Beauty and her Billionaire Beast Page 9

  “The guest rooms are to your left and they each have their own attached bathroom, so feel free to choose whichever one you like most,” he informs me. “It’ll only be the two of us in here. And my master bedroom is at the end of the hall.”

  “All right.”

  “Pops is probably fast asleep. If you’re tired, don’t worry about setting an alarm. He’s up for breakfast super early, but the weekend event staff will pop in to prepare meals and such.”

  I nod and follow him down the hallway to the bedrooms. “Sounds good. Yes, I’m pretty beat. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks.”

  “No?” He puts the bags down and opens the first guest room, flicking on the main set of lights inside. “How come?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

  “You. Us. Seeing you again...I don’t know. That night in the limo.”

  “Right. I’m sorry about that.”

  I turn and lean my head into the bedroom. I’m sure it’s perfect, but I’m curious about what the others are like. This one is gorgeous, decorated in Venetian creams and light-colored vintage furniture, with airy, flowy curtains draped around a king-size four-poster bed. “Don’t be sorry,” I tell him without turning around. “Not anymore. We’ve worked it out and got it all out in the open tonight. I’m pretty sure I’ll sleep like a baby now. Especially in a room like this. Do they all have the same decor?”

  I feel the warmth of his body at my back, and his arms snake around my waist, his fingers lacing together at the front of my stretchy jeans waistband. “They’re all different,” he whispers at my ear, and I feel the stubble of his jaw graze my neck. “That’s why I left your bag in the hall.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  He kisses a spot on my neck and I let out a helpless whimper. “I’ll show you the other two rooms and you can decide where you want to be then.”

  “Okay.”

  “Unless you want to skip all that and just stay with me.”

  I laugh nervously. “Probably not the best idea.”

  “It’s a big bed. And I’m a big boy, Belle. I can behave.”

  “I think I need to sleep alone...I mean, without you tempting me like you are right now.”

  “I’m laying it on thick, aren’t I?”

  “You really are.”

  “All right.” He loosens his grip around my waist, turning to head down the hall. I follow him to the next room, missing his warmth. “This one’s more Avant Garde Parisian style.”

  I take in the subtle palette of neutral linens and blends of gold trim finishes, with accents of red in the artwork. The furniture is all Chippendale style antique pieces, with a minimalist queen-side bed with no headboard. “I like this too,” I mutter, and a long yawn escapes my mouth. “Sorry, seeing all these beds must have an effect on me. Can I see the last one?”

  He walks to the doorway at the end of the hall, bypassing one room. “Take a look at this one first.”

  He slides on a dimmer switch, and I’m floored by the vaulted ceilings, exposed wooden beams painted a dark mahogany, with modern, square chandeliers high above us, a king-sized bed against one wall, with its button back headboard and matching armchairs in one corner, and the floor to ceiling windows looking out at a beautifully lit turquoise infinity pool that seems to stretch into the ocean. It’s dark outside, but the white capped ocean waves are clear in the distance. It’s stunning. I can imagine waking up to the blue ocean waves rolling in.

  “This is your room, isn’t it?” I ask. “The master bedroom?”

  “Yeah. But I’m willing to share. If you promise not to misbehave.”

  “I’ll just take the first room,” I announce and the tremor in my voice betrays me. I don’t trust myself in a bed with this man. I’m liable to be the one who makes the first move.

  “Hold on.” He pulls me close again and kisses the top of my head. “Go ahead. You can stay here. I’ll take the room beside it. Just don’t be too alarmed if I pop in to grab some of my clothes in the closet.”

  “No. I can’t steal your room.”

  “I insist.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Hang on.” He heads back down the hall and brings my suitcase back with him, resting it on an upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. Returning to me, he runs his hand down my back and presses me into his hips. I instantly feel the thick length of his semi hard-on, although I get the sense that his move was more of an innocent gesture than anything. “Sleep well, Belle. See you in the morning.”

  “Good night.”

  “Holler if you need anything. I’ll be in the room you missed.”

  “Thanks.”

  Knox pulls the bedroom door closed behind him as he leaves, and I pop open my suitcase, changing into an oversized t-shirt. After brushing my teeth, I turn down the dimmer switch and climb into bed. His bed. With the covers around me, I feel so at home in this room that I close my eyes and soon drift off, promising that I’ll wake up early enough to take a long run along the beach.

  13

  Knox

  My eyes snap open at the crack of dawn. I’m alert and well-rested from a dreamless sleep. I’m well aware that it’s the first time I’ve slept in this room, and the thought quickly brings me back to the fact that Isabelle is in my bed. Right away, blood rushes to my groin, adding to my morning hard-on. It doesn’t help that I prefer to sleep in the nude. Reaching my hand down my body, I close my fist around the shaft, giving it some relief. I can’t remember the last time I went this long without a good fuck. I’m used to fucking every decent looking woman that flirts with me, but everything is different now.

  I haven’t been with a soul since I had my sweet little best friend in that storage room at the engagement party. I don’t want anyone else anymore either. It’s the strangest thing to me, that my dick is in agreement. Knowing that she’s in my bed right now, her tight little body tucked under my covers, all my cock wants is her. But I already agreed to keep my hands off of her this weekend. She has a point about keeping things low key while her parents, Pops, and other guests are here. But they don’t need to know what goes on in my pool house.

  Getting out of bed, I quickly use the master bathroom, then I slip on a pair of sweatpants from my travel bag. I try to convince myself that my visit to her room is innocent, coming from a place of concern for her wellbeing. But I’m lying to myself. I’m going in there to find out if she’s awake and aroused, and if she is, I want her under me, with her sweet, tight cunt wrapped around me like a hot fist.

  At the door, I turn the knob and quietly push it open. She’s asleep. Curled up with her arms wrapped around one of my pillows, and her head resting on another. Waking her is not an option. Not after her admission that she hasn’t been sleeping since I’ve been back in her life. My stomach was all twisted up in knots last night after she told me. It’s those types of brutally honest confessions that make me afraid that I’ll lose her eventually. I’m doing my best to give her all the space she needs.

  Pulling the door closed, I head back to my room and throw on a t-shirt. There’s a coffee machine in the small kitchen here in the pool house, but I prefer the one up at the main house. Pops is sure to be up by now too, so I’ll check in on him while Isabelle gets her beauty rest.

  I find him sipping an espresso on the second story balcony of the main house.

  “Good morning,” he greets me. “I see you made it.”

  “Hey Pops. Got in pretty late and decided not to disturb you.”

  “Good call. I fell asleep early.” He leans to one side and looks past where I’m standing. “Did you bring Isabelle with you?”

  “I did. She’s still asleep. We’re staying in the pool house.” He puts down the espresso mug and grins at me but doesn’t comment on our sleeping arrangements. I leave it alone as well. “How are you feeling?”

  “You’re not going to start that so soon, are you?”

  “I don’t kno
w what you mean. Start what?”

  “Try not to coddle me just because I’m old and sick. I’ve got a lot of life left in me. And to answer your question this once, I’m doing fine.”

  I shake my head and smile. It’s good to know he still has a positive outlook on things. “What’s on the agenda today? Do you need anything set up in the meantime?”

  “It’s well in hand. Tandy and Joseph will be up here this afternoon. Everyone else is still asleep. The event staff are preparing breakfast, and they have a bar-b-q cookout planned for this evening. The McCutcheons next door invited us to their tag football game later. Until then, kick back and relax. I’ll be here.”

  “Sounds good,” I answer, and turn to head to the kitchen. “I need a coffee. I’ll be back.”

  A text from Foster changes everything. As Isabelle is still asleep, I decide to deal with it right away to put that side of me off to the side.

  * * *

  Foster: Happy long weekend, dude.

  Me: Yeah, you too.

  Foster: How’s the Hamptons?

  Me: Same

  Foster: Isabelle doing okay?

  Me: She’s sleeping.

  Foster: You’re a lady-killer.

  Me: Fuck off.

  Foster: Ha-ha. You ready for next weekend?

  Me: Nah. I’m canceling.

  Foster: Wtf?!? You’re almost the frontrunner.

  Me: They’ll find someone else to fight.

  Foster: You’ll kick yourself if you miss it.

  Me: I’ll be fine.

  Foster: Yeah. Right. Don’t come crying to me after the fact.

  Me: Whatever. I’m out. See you when I see you.

  * * *

  Messages like these are a clear reminder that what Isabelle and I have can end before it even starts. I’m not the kind of guy they write fairy tales about. I want her now, but she can’t expect a happy ever after with this beast.

  Because that’s what I am.

  A beast.

  A fucking animal, brutal, violent, and sadistic.

  Later in the afternoon when Isabelle is up at the main house with Pops, that reality hits me again. I watch the two of them as they sit on the balcony outside admiring the view. She has a mug of hot peppermint tea cupped in both hands, sipping from time to time. Coffee is her drink of choice, but she mentioned waking up with an upset stomach, and explained that she might’ve been fighting a flu or cold all week. It’s blazing hot outside, yet she sits in the sweltering heat, wearing a long sleeved off the shoulder sweater and shorts. It’s sexy as hell. Pops says something to her and she looks over the top of her mug to pay attention to whatever he’s explaining. Then she smiles at him and takes a few more sips before continuing their conversation.

  I don’t know what they’re talking about, but her answer causes Pops to let out a booming peal of laughter that makes it inside through the closed French double doors. I love that they can make each other smile, and hope that one day I can be the one that brings laughter to her face.

  But I have my doubts that I can be that guy for any period of time.

  I sit inside, letting the cool air of the central air conditioning do its work. I need to keep my cool. As I look out at them, Isabelle turns and waves for me to go outside to be with them. I smile broadly but shake my head, mock fanning my face so she knows it’s way too hot out there. For me anyway.

  My mind is still on Foster’s message about the underground fight I’m going to miss. It’s not been three hours since I texted him saying that I’m going to cancel, and I already want to kick myself.

  Who am I kidding?

  Fighting is like breathing to me.

  I can’t do without the thrill of all that adrenaline flowing through me, the feel of pain that tells me I’m still alive and able to throw another punch, jab, or kick, or the overall uncertainty of living moment to moment because no one who enters the ring knows if they’ll stay alive long enough to get to the closing bell.

  That’s who I am.

  Not this mild-mannered, watered down version of myself that Isabelle has seen so far. Although, she knew about the fights back then. She hated knowing that I did underground fighting, and detested seeing me after leaving the ring with a busted face, cuts and bruises all over my body, or having to be seen at a hospital to take care of any internal bleeding, or worse, broken bones. She couldn’t handle knowing that side of me. Since we’ve reconnected, she hasn’t asked me whether or not I still fight, and I haven’t volunteered the information. Sooner or later it’ll come up. She’ll find out and she’ll hate it, and who knows how she’ll react when I let her know that I have no plans to stop fighting for good.

  The same way I won’t put a label on what Isabelle and I are, I hope she won’t put conditions on our friendship.

  Time will tell.

  14

  Isabelle

  It’s late. The clock in the pool house living room reads after midnight. My parents have been here for a few hours, but due to their busy schedules all week, they turned in early with the other older couples who showed up to spend time with Mr. Steele. For the most part, they’ve left Knox and me to ourselves, which I appreciate.

  It’s only Mom who’s been giving me some strange vibes. She consistently nudges my arm or winks at me when she thinks no one else is looking. I pulled her aside to get to the bottom of it, but all I got from her was a reiteration of how excited she was that Knox and I are hitting it off. I’ve made it clear to her that we’re friends and nothing more, but maybe I need to be more convincing. If turning into a convincing liar is possible at this late stage of the game.

  I still can’t believe that I told Knox about wanting more last night. By more, I meant something physical, not a relationship or anything that’ll lead to heartache. Though I’m not built like a man. I can’t fuck and move on. I’ve done a good job so far of avoiding another fuck session with Knox, but that doesn’t mean I’m heartless. It’s actually the opposite. One time with him and I was addicted. I figure that postponing round two for as long as possible will allow me not to become totally hooked on this man. There’s no universe where being the crazy stalker chick is a good look on a woman.

  “Tired yet?” Knox asks from his deck chair right beside mine.

  “Not really.” We’ve been looking out past the infinity pool, watching the high tide as tall waves crash down on the surf. From the angle where we sit, a stretch of shoreline and other mansions are in view. The Fourth of July isn’t until Sunday, but one of the homes over there have kicked off the celebrations early with a breathtaking display of fireworks that fill that section of night sky. “It’s so lovely out here. I’m not ready to turn in yet. How about you?”

  He lifts an ice-cold beer to his lips and take a long sip. “I’m good right here. Do you want a drink or anything?”

  I hug my shoulders and shake my head. “Nah, I’m fine.”

  “Are you hungry? You barely ate at dinner.”

  “I’m good. My appetite’s out of whack from fighting the cold, I think.”

  “Okay good. I was starting to think you were on a diet or something. You’re way too tiny as it is to be on a diet.”

  “No, I’m not on any diet. I’m good. A little chilly, but good.”

  He reaches a hand over to me and rests it on my shoulder. “Christ, your fucking shivering. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Before I can answer, he jumps up and goes inside for a minute, returning with a blanket. “Here you go.” Shaking it open, he covers me with it, but I soon realize it’s wool and shove it off of me.

  “You forgot that I’m allergic to wool,” I tell him.

  “Shit. Sorry.” He picks it up off the textured concrete floor beside the pool and takes it back inside. This time he returns with one of his blue on white striped cotton office shirts, holding it up for me to look at it first. “How’s this?”

  “Sure. That works,” I tell him and slip my arms into the sleeves.

  “Do you need allergy meds or anything?
”

  “No no. The blanket wasn’t in contact with my skin long enough to do any damage.”

  “Thank fuck for that.” He sits in his deck chair. It’s one of those double wide ones, big enough for two people to sit side by side. “Are you good now?” he asks, reaching over to me again, but his timing is off, and his palm touches my shoulder just as I give off a brief full-body shudder. “Shit, Belle. You’re still shivering.”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  “Like hell it is.” He extends his hand to me, palm facing up. “Get over here, you.”

  I put my hand in his and he guides me over to stand between his legs, pulling me into his lap.

  “There’s enough room for me next to you,” I say and point to the empty space at his side.

  “Yeah, well you’ll be warmer if I hold onto you… like this.” He puts his widened palm on my back and lowers my torso onto his chest. His body is so warm from all the rippling muscle mass of his broad chest and thick, muscular thighs. Hell, even his groin is hot. I try to ignore the fact that my ass is curved snugly into his hips, his thick erection hard between our bodies. My head comes to rest on his shoulder. “Better?” he asks, running his palm down from the base of my neck to my tailbone, and back up again.

  “Yes. You’re so hot,” I say jokingly, and hope he doesn’t take it to mean anything sexual.

  “Don’t ever forget it,” he retorts lightheartedly, and places his other hand on my outer thigh, rubbing along its length to warm me up some more.

  My eyelids start to feel heavy and each breath I take is deeper, slower. With my palm resting on one side of his chest, I look up at his face for a moment to find him lowering his face toward me. His mouth covers mine. Again, his touch is so gentle, so warm and welcoming, and he takes his time.

  He cups the back of my head with his hand that was on my back, pressing my mouth harder onto his. What was a soft kiss turns searing hot and demanding as his tongue breaches my lips, burying so far into my mouth that I feel the stubble of his beard on the skin along my chin. I moan into his kiss, and my hand fists his t-shirt. I turn so that my breasts can feel the heat of his chest through our clothes, which I start to hate because they keep us too far apart. I’m desperately in need of more of his skin against mine.