Love Me Billionaire Boxset Page 19

  “Turn around,” I asked softly. “Let me see your face.”

  She turned around in my arms and her green eyes were so big, so vulnerable. Then the tears spilled and she reached for me. “I’ve been followed before you know. Marcus. He used show up wherever I went. I stopped going out because of it. He was jealous.”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m sorry.” I caressed her back, massaged the tight muscles of her shoulders. “It must have been awful for you. And it all came up again with Brigitte coming after you.”

  She grunted. “I told you, James. I am a mess. Things set me off, and I fall apart. That’s why I had to quit teaching. There were too many people. Too much stress. I was always on edge. That’s why I’m hiding here in the carriage house.”

  “I didn’t mean to bring you out of hiding. I didn’t mean to bring Brigitte down on you. What can I do for you? How can I make it better?”

  “I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to feel like this.”

  My heart ached for her, for her pain and helplessness. “I can help you with that. If you’ll let me.” I cupped her face in my hands, letting my thumbs wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Will you let me do this for you?” She smiled, almost laughed, through the tears, and nodded.

  I kissed her. Soft. Putting all my love for her into the kiss. All the hopes she made me feel, the belief in a better future, a better world. The strength to be myself and love what I loved. The peace to just be. We only touched at the lips, and my hands on her face, and I gave her my love.

  She let out a broken sigh. “Oh James, I don’t know how you did it, you terrible, lovely man.”

  “What did I do?” I kissed one eyelid, then the other. She grasped my wrists, holding onto me.

  “James, James, James…” She surged up to me, her hips thrusting into mine as she claimed my lips with her own, desperate, longing. I felt how she wanted me, as if I were the spring after a long, hard winter, as if I were new green shoots pushing up through frozen ground. “James,” she gasped, wrapping her arms around my neck, not letting me get away, although I wasn’t going anywhere. “You made me love you.”

  I gasped. The words settling onto my soul. Longed for. Spring indeed. A new world. Rebirth. We could be anything. If she loved me.

  “I didn’t want to, James. I didn’t. I wasn’t supposed to. Why did you come in that door? Why you?”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” I said, my hands roaming over her waist and hip, so happy she was barely wearing any clothes. “It’s my house.”

  She burst out laughing, throwing her head back, and I captured her pulse with my tongue.

  “I think it was that. That you make me laugh. That you make me forget being sad and broken. That you make it okay. How much of a mess I am.”

  “It is okay.” I liked this spot on her neck. It smelled of lavender. And honey. It tasted like salt. “I told you. I like your mess. You keep calling me a liar, but I love that you don’t try to pretend. You make me feel like who I am is your friend.”

  “I am. I am your friend. And I missed you. I didn’t know I missed you. I missed you so much, James.” She was crying again.

  “No no no. Sweetheart. Don’t cry. We’re making you feel better remember?”

  She pulled away from me then. Sat up. I reached for her, wanting her touch back on me. Instead she swiped angrily at her tears and reached for my shirt. “Then take off your clothes. Feeling your body against mine will make me feel better. All better. Come on get naked, rich boy. You gorgeous man.” She pulled my shirt over my head and attacked my fly.

  “Hannah, sweetheart, you don’t have to…”

  “I do have to, James. I don’t want to be sad and weak anymore. I want to be strong again. I want to be me. Now strip.”

  I peeled off my pants and briefs because I wasn’t going to disobey her, for sure. And she nodded, her eyes bright with something other than tears, which was my goal. She reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, tossing it onto the floor. I was not going to argue with that, either. I reached to touch her, salivating to get my hands and lips on her beautiful round breasts, but she slapped my hand away.

  “No. I’m in charge,” she said.

  I felt a growl start low in my chest. Anticipation. Desire. I licked my lips and nodded. “Whatever you want, love, it’s yours.”

  She pushed me back on the bed, naked, and peeled off her panties, dropping them to the floor before climbing over me and straddling my hips.

  “Can I touch you?”

  I watched the images roll through her mind, her lashes fluttering. Instead of saying yes or no, she took my hands and placed them where she wanted them. On her hips, my thumbs on the crease of her legs and my fingers splayed over her ass. I could work with that. I squeezed her and she reached down between her legs to take me in her hand. I groaned as she worked me and then, without preamble, she slid down onto me.

  She was wet and tight and hot, and I muttered words but I did not know what they were. She threaded her fingers through her hair and arched her back, then started moving. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. She rode me fast and hard and her face flushed a rosy pink with her arousal. I watched it travel down her chest to her breasts as they bounced. I could do nothing but watch her, gripping her hips, encouraging her. She moaned, and the sound went through me, I could barely hold on. She threw her head back and took her pleasure from me. Took her life back. Took control.

  “James,” she murmured. Her eyes met mine and locked on. They looked like jade. She shifted, taking me deeper, and I groaned with the feel of it. Hannah leaned forward, both hands on my chest now, the friction beautiful. “James,” she said again, desperate, riding her edge. “James, please.”

  “You got it, sweetheart,” I murmured, not letting her look away. Her need was so deep. Her hunger so all encompassing. Her feelings rocked me to the core. “Come for me. Come for you. Take it.”

  She whimpered. “I want your fingers.”

  I smiled, and a low sound broke from my throat. I wanted my fingers on her and shifted them to where our bodies met. I gave her the pressure she needed and rubbed a tight rhythmic circle into her center.

  “Yes,” she said, “yes,” our eyes locked, and she came, hard, letting loose a scream as she bucked, and her arms crumpled, exhausted, she collapsed against me. She lay sweating and gasping against me and I thrust my hips up into her. She groaned. “Don’t stop, James. Don’t. I’m all worn out, but don’t stop.”

  “God, you’re beautiful. Do I get to touch you now?”

  “Please,” she gasped, “yes.” I rolled her over, and kissed her, my hands roving all over her body. So soft. So warm. So sleek. My home. “Yes,” she said against my lips, “Please, James.” She clutched at my back. “I love you, James. I love you.”

  She was my home. “I love you.” She swallowed my words and arched her back as I thrust into her again and again, she wrapped her legs around my ribs to take me deeper, deeper. I fell into her, we fell together, tangled in each other. I did not think I would ever be able to get loose from her.

  We lay gasping and exhausted. She held me to her as I tried to roll off. “Stay,” she said.

  “Mmm, always.” I rolled to the side and tucked her under my arm. “Let’s just stay here and never leave this bed again. We can hide together.”

  “What if hiding doesn’t work?”

  “Then we face the world together.”

  She sighed sadly.

  “No, sweetheart. Don’t be sad.” I kissed everywhere I could reach until she smiled again and clasped me to her. I settled back, pulling the covers over us, loving the feel of her body against mine, the way she clung to me, as if she never wanted to let me go. “Neither of us slept well last night, let’s take a nap, and when we wake up, we’ll be ready to take on the world, okay?”

  She just looked at me, her lips curved into a gentle smile that I couldn’t read. She let her fingers flutter over my face, tracing my eyebrows, my cheekbones, running down t
he slope of my nose, as if she were trying to retain the shape of them in the memory of her skin. She let them slide over my jaw and settle on my lips. I tried to kiss them and she pulled away. “Sleep,” she said.

  When I woke up, she was gone, and in her place, was a letter.

  James, what I told you last night was true. I love you. I don’t know if it’s new or has always been there but realizing it makes everything worse. I’m not ready for us. When I told you I was a mess, I was trying to tell you about who I was. I can’t be with you right now. I know you want to ride in and save me, but you can’t save me from myself. You need to deal with your divorce and I need to deal with my mess, and I don’t think we can do those things while we’re doing whatever it is this is. Please, give me some time alone. You don’t need to hide with me, that’s not who you are, and I couldn’t bear to bring you down to my level. I do love you. I don’t think I can stop now, but I can’t be with you.

  Philomena Hannah Cleary,

  the girl next door

  “Dammit,” I swore, as my heart sank like a lead weight.

  Chapter Eight

  A week after the last time I saw James, I still had to fight my compulsion to go to him. To hold him in my arms. To kiss him and let him make me laugh. I wanted to eat cheese puffs and play with dogs and talk about classical Greek literature because I’d never gotten to tease him about his library before everything fell apart.

  When someone knocked on my garden door, I couldn’t risk that it was him, because if he were standing at my back door, I would pull him into the carriage house by his collar and never let him go, nevermind that my brain said I had to be responsible and stand on my own two feet and get my mess straight before letting him into my heart. My heart didn’t care. My heart said it was too late; he was already there, inside my defenses. The knocking came again.

  I called Bette on her cell phone. She picked up almost immediately. “Is it you?” I asked.

  “Yes, it’s me, please open up. James isn’t even home today. He went into the office.”

  I sighed in relief and longing and opened the door. Bette was there, lanky and lithe, in jeans and a white blouse, with her long dark hair flowing loose. She held out two cloth sacks. “The groceries you ordered.” Even as a delivery girl, she was always so poised and beautiful. I was jealous.

  “Thanks, Bette. I’m so sorry. I used to work for you and now you’re delivering my groceries.”

  She shrugged and shook her head so her dark fall of hair shivered. “Yeah, well it’s my fault you can’t go to the store because the paparazzi are after you. I shouldn’t have forced you into that party, knowing that heinous bitch the way I do. I should have known.”

  “She hasn’t bothered me. Like James said. I haven’t seen her at all.”

  “But the paparazzi are following you.”

  A zing of nerves crept through me. Anxiety. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I felt dumb. It was just people taking photos. They wouldn’t hurt me or anything, but I couldn’t get over the feeling that I had to run and hide, that I was in danger. I smiled at her, wondering if she could read the tightness of my smile and knew I was faking it. I thought James would have. “Yeah, thus, my asking you for grocery delivery. How are the dogs?”

  “They miss you. You can come to see them. You don’t even have to go in public. Just come through the garden.”

  The groceries were getting heavy. I didn’t look at her. “I can’t risk seeing him, Bette.” My voice caught in my throat, and I swallowed heavily.

  “He won’t bother you. He promised me he wouldn’t. He said he’ll leave you alone until you’re ready because he trusts you to know what you need.”

  “He said that?” I bit my lip. He was such a good man.

  “I told him I would kill him if he hurt you, and he said he wouldn’t because he loves you.” Her dark cascade of hair hid half her face as she leaned in towards me but she looked fierce like she would do it, to protect me.

  The tears that were too close to the surface lately welled.

  “Tell me,” she said, her hazel eyes metallic in their intensity, like bronze daggers. “Tell me what he did. I will end him. He’s always been a little jerk. I have no compunctions.”

  “Don’t. Please don’t, Bette. It’s not his fault. He didn’t hurt me. He’s wonderful. I think I hurt him.”

  She shook her head impatiently. “Nothing hurts him. Everything just slides off his back, and he comes out looking like roses. He’s the golden boy, and he always has been.”

  “Don’t believe it, Bette. There’s more to him than people know. Even you. He loves you, but he knows the game you play. Your family. You’re always on guard. You’re always wearing masks and aware of people watching you and acting like you’re perfect even when you know you’re falling apart inside. You know it’s true, the way they’ve always been at you, the both of you to be the proper kind of representative of the family. They disowned you. Over what? Being gay? As perfect as you are, and that wasn’t enough. You had to fit into their world or leave.”

  Bette’s face went slack. I watched her own mask slip. Perfect Bette. She was in pain too. She played the party girl, too cool to let anything hurt her, but she was a girl whose parents didn’t love her enough. And I wanted to pull her into a hug and tell her I loved her and she’d always be my family. Only she’d never allow me to do it. And if I couldn’t be there for James, I couldn’t be there for Bette, either. So I smiled instead and looked her in the eyes. “He may not think you’re out to get him. He may want to take care of you, but the two of you still play the game. I’ve seen you, the way you tease and threaten and boast and posture. It’s an act, and the two of you know you’re playing it, and that you won’t hurt each other, but the walls are still there.”

  “We don’t,” she said, her perfect face shocked.

  “You do. Your shields are born and bred. But he’s not like that with me. He was wide open to me. And…” she could not keep it down. The tears choked her. “I think I hurt him.”

  “So you’re saying you’re the one I need to kill. To protect him.” I could tell that I had thrown her. I could see the movement in her throat as she swallowed hard. No one was supposed to talk about serious things with Bette. She was the party girl. No one was supposed to talk about pain. She pretended hers didn’t exist. But it did. Just like James’ did. And they both played that billionaire game so well everyone was conned. But I knew. I’d gotten past the walls. I loved Bette. And I loved James. And I wanted them to be happy and brave and loved. I bit my lip.

  I nodded, “You should. You should kill me because I broke his heart. I wish you would. You should protect each other. If I’m not there. I need you to protect him. And I’d like him to take care of you, too. The two of you can stand up to your family. To Brigitte. To the whole world.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m not your family. I can figure this out on my own.”

  She shook her head in pity, maybe the pity was for herself. “So you love him, and it hurts. And he loves you, and it hurts. I don’t know if it’s worth loving people if they just hurt you. I keep thinking I want to find some pretty girl to love and then I see what love does to people and I think, ‘hmm, maybe alone is better.’ Maybe I don’t want to touch that and get burned.”

  For a while, it seemed like it wasn’t better to be alone. Not when James existed in the world. It seemed like being with James was happiness, but then that got so complicated and my mess rose up and took over. I had to agree, maybe Bette was right. Alone was better. Safer. “Do you want to come in and have some...” I looked into the grocery bag, “... organic cheese puffs?” I couldn’t help but smile. Remembering.

  “Those are for you darling,” Her perfect mask was back in place. I was astonished by how easily it slid into place. She and James had been playing the act all their lives. It was second nature to them. I couldn’t imagine being that composed. “Besides,” Bette peered into the carriage house, with all t
he curtains pulled tight and the lights off. The stacks of books, art supplies, and a basket of laundry I hadn’t folded and put away yet, I was definitely hiding. “This place is like a tomb. A very cluttered, stuffy tomb. You need to open some windows, get some fresh air… or did the paparazzi find your address? Are they bothering you? Is that why you’ve pulled all the drapes?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Or I don’t know. I feel paranoid now, I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. I think. Um. I don’t know. I think I saw someone out there, watching, but it’s a busy street. People are everywhere. I don’t want to risk it. I’m probably just paranoid.”

  “That bitch actually came after you, so I think you aren’t really paranoid if people are out there watching you. Just be safe. If you need anything come to us.”

  “I don’t want to…” How did I tell her that if I saw James I wouldn’t be able to stay away from him? I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my conviction to be alone, because I wanted him so much. He made me feel good, and brave and strong. I felt like that was cheating somehow. If I couldn’t be that person on my own, then Marcus was right about me the whole time. I really was just a pitiful weakling who wasn’t strong enough to make it without him.

  Bette must have seen my face. She leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Do you want the dogs? They’d make you feel safer. They miss you too. And you can see how they are. You can babysit them!”

  I laughed. “No, keep the dogs. If I feel too weird, I’ll just go through the garden and come running to you.” I didn’t think I’d need to. I knew I was paranoid, but it was good to know they were there. I hugged her. “Thanks.”

  Bette left. Just to be sure I really was paranoid and making worries up, I went to the front window curtain and peeked out.

  Still, there was a shadow in that doorway. Like there had been all day. It hadn’t moved. Had it been there before and I just hadn’t noticed it, or was there really someone there? Were they there watching me?