His to Have: A Billionaire Romance (7 page)

I snort in laughter. I’m horrified by the noise, but I can’t help it. “I don’t cook,” I tell him.

“Nothing, not even mac and cheese?”

“I always had a credit card, and my parents had a personal chef.”

“Someone once told me that if you can’t really take care of yourself unless you can cook. I’m going to teach you how to cook something.” He pulls out a drawer and picks out a big, curved pan. “Stir-fry. That work for you?”

I nod.
 

Blake places the pan on the stove and heads into the living room. “Come on, let’s go.”
 

“Where?” I ask.
 

“Shopping. There’s a market around the corner. It’s got the best produce around. At least tell me you’ve been grocery shopping before.”

I nod unconvincingly.
 

Blake slips on a light jacket and motions to the elevator. “Where would you be without me?”

I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that question.

The market Blake’s so excited to shop at is little more than a corner bodega. He grabs a basket and starts loading in vegetables. He squeezes them and holds them up in the light long enough to decide whether or not they’re keepers. He tosses me an onion. I barely notice in time to catch it. “Firm with a dry skin,” he says. Then he tosses me a pepper. “Firm with bright color.” He explains each item as we go along, and he seems genuinely excited to share his knowledge with me. “Do you know what kind of wine pairs best with stir-fry?”

“Not a clue.”
 

He grins. “Beer,” he says. “I’ve got just the right one back at my place.” We pay for the food and head back.

“Do you do all your own shopping?” I ask.
 

“No, usually I have someone come and do it for me, but there’s nothing like picking your own ingredients and making a meal from scratch. “The work I do for a living is so abstract that it’s nice to slow down and do something tactile for once, you know what I mean?” He wraps his arm around me and holds me tight as we walk back to his place.
 

Once we’re in his kitchen again, he cracks open two beers and hands me one. They’re cold, and covered in condensation that drips like thick beads of sweat. We clink bottles and I take a deep sip. I can feel the carbonation as the beer rolls down my throat. I take a step back and watch as Blake rinses the produce and lines it up on a cutting board. He starts the flame under the wok and pours some oil. He pulls out a large knife. “Do you know how to use one of these?” he asks. He already knows the answer is no. “Come on over and I’ll show you.” I step up to the counter and he slips his arms around me. He wraps my fingers around the handle. “The key is control. Just lift the back of the knife and bring it down. With your other hand, bend your knuckles and move the vegetables over at steady intervals.” He holds the zucchini and guides my hand as I slice. “Just like that,” he says. He guides me through cutting the peppers and cabbage and onion and I manage not to nick myself or him, which seems like a minor miracle. We toss the ingredients into bowls, and he pulls some chicken out of the fridge.

“Maybe I’ll watch you do this part,” I say. The idea of raw meat grosses me out, but I’m willing to trust Blake’s judgement.

Blake makes quick work of it cutting it into small strips just like the vegetables. He tosses it into the pan and it sizzles.
 
He washes his hands and gets a spatula. “You add, I’ll stir,” he says. “The key is keeping everything moving, just like this.” He works everything carefully as I add in the vegetables. “Now it’s your turn,” he says. Within a few minutes, the entire kitchen smells wonderful, and Blake is adding in the sauce.

“What do we do next?” I ask.

“We eat,” he says, he picks up his beer and clinks it against mine. “Congrats, you just cooked your first meal.” I down the last of my beer and play with the label as he plates the food. I feel a bit of a buzz already, and I grab another drink and follow Blake outside to eat.

We sit next to each other on the terrace. There’s a gentle breeze off the river, and from Blake’s terrace, the sound of traffic and and the low hum of the city sound almost like the ebb and flow of the river itself. I lean against Blake as I eat. I finish every last bite of my meal and I eye Blake’s.
 

“I thought you didn’t like food,” he says. He pushes his plate over and I steal a bite.

“I’ve never had someone cook for me before,” I tell him.

“We cooked together.”

I like the sound of that. “What about dessert?” I ask.
 

“I had few things in mind.” He’s looking at me in a way that says he’s not talking about food. I take another sip of beer, and I can’t tell if I’m getting tipsy or if I’m just that excited about whatever Blake has in store. It’s probably both, and that’s fine with me. There’s no name for what we have together. It’s not love. It can’t be, but it is something, something I’ve never felt before and can’t name, something raw and electric and wonderful, something real. Blake kisses my neck and runs his hand down my side. Then his lips are on mine, his tongue. God, I want him in every possible way.
 

There are no more words, no attempts to explain, only desire, only our mutual need. I’m breathless and frantic and I need him. I pry his shirt open and place my palm against his chest. His heart is racing almost as fast as mine. In the half shadow of the reflected city lights, he grabs my hips and guides me onto his lap. I grind against him, and I can feel his cock straining against his pants. I want to feel him inside me. I want him to slip my clothes off, and I want to feel his bare skin against mine, I want to move together as one. I want that rush and that crash and that release.

“Turn around,” he whispers. I stand for a second, and he pulls my dress off before pulling me back onto his lap. I’m facing away from him, and he has his arms wrapped around me. His arms are warm and strong, and the night air is cool against my skin. Blake’s pants are down around his ankles, and I’m so turned on I can barely wait another second. He slides one hand between my legs and the other up to my cheek. He brushes my hair aside and kisses my neck. I rub against him as he slowly pushes two fingers inside my core. I close my eyes as the pleasure intensifies.
 

“Fuck me,” I tell him between hurried breaths. I mean it, too. I want him to fuck me hard. I want him badly. I want to feel his full length inside me, and I want him to overwhelm me with delight. I don’t know where or how he had it, but he’s ripping the condom wrapper and sliding the condom onto himself. I help him slide it down around his base and give an extra rub before he places his length between my thighs. He rubs his cock against my clit before he pushes deep inside me and the excitement rolls through me.

I close my eyes, and I can’t hear the sounds of the city anymore. I can’t hear anything but my own excited breaths and the motion of Blake against me. I push back against his hips. The pressure is so incredible that I already feel weak in the knees, and I can feel an orgasm starting to rise up inside me. He slides one hand back between my legs and the other over my breasts, playing with my nipples as I gasp in delight.

Then I cry out, “I’m going to—” but my words blend into a long moan as climax rings through my body. I can barely catch my breath as Blake rocks my body up and down with each thrust. I arch my back against him and let the pleasure roll through me. Before long, he has me back on the edge of orgasm, only now the pulsing excitement is overwhelming, so good it almost hurts, and with each motion I can feel the need for release building and building inside me.

Blake sinks his fingers into my hips and pulls me hard against himself as wordless cries of pure pleasure pass through my lips. We move together with frantic need until we drive each other into a long, rolling climax so intense, I feel like it consumes me completely. I lean back against his shoulder and he wraps his arms around me again. I’m almost dizzy when I open my eyes again and look up at the night sky. In Blake’s arms, I feel sexy and needed. He kisses my ear and tells me I’m beautiful. I turn to kiss him, and, when his lips meet mine, I feel that spark of desire all over again. I’m sure he does too. I have the feeling this night is just getting started.

CHAPTER 10

CATHERINE

I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave Blake’s place. Even when he heads out again, I stay behind basking in the afterglow of another mind-bending night together. To his credit, Blake doesn’t ask me to leave. He doesn’t ask me to stay either. He just smiles and kisses me and tells me he’ll be back as soon as possible. I’ve come to hate this morning ritual, but there’s no way around it. He works for a living, and I don’t, and since I’m avoiding my place at all costs, I’m left to wait around for him until he returns.

Except, before he steps into the elevator, he adds one more thing. “I need you to get sneakers and jeans for later.”

“Are you going to tell me why?” I ask.
 

“Not yet,” he says. “Also, get the nicest dress you own.”

“Sneakers, jeans and a designer dress? Is this some kind of scavenger hunt?”

“Oh, and a bag. I promise, you’ll love it,” he says as the elevator doors shut between us.

I call over to my building and give a list to the concierge. Skinny jeans, the only hooded sweatshirt I own, a leather jacket, sneakers, two pairs of heels and the dress. I give very specific instructions about handling the dress.
 

The courier arrives mid afternoon. Thank god I’m not in too much of a rush or I’d be screwed. It should have taken an hour and a half at most for my clothes to arrive, and I have half a mind to tell the delivery guy just how close he came to screwing everything up, but I remind myself that maybe he has a reason for being late, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be considerate for once in my life. The courier is young and a little scruffy with a handsome jaw. He has a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, and I wave him over to the living room. “Toss them on the couch. Thank you.”
 

But he doesn’t move. He stands there, with the clothes slung over his shoulder.

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

He gives no reply. Instead, he pulls off his hat, and I almost fall over.
It’s Ben
.

“Jesus, Ben, what the hell are you doing here?”

“You can’t avoid me forever,” he says. “And I’m just delivering your stuff for you. Consider it a favor, friend to friend.”

“You can’t be here without a warrant.”
 

“You invited me up. I’m just here talking to you.” He looks around. “Nice place, though, isn’t it? We think we have enough evidence to make a move soon. You need to get as far from here as possible. I’ve been doing everything in my power to shield you from this investigation, but if you’re here when they bring him down, you’ll get pulled into this. I know you think that losing your spot as queen bee is the end of the world? Wait until you’re getting charged as an accessory to Blake’s crimes.”

“What crimes? You keep saying that.”
 

“Insider trading, stock manipulation, money laundering, the list goes on and on. We have people on the inside, Cat.”

Damien
. Is that what they were doing together?
 

“This whole thing is a lot closer to you than you even know.”

“It goes back to Carlisle Capital,” Ben says. He walks around the couch and keeps looking around.

“Do you have any direct evidence?”

“We will soon enough. We have enough for a warrant, and we have enough to suggest that he knew of malfeasance as early as three years ago.”

“He couldn’t have,” I say. “You should go.”

“Did you look around for yourself?” Ben asks. “I mean, seriously, look around.” He swings his arms wide open. “Do you really think he just was so much smarter and ballsier than everyone else that he built this fortune from nothing.”

“You have no proof,” I say. “Give me even one shred of evidence. You can’t. I’m not going to betray Blake and go behind his back because you can’t do your job.”
 

“He’s got the vast majority of his personal money in shell corporations. He’s moving it around, hiding it. The numbers don’t add up. I’m telling you. He’s hiding something, and he’s hiding something big. We’re coming for him, and you can’t be here.”
 

“You said that weeks ago.”
 

“We’re coming tomorrow, Cat. Go home. Save yourself.”
 

I can’t, and I’m not the only one who needs saving. Ben is standing on the other side of the room, looking right into my eyes. He’s pleading. I know the expression. I know that pain. If only he understood what I had at stake here, if only he could see the world as more than right and wrong and money and power, maybe he’d understand why I have to stay, why I have to believe in Blake, why I have to do everything I can to save him. Ben was out of my life for years, but as he looks at me across the room, we’ve never been further apart.

“This isn’t about you and me, Cat. This isn’t about whatever happened or didn’t happen between us. This isn’t about how things ended. I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I fucked up and I was wrong, and it’s been years, but I’m trying to set at least some small part of it right. Do you really think it’s a coincidence that I’m working this case? Is it really just chance? I don’t think so. I’m not trying to win you over or change your mind or even make amends. I’m just trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to be your friend. You know, you go on and on about friends and you can’t even realize when one is standing right in front of you.”