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Unbidden, like a fiery fist to his soul, flashing green eyes struck against his heart, the memory of the desire darkened emerald eyes shot through his mind, making his cock jerk in his trousers.
Well…almost celibate.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, standing on end, even as the snap of electricity shot through him, stealing his breath.
What—he dragged in a breath, a staggering dizziness hitting him upside the head—was that?
And as if by some kind of insidious black magic, the face that had haunted him for the last six months appeared below him.
Heart seizing, blood rampaging, body tingling, soul singing, he stared down at the face of the woman who’d stared in every single one of his dreams—sweet daydreams and filthy midnight fantasies over the last six months. Having no idea who she was, he could only surmise why she was there.
What was she doing at his party? Where had she heard about it? From whom? And why was she there? The surge of excitement at seeing her again was quickly drowned by a flood of suspicion, a deluge that quickly drowned him in soul-ravaging muck. Despite all his fantasies about her, his deep and agonizing wishes to see her again, he hadn’t just conjured her in his home. There was more to it than that. There had to be. And that meant outside forces were at work. Forces he couldn’t control. And he hated that because that meant her appearance couldn’t be a coincidence. Not after all that had happened in the last several months; the media storm, the women crawling from the woodwork trying to “snag” the billionaire bachelor divorcee, and the other women greedily seeking money and fame by telling anyone who’d listen that he’d knocked them up. After five years of marriage, Sly was suddenly the hottest topic and swinging dick on the eastern coast of the US.
Finally dragging himself into the moment and away from thoughts best left in the quagmire of his immediate past, he stared, once again, at the woman who couldn’t possibly be there. Who shouldn’t be there. A woman who’d stepped right from his dreams and into his reality, one he couldn’t believe she was sharing with him.
This cannot be what I think it is.
Gold digger coming looking for gold?
Impossible—the woman he’d met that night months ago hadn’t been interested in money.
Yeah, the fuck, right. When have you ever been lucky enough to have such good fortune in anything pertaining to relationships?
Voicing what his brain was screaming, he fought the urge to jump over the railing.
“What the fuck?” Sly snapped, his gaze caught on the woman who’d just slunk her way into his house, her emerald-eyed gaze flitting around, no doubt trying to figure how much she could take him for now that she’d found him.
You don’t know that. That isn’t fair to her.
Since when was life fair to him? Just his luck that the one woman he’d found something more than sex with and she simply walked into his house months after he left her sleeping in her bed. Either she was mad he’d disappeared, or she was looking for another round—maybe both.
Or she’s hoping to cash in with a fake pregnancy, which was apparently all the rage in billionaire bachelor circles. Now that he was one of them, he had to watch out. His spicy, sweet, memorable one-night stand from Jackson Key just might be one of them.
No! Not her. She’s not like that. Something about the thought of her doing something like that rang false. Then again, how could he trust himself to make good, honest decisions after he’d jumped into marriage with Yolanda with both feet and no reservations?
The woman from Happy Jack’s bar couldn’t possibly be as amazing and incredible as he first believed her to be. No one could measure up to his first impressions of her. Not even her.
Like he fucking knew anything about her—except how goddamn good she felt in his arms, her hot, tight pussy wrapped around him, her succulent mouth pressed against his….
“Fuck,” he ground out under his breath. This was not what he’d expected when he’d opened his home for the company party.
The flash of excitement and heat at seeing her again was quickly suffocated by disappointment and anger.
Another gold-digging opportunist. Good thing I didn’t let my dick keep me in bed that night…even though I’d really, really wanted to stay.
Growling to himself in frustration, he clenched his jaw, refusing to let anyone see him like that; ruffled, emotional.
“Just fucking great,” he grumbled, pulling away from the second-floor railing that looked down over the large, three-story foyer where the party planner was busily welcoming guests.
Invitedguests.
He hadn’t planned to deal with drama tonight—not tonight when he should be celebrating one of the biggest deals of the last two years. After a run of low-risk, high-reward investments that put him squarely in the billionaire’s circle, he’d been ready for something high-risk, something that got his goddamn heart racing and his dick hard—and he’d found it in a little seaside town outside of Tampa. He’d bought some land, schmoozed the mayor’s office, and partnered with a local construction company to build luxury rental properties. The risk in the investment was that hurricanes were unpredictable, and when they hit, they decimated. Also…he’d never put his own money into a project before, and this one was all him. If the project crashed and burned, he’d lose hundreds of millions of dollars. Not a big deal to a billionaire? To him, being a billionaire was just a title the world slapped on the top tier, forgetting that they got there by working for it. And to Sly, every fucking dollar counted. He’d sacrificed too much to lose. But he’d taken the risk anyway.
Now, after nearly eight months of planning and building, he was throwing himself a house warming party in the first luxury house completed by Harris Construction, LLC.
And she was there to cause trouble. There was no other explanation for her sudden appearance.
Maybe all that fantasizing and jerking off in the shower…your bed…your theater room had conjured her.
