The Billionaire's Con (7 page)

“Of course. They’re my parents.”

“Not everyone is close to their family.”

She nodded, cocking her head as she considered him. “Were you? I know your father passed away when you were young. What about your mother?”

“She died when I was five.”

A stricken expression flashed in her eyes, and she reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. “Oh, God.”

He stared at her hand. With its tapered fingers and clear-polished nails, it looked incredibly delicate over his much larger one. Automatically, he turned his own hand over until hers rested in his grasp, palm to palm. Meeting her gaze, he shook his head at the compassionate empathy in her crystal blue eyes. “It’s not quite the tragedy it sounds. I miss them, but I had a good childhood.”

“But you were an orphan. Who raised you?”

Her voice was sad, which touched something deep in his soul. “My grandmother.”

“You were close?”

“We still are. She’s a tough old girl, but she has a heart as big as they come.”

“You love her.” Her pixy face beamed a soft smile. “That’s nice.”

The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. If Meggy was who Elizabeth believed her to be, he was sitting here becoming more and more intrigued by a woman who had more right to his grandmother’s love and protection than he ever had. Despite warning himself against letting it happen, he had become fascinated by a woman he’d set out to destroy. A woman he found himself wanting until he couldn’t think straight. What a mess. “She’s my family,” he said finally.

And possibly yours. He hoped she’d take his love for Elizabeth into consideration once she learned the truth.

Chapter Eight

The corridors of Boston Garden were crowded with fans, waiting in long lines at the many concession stands or moving toward the tunneled openings to find their seats. Trevor stopped to purchase a beer for each of them while Meggy propped herself against the wall close by to people watch. When he rejoined her, and handed her a large cup full of golden brew, she could only shake her head. “We just finished eating.” She eyed the hot dog and large popcorn he carried. “Are you still hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.” He shook his head in resignation. “Quick metabolism. But, the hot dog isn’t strictly for my stomach.”

“Excuse me?”

His shoulders moved in an accepting shrug. “It’s tradition. The last time I caught a game and didn’t have one, the Celts were blown out by the Magic.” He frowned. “I won’t make
that
mistake again.”

She stared wide-eyed. “I’d say you’re a bit closer to rabid than you want to admit.”

His pale eyes sparkled. “Did I mention I bleed green?”

That made her laugh. She jerked her head in a
follow me
motion. “Come on, Roger Rabid. I promised you a treat.”

He flipped over the floor seats, and they spent the next three hours cheering on the boys in green to a home town victory. Driving home through the night, they discussed the current roster and argued over possible off-season trades and the draft. They agreed on, and hoped for, the possibility of another title this season.

“I had fun tonight,” she said as he pulled to a stop in the Palmer House parking lot. Quiet descended on the interior of the vehicle when he switched off the ignition.

“So did I.” He brushed the curve of her cheek with the tip of one long finger. “It’s early yet. Would you like to come over to the carriage house? I’ve got a nice bottle of wine in the fridge.”

Pleasure coursed through her at the idea of continuing the evening and at the unspoken question in his eyes. It seemed too fast to be feeling what she was for this man, and yet she’d expected this was where they were heading from the moment she’d first placed her hand in his.

Jumping into bed with every man she shared an evening with wasn’t her habit, but she wasn’t exactly a blushing virgin either. Her experience wasn’t vast, and she’d dated both men for weeks before she’d finally gone to bed with them. Still, what she’d felt for those other men held no resemblance to what she’d been feeling from the moment she’d clapped eyes on Trevor Bryce.

She sighed. Ultimately, whether it happened tonight, or in a week, or even a month, she knew they’d eventually become intimate. The pull between them was too strong to resist. With Trevor, she found she didn’t want to resist what he made her feel. She wanted to experience the act of making love, when love was actually part of the act.

Her heart did a fast, spiraling roll in her chest. No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t fool herself into believing she was in love with him. She wasn’t. But she could be with a little time. The possibility should scare the crap out of her, but she found she didn't want to pass up the opportunity to take the next step and see where it led.

You’ve lost your mind, Calhoun, the voice in her head warned, and she couldn’t help but agree. With a mental shrug for the loss of her sanity, she looked him straight in the eye, and embraced her own madness. “Are you inviting me to your bed, Trevor?”

His fingertip grazed over her bottom lip. His pale gaze burned. “I believe that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

In the close darkness of the car, she nodded and leaned across the console to press her lips to his before opening the door to climb out. She waited while he skirted the hood, and when he held out his hand, she folded her fingers with his.

He led her to the carriage house door, flipping the switch just inside and flooding the apartment with light. “Are you sure about this, Meggy?” His gaze bore into hers. “Because once I close this door, there won’t be any going back, for either of us.”

Her answer was to step into his arms.

His head lowered until their lips meshed, and she felt him reach out blindly to push the door closed behind her. The blast of heat that ripped through her at that first touch of mouth on mouth seared away any shyness she expected to experience with this, their first time together. Though they were new, the sensations and textures of the pleasures assailing her were somehow familiar, as though he’d touched her just there, pressed against her that way, and kissed her like that, a thousand times before.

She rose on her toes, pressing closer, and her moan matched his at the full body contact. One large hand dropped to her bottom. Her feet left the floor. Her head spun. She clung to him, burying her hands in his hair and wrapping her legs around his trim waist.

“From the first time you turned your fairy smile on me,” his deep voice rumbled, “I’ve wanted to bite this spot. Here.” He bit down gently on her full lower lip. “Right, here.” With his tongue, he soothed the nip.

Her laugh was throaty and ended on a dizzy squeak when he moved suddenly, spinning with her clamped to him by a muscled arm below her bottom. With long strides, he crossed the room and lowered her to the bed.

“I don’t have a fairy smile.” Humor was full in her denial as he followed her down to cover her body with his own.

Braced on one arm, he leaned over her and traced her lips with a callused fingertip. “Baby, I half expected you to start casting fae spells the first time you smiled at me.”

Delighted laughter escaped her at his whimsy, and he covered her mouth with his, capturing it. “You taste like sunshine,” he murmured.

He
was the one casting spells. What else would explain this sudden leaping of every nerve ending in her body? She felt as though she were floating, even as she shimmered with pleasure at the weight of his big body pressing her into the coverlet beneath her.

The brush of his fingers left gooseflesh behind as his fingertips skimmed the tender flesh of her throat, continuing down over the soft material of her sweater. They paused at the tightened peak of one breast, those talented fingers circling the hardened nub through the layers of cloth. And then he was cupping her, his large hand measuring the generous mound. She was helpless against the shock of sensation and arched her back to increase the contact.

Her mind was already dazed with pleasure when his mouth left hers.

He pulled back to look down into her half-closed eyes. “I want to look at you.” He slipped his hand beneath the hem of her sweater. She nodded and his hand moved upward, baring her belly to his view.

She caught a flash of molten silver as his desire-darkened eyes followed the movement of his hand.

Then he leaned down to nibble at her bare middle.

The delicate skin at her navel quivered at the contact with his testing tongue. His laugh was dark at her involuntary response.

Brushing his cheek against her sensitive skin, he turned his head to look up at her. A stormy gray-eyed gaze met hers. “Let me see you, Meggy.”

In silent consent, she reached for the hem of her sweater. His hands joined hers to help strip it away. She shifted her shoulders to aide in its removal, laughing at the sight of the green wool sailing through the air when he tossed it aside. A smile remained on her face, even as she reveled at the sight of his gaze growing even darker as they roamed over her.

“For such a tiny little thing…” He brushed his fingertips along the swell above her lacy bra, “you’re well blessed here. So soft,” he whispered, caressing the quivering mounds.

“Trevor,” she breathed.

“What is it you want, little fairy?” He curled the tip of a finger under the lace. “This?” He rubbed at the straining tip.

The word she spoke was both plea and moan. “Please.”

He tugged at the strip of sheer lace until a turgid nipple popped free. The stab of his tongue against the tightened bud made her back arch up off the bed, her arms coming down to capture his head. She moaned at the pull of his mouth on her as though he meant to swallow her whole.

The front clasp of her bra snapped free without her notice, and his mouth moved to her other breast, treating it to the same loving attention. With mouth and fingers, he worshiped the bountifulness of her until she felt her own blood thicken within her like warmed honey. A whimper escaped her lips at the loss of sensation when he lifted his head, even as her frantic fingers jerked at the sweater covering his chest, desperate for the feel of heated flesh.

He sat up to strip the offending garment over his head, and the sight of all that dusky, sculpted skin had her scrambling up onto her knees.

“What’s good for the goose...” Greedily, she pressed her palms to the muscled planes of his chest. Like a blind woman, she learned his form, palms savoring, brushing at the light dusting of springy hair here, fingers testing, pressing into pads of muscle there. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

She spread her hands over the wide expanse of warm skin and couldn’t stop herself from leaning in to press a kiss to the skin over his heart. Her questing fingers found one tiny nipple in the dark spray of hair, and she licked at it like a kitten, humming her pleasure. His low groan of response thrilled and delighted her.

With a grin, she straightened. She sat back on her heels and met his heated gaze. “I’m still wearing my boots.”

“You have entirely too much on.” A big hand to her chest sent her sprawling onto her back. Her laughter pealed through the quiet apartment as he went about addressing the situation. Stripping her of her boots and jeans, he fingered her lacy panties. “I approve of your choice of underwear, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the lacy green material covering her. “But these need to go.”

Dizzy with anticipation, she fingered the button of his jeans. “They go when these go.”

With an urgency that had her laughter returning, he jackknifed until he was flat on his back. He shed himself of his own boots and jeans with more motion than grace, and then rolled to his side to look down at her once more. Sliding his fingers down her flat belly, he slipped the lacy panties down her legs until she lay naked under his hot gaze. “So much in such a little package.” His eyes were the color of a turbulent winter storm when they met hers. “You’re beautiful, Meggy.”

“When you look at me like that, I
feel
beautiful,” she admitted artlessly.

His mouth covered hers in a searing kiss, and she lost herself to the feel of her lover’s hands on her. He explored her textures with gentle strokes, touching her everywhere until she was writhing with need beneath his talented exploration.

When a long finger plunged inside her, his groan was low and ragged, and she felt herself slipping toward explosion. Frantic, her fingers clawed at his briefs, shoving them down his hips to be kicked aside.

“Inside you, Meggy.” His voice was a guttural growl. “I need to be inside you.”

Heartily agreeing, she could only nod. She watched him cover himself with a condom from a packet waiting on the bedside table.

Then he mounted her, seating himself between her thighs.

Molten silver smoldered down at her from his darkened eyes.

“Watch me while I make you mine, fairy girl.” And with an utterly male smile, he slid inside her.

The feeling of coming home left her shattered and wholly unable to control the frantic race toward paradise. His stormy gaze held her captive, and she eagerly followed him when he began to move into unspeakable pleasure.

She tried to hold back the looming completion, wanting to savor this first time, joined completely with him, but it was hopeless. Her muscles tensed, and she called out to him blindly as she imploded, shattering into a million flaming pieces to swirl aimlessly on the winds of ecstasy. She was nearly deaf to his triumphant cry as he joined her there.