he retreats every time you try to get intimate. Perhaps he doesn’t want you to come on to him. Maybe he wants to be the aggressor and you’re not giving him a chance? Is there a way you can level the playing field?”

Gretchen thought for a moment and became a little depressed. The playing field hadn’t been level since she’d seen him naked that very first day. There was no way to recover from that. “I’m not sure.”

“He might be off balance and afraid to make a move if he thinks you’re sexually experienced and he’s not. Can you pretend to be a virgin?” Audrey sounded amused at the thought.

“Har de har. I just need to think about it.”

“About pretending to be a virgin?”

“No. About leveling the playing field.” And somehow getting Hunter to forget that she’d seen him in the natural state.

“Good luck, whatever you do.”

Gretchen hung up the phone and chewed on her lip. She looked into the mirror and played with her wet hair, still dripping from the shower. Dress sexy? Nah. She didn’t have the right equipment. It was like Audrey said: Hunter would be off balance around her and continue to be off balance unless she did something to “level the playing field” as her sister had claimed. So that was what she needed to do—get them on equal ground. Somehow. She’d seen him naked, though.

An impulsive idea flashed through her mind and she immediately shut it down, hugging her robe closed. He’d run for sure if she did that.

There was a knock at her door.

Gretchen adjusted the belt on her robe and went to the door, but didn’t open it. “Who is it?”

“I . . . me. Hunter. Buchanan.”

As if there would be a dozen other Hunters at her door. Biting back her smile, Gretchen opened the door and glanced out at him. “Hi there.”

He was dressed in a black suit, a black shirt underneath, and a dark gray tie. His hair was impeccably smoothed into a part and he carried sunglasses in his hand. Behind him, a large man easily seven feet tall stood behind him, dressed in equally dark clothing and wearing his sunglasses. Gretchen had never seen him, and alarm immediately rose. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Hunter said. He glanced backward at the man behind him and gave a brief nod. “Leave us.”

The man nodded and headed down the hall, his back to them. Gretchen peered out the door, watching him. Then she looked at Hunter. “Who’s that?” she whispered.

“My bodyguard.”

“I see. So you’re ditching me tonight?”

Two spots of color flushed in his pale cheeks. “That’s not what I . . . that is, I—”

“I guessed it as soon as I saw the suit. Though I admit, you do clean up nice. I’m a little sad the suit isn’t for me.” Not that she’d ever seen him wear anything but suits, but her flirty words seemed to be working. He was definitely blushing.

His gaze moved, darting about the room, looking anywhere but at her. “I came to give you my apologies. I can’t make it to dinner tonight. A business meeting was scheduled and I find that I cannot move it.”

“No worries.” Gretchen twirled one of the ends of her robe. “Thanks for letting me know, though.”

He shifted on his feet, and then tugged at his collar, seemingly more uncomfortable by the moment. “I would, however, like if we were to meet for dinner tomorrow night instead.”

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

“Good.” His voice was curt. “Very good. Good. That’s . . .”

“Good?” she offered. He was adorable.

He gave her another scathing look, but Gretchen only smiled. She was starting to realize his defense mechanisms. God, why had she not seen this before? Suddenly it was so obvious . . . and so sexy that she drove him so crazy.

She took a step forward, wanting to tease him a little. “May I?” She gestured at his tie.

He looked down at it, frowning.

“It’s crooked,” she lied, moving forward and pretending to adjust the tie. It was more or less an excuse to move into his arms and see how he’d react.

He stiffened, but didn’t move away.

She took that as an encouraging sign and continued to adjust his tie. Then she smoothed a hand down the front of it, noting the hard muscle underneath. “All better.”

Hunter’s attention was definitely on her now, and she noticed the look in his eyes was hungry. It emboldened her and made her think of her outrageous idea from earlier.

“Hunter?”

“Hmm?” He seemed distracted, almost dazed.

She reached for the loose collar of her robe and pulled it open. Stepping back, she flashed him her breasts.

He stared, frozen in place.

“Now we’re even,” she told him lightly. “The field is leveled. Enjoy your meeting tonight.”

And she closed her robe and sauntered back into her room, grinning the entire time.

Chapter 6

One week later

The trouble with a flirt battle was that both parties had to actively participate. Both parties had to know
how
to actually flirt.

And Gretchen had been flirting her head off, but she was getting nowhere fast.

It wasn’t that Hunter wasn’t interested. If anything, he seemed more interested than ever. But when she teased, he froze up. When she coyly suggested things, he shut down.

When she’d made him dinner, he’d stared at her in silence, and her attempts at conversation had fallen completely flat. Her pleasure at showing him her cooking had been deflated by the fact that he’d looked as if he’d wanted to escape the room.

And yet . . . she continued to get roses every day. Delicate, scented blooms that were thoughtfully selected for her, along with a note inviting her to dinner. She’d declined it once or twice, just to see how he’d react.

He hadn’t reacted at all. And that had been even more frustrating.

She’d tried being sexy. In fact, she’d offered to help him in the greenhouse one day and had unbuttoned her shirt, declaring herself overheated and exposing a lot of skin. All she’d gotten was an abrupt suggestion that she take a shower and him turning away.

Not exactly the reaction she’d wanted. She was utterly mystified. How could she break through to him? She supposed she could state it baldly.
I’d really like it if you and I did a little mutual exploring. I’ll even go first.

But she was enjoying the challenge. And screaming out that she desired him seemed almost like a cop out. Plus, he’d probably run for the hills.

Virgins were so much trouble.

The letters weren’t helping things, either. Now that things had escalated between Lula and Benedict, they weren’t holding back at all. Letter after letter went into great detail of what Lula would do to Benedict with her mouth, and how she’d please him. He’d write pages back to her, describing how he’d like to lay her down under the trees, spread her petals wide, and lick her nectar clean. By the time she finished a day of the letters, Gretchen was squirming and overheated, her imagination on fire. She kept picturing Hunter as Benedict, and herself as Lula. Each graphic description left her breathing hard and her panties wet.

There had to be a way to get through to Hunter.

***

I
t was during one of their frequent dinners that Gretchen found a chink in Hunter’s icy armor.

Her phone rang while they were in the midst of a quiet conversation. Surprised, Gretchen picked up her phone and gave an apologetic look to Hunter. “I should take this.”

She rarely got calls out of the blue, so any sort of call concerned her. Especially if it was coming from Cooper’s Cuppa.

“Hello?”

“Gretch? It’s me.”

She glanced down the table at Hunter, who seemed to be staring at a painting on the wall and trying very hard not to listen in on her phone conversation. “Hey Coop. What’s up?”

“I was calling to, well, check on you. See how you’re doing.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said brightly. “The project’s coming along really well. I might even finish early.”

Hunter accidentally sent his knife skidding, the silverware clanking.

“That’s great news,” Cooper said enthusiastically. “I’ve really missed seeing you.”

“I’ve missed seeing you, too.” She watched as Hunter picked up his knife and gripped it, his knuckles white. “It’s weird being away from everyone,” she added to defuse the statement and make it friendly instead of romantic.

“When you come back, I . . . I think I’d like for us to have a nice talk.”

Her mouth went dry and Gretchen panicked. “Oh, Coop. I just . . . I don’t know. Can’t we just let things go as they do?” Her gaze slid back to Hunter, who was still staring at the painting. “Can I call you back some other time? Now’s really not great.”

“Oh, of course. I just . . . you know. Wanted to tell you that I missed you. That’s all.” His sad puppy voice grated on her nerves.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” she said, and hung up. Picking up her napkin, she folded it in her lap again. “Sorry about that.”

“Boyfriend?” he asked, and the word was almost a growl.

Gretchen’s eyes widened. That was . . . interesting. It was almost a reaction. Should she push harder or lay off? She decided to push a little harder. “A male friend. He misses me.”

“Then perhaps it’s a good thing that you’re finishing early,” he said abruptly. He stood, tossing his napkin to the table. “I won’t keep you from your work any longer.”

“Oh, but—”

Hunter turned and stalked out.

Gretchen sighed heavily. Good Lord, but the man was prickly. She sat at the table a moment longer, toying with the casserole on her plate. She didn’t want to leave things like that. Didn’t want Hunter spending the evening all annoyed and frustrated. She’d had her share of frustrated evenings herself lately.

Tossing her napkin down on the table next to his, she stood up and pocketed her phone, determined to find Hunter and talk to him.

She headed to his wing of the house first, but all the doors were shut, and no one responded to her knocking. He was either not there, or simply not answering. Before she’d give up, she’d try one more place.

Hugging her sweater close, Gretchen headed down the long walk to the greenhouse. There was a light inside, and one of the doors was eased open just a crack. Curious and a bit nosy despite herself, she moved forward and peered through the crack.

He was across the room, standing near one of the beams that kept the arched roof of the greenhouse aloft. Hunter’s back was to her, one hand clenched above his head and resting on the beam, the other against his side. His entire form seemed curiously tense, his head bent forward as if he were struggling with something.

She bit her lip.
Damn.
Surely he wasn’t that upset over a phone call? Hell, that would be uncomfortable in the extreme. What did she do now? Gretchen stepped inside, just as he tilted his head back, and she caught sight of his face, which was full of tension. The hand at his side jerked a bit more.

And she realized he was masturbating.

Gretchen froze for a moment, shocked. He’d retreated out of anger—or jealousy—and she’d expected to see him seething as he pruned his roses. She’d expected to argue with him, cajole him to see her side, and maybe they’d walk away on better terms.

She’d never imagined that she’d catch him pleasuring himself.

It shocked her senses as much as it aroused her. She felt herself grow slick with excitement, and she barely resisted the urge to stroke herself between her own legs in response to his movements. She moved forward, her steps quiet as she carefully shut the greenhouse door behind her and approached him. He hadn’t noticed her yet. His shoulders seemed to be aching with tension and need, his entire form tense.

She moved forward and lightly touched his shoulder, heat coursing through her.

He jerked around, startled. Hunter’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated with need, the scars on his face flaring white against the red of his cheeks. His hand was still curled around his cock, and he stood there for a moment, as if too shocked to move.

And then he began to pull away from her.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

Her fingers curled in his jacket and she held him there. He seemed frozen in place, like a wild animal caught by the barest of tethers. One wrong move and he’d snap, retreating. She didn’t want that. She wanted to touch him.

Her hand slid down to cover his, where he grasped his cock. “Is this for me?”

His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.

“I think it is,” she said softly. “May I touch you?” She knelt before him, not caring that she was kneeling in the slightly damp, slightly muddy path in the center of the greenhouse. All she knew was that she wanted to touch him—to pleasure him. To give him something that would blow his mind.

She really, really wanted to blow his mind.

Once she was kneeling, she slid her other hand up his thigh, her gaze moving up to his face. He seemed paralyzed in a rictus of yearning and . . . fear? Of what? The scars were livid against the high color in his face, the slashes marring the beauty of his features.

Very slowly, she uncurled his fingers from around his cock, releasing his grip. “I want to get a look at you,” she told him in a low voice. “It makes me wet just thinking about this. I remember seeing you, naked and gleaming from the shower, though you weren’t as big then as you are today.” She ran a finger down the length of him, from root to tip, idly exploring.

Pre-cum slid down the head of his cock in response to her touch, and Gretchen sighed with pleasure.

“You’re very big. I like that. I imagine when I take you in my throat, it’s going to be hard to take you deep, isn’t it? I’m going to have to work to fit all of you.” Her fingers brushed against his sac, then she clasped the base of his cock, measuring its girth. “You’ll have to be patient with me.”

And she leaned in and swiped the slick head of his cock with her tongue.

A full body tremble moved through him, and she noticed the hand at his side clenched into a fist. Gretchen looked up at Hunter. “Do you want me to stop? Or can I keep exploring you?”

“I . . . no. Keep . . . going.” His words sounded almost strangled, the tension on his face incredible.

“Good,” she purred, giving his cock a stroke of her hand, squeezing in a mimic of his jerky earlier motions. She heard his sharp intake of breath and was pleased.

And because she wanted to torment him a little more, she leaned in even more and put her mouth on the head of his cock again, sucking the large tip of it into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the crown, enjoying the salty, pleasing taste of him and the way his hand spasmed at his side in response.

Gretchen flicked her tongue over the slit and worked her hand against the base again, gazing up at Hunter. “I love touching you. Tastes so good. Do you want to touch me?”

“I . . .” His hand clenched again.

“It’s okay,” she told him in a soft voice. “Maybe this time I’ll just touch you.” She took him into her mouth again, rubbing her tongue against the vein along the bottom of his cock and taking him deeper into her mouth, then pulling back.

Suddenly, his hand was in her hair and he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair.
Oh, yes.
Gretchen felt wetness flood her panties in a fresh wave, and she moaned at his touch.

He flinched and pulled away.

She released him from her mouth and shook her head. “I like it when you touch me. Show me what you want. Please, Hunter.”

And she let her lips rest against the head of his cock, looking up at him and waiting.

The look in his eyes was a mixture of frenzied longing and . . . something else. Anxiety? She wanted to make that look go away, but it would take time. For some reason, sex made the man skittish. She’d have to be patient.

And she waited.

Ever so slowly, his hand moved back to her hair, all the while his cock pulsed in her hand. His pulse was beating so strong she could feel it through his hot skin. Then he gave her head a subtle nudge forward.

He wanted her to take him deep.

She parted her lips, letting the head of his cock push into her mouth. He groaned again and pushed her head forward with more force.

She took him deep into her mouth, but she hadn’t been stroking his ego; he was big and thick, and she couldn’t take him to the root, not at first. Slowly, she worked him deeper, relaxing her jaw and letting each stroke push a little more, until he was hitting the back of her throat and her lips were meeting her hand, which was still curled at the base of his cock.

Hunter’s entire body began to tremble again and he bit out a curse. He tugged on her hair, trying to pull her backward. “I . . . no. Gretchen . . .”

He was going to come; she knew as much based on the tension in his body and the way he struggled for control. And she wanted to let him know it was okay. So she moaned again and sank deeper onto him, relaxing her jaw to take him deeper.

“Ah!” His hand tightened in her hair, and then she felt his hot come filling her throat. She ignored his efforts to pull away, digging her fingers into his slacks and holding him there until he’d finished.

He panted above her and, with a shudder, the tension left his body.

Gretchen released him, swallowing again, her own body wired with need. It wouldn’t happen tonight, she suspected. It would be too much for him to take in. Tonight was all about Hunter.

His fingers slowly released her hair from their stranglehold and then he reached out and caressed her cheek.

“I . . . ,” he began.

She got to her feet, nearly swaying with how much she wanted him. Her core ached, her pulse throbbing with need. She forced herself to ignore it. “Don’t overthink it, Hunter. Just enjoy it.”

“Gretchen.” The way he said her name was so husky that it made her wet all over again.

She bit her lip and brushed her fingers over his mouth, careful to avoid the scar that tugged down the one side. “Goodnight, Hunter.”

And she turned around and left.

It was the most difficult walk she’d ever done. She wanted to run back to him, bend over the nearest table and present him with her slick, aching sex, demanding that he take her. But Hunter was skittish. He’d bolt if she overwhelmed him.

There was something that filled him with anxiety and some sort of idea that he was hideous—his scars, probably. It was something that had affected him so much that he chased most people out of his life, lived in a big lonely house with no one but a grouchy butler, and avoided the world.

She’d take her time with him. It was important to her to show him how delicious he was and how wonderful sex could be.

And so she’d be patient. Or try to, anyhow.

***

Goddamn.

Hunter leaned against the pole in the greenhouse, his entire body feeling wrung out.

Had he imagined it all? That had to be it. Surely reality didn’t hold a place where someone as beautiful and sexy as Gretchen approached him in his greenhouse while he’d jerked on his cock, desperate with need for her. Reality didn’t include scenes like that. Nor did it have her kneeling in front of him, taking him in her mouth and finishing for him.