Personal Delivery: A Billionaire Secrets Story Page 5

  I’m not, really. Or at least I haven’t been historically. Jake is the fourth guy I’ve ever been with. But I was totally easy for him. Maybe it’s the start of a new and exciting trend.

  I grab the sweater, then throw it back on the bed. The plaid shirt over a tank top would show off some cleavage. Probably covering my entire torso in an inch of fluff is the wrong message to send if I want to get over Jake with the help of a snowboarder.

  I pick up the sweater again. Nope. I don’t want to do that. Not yet.

  “Jana!” My sister sounds exasperated now.

  Great. I take a deep breath as I round the top of the staircase.

  “I can just sign for her,” she says, and I shake my head. I already know what the driver’s going to say.

  “Sorry, ma’am, but this requires the recipient’s signature only.”

  I trip over my feet, because while I was totally expecting those words, I was not expecting that voice.

  Jake.

  In Vermont.

  Then I smile.

  Really, really big. Because how is he going to explain suddenly having a delivery route in Vermont, at my parents’ ski chalet?

  I smirk to myself and hurry down the last flight of stairs. For the first time in a week, I don’t curse the fact I had to sleep in the small bedroom on the third floor. Otherwise he’d have had the upper hand in this encounter, and after three weeks of almost complete silence, that wouldn’t be right.

  Of course, he did call me beautiful on Christmas Eve. That was nice. On the other hand, we haven’t spoken again. He doesn’t know how lucky he is that I’m wearing the fluffy sweater.

  “Jana!” My sister turns as she hollers, and I stop right in front of her.

  “Yes?”

  “Delivery.” She points to the door. “But…”

  I step around her and check Jake out for myself. Oh, I get the but now. He does in fact have a package for me—and not the dirty kind. A familiar cardboard box is in one hand, and his SwiftEx clipboard is in the other.

  Something important is missing, though. “Where’s your uniform?” I ask, swinging the door open.

  He steps inside, suddenly taking up all the room in the small foyer. Big and broad and impeccable in black. Intense, too. Suit-Jake operates at a different level than Uniform-Jake. His jaw flexes as he gives a little shrug. “Too cold in Vermont. They banned them.”

  My lips twitch. Suit-Jake has a dry sense of humor. “And gave you all Armani suits instead?”

  “It’s Hugo Boss.” He gives me a weird look and I give him one right back. He grins. “Hi.”

  And there’s the Jake I know. The butterflies that had flocked to the ready in my tummy now take off. “Hi.”

  He holds my gaze for a moment, then drops his attention to my lips—shivers—and then breaks away to look around the foyer. “So…skiing, huh?”

  I want to drag him to a dark corner and kiss him senseless, but I don’t know where we stand. So I take the more sensible approach and stick with the cover story he’s provided. I point to the package. “Actually, I have work to do. So if you want me to sign for that…”

  He hands over the clipboard and I gesture for my sister to close the door behind him. I ignore the what the fuck look she’s trying to shoot me. I don’t know what exactly is going on here, either, but the parts I do know are mine and mine alone.

  He leans in as I scrawl my name. His voice is low and tugs at something hot and hungry inside me. “Any chance you’re free for lunch?”

  Yes, are you crazy? Of course I am. But I don’t say that. I smile to myself and keep my face down. He doesn’t need to see how pleased I am. “You don’t have other deliveries to make?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Oh?” It’s mock-innocence. I can put the pieces together. I know he pulled some rank to bring me this package. I know who he is, and he’s obviously not pretending anymore, but he hasn’t said that, and it’s weird. I know you’re worth the GDP of a few small nations, and that’s kind of freaky. Yeah, I can’t bring it up. I’ll bungle it.

  “Jana…” His voice is suddenly low, rough, and loaded with meaning.

  I slowly lift my head.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “I…” I do a quick mental count of the rooms in the condo. My room is technically private, but it’s up on the third floor and that feels very high-school for the conversation I think we’re going to have.

  There’s no way I want to traipse a billionaire up three flights of stairs to sit on a twin bed and have a conversation I’m sure my brother and sister will try to eavesdrop on through the ventilation system.

  I shake my head. “Not really.”

  He nods. “Okay. We could go to Starbucks. I saw one back there in the Santa’s Village-esque center of town.”

  Uh… He’s dressed like something straight out of Wall Street and I’m… I glance down. Okay, I’m presentable. I’m wearing black leggings and these extra-long wool socks that look like men’s work socks, with the red stripe around the top, but they’re the perfect length to peek out the top of tall boots.

  It was the perfect outfit when I was planning to hit that very same Starbucks to do some work.

  Now it’s leggings next to Hugo Boss.

  We’re so mismatched it’s not funny. But I don’t want to do this here, so Starbucks it is. I grab my parka, pull on my boots, and follow him outside.

  Instead of a SwiftEx truck, there’s a stretch limo at the foot of the path.

  I skid to a halt.

  He stops with me, even though it’s thirty degrees out and he’s not wearing a coat. “What is it?”

  “I miss the uniform,” I blurt out. “And the truck. I can handle that Jake. He was—”

  “More your type?”

  “Not exactly.” More my league, but I don’t want to say that out loud. I don’t want to point out how not in his league I am.

  “Funny story.” He steps closer and tugs at the open edges of my coat. “I’m not really a SwiftEx driver.”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “Was it the suit?”

  “Well, I don’t know if it was the same suit. Probably not. You probably wear them once and then donate them to homeless vets. But yeah, it was a suit. On you. On the news.”

  “Ah.” He has the good graces to look chagrined. “How long have you known?”

  “The morning after…” God, why am I blushing? It so doesn’t matter. “You know.”

  “I had to go back to New York.”

  “I saw.”

  “I’m sorry for not being honest.”

  “Whatever. I bet telling chicks you’re rich is kind of weird.”

  “They usually just know.”

  “Oh, great.”

  He laughs, and I don’t want him to laugh. I don’t want him to be comfortable with this reality because I am so not. “Jana, I’ve missed you.”

  “Okay.”

  “That’s all you’ve got?”

  “Well, I’m…funny. And you know, my sock collection is amazing. So yeah, of course it makes sense that you missed me. Your life is obviously lacking in jokes and socks.”

  He leans in, his breath puffing in the freezing air, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Very much so.”

  “Jake—”

  Whatever protest I was going to weakly offer disappears as he kisses me. It’s rough, but it’s right, too. The confusing push and pull between excitement over seeing him and nerves over not being enough fades as he hauls me close. One arm wraps around my hips, the other around my shoulders, and his grip is possessive. I like that, a lot. But the best part is the slightly out of control way he pulls at my lower lip with his teeth before teasing into my mouth with his tongue, hot and dirty and demanding.

  Like he just can’t help himself.

  And the groan he makes as I lick back at him, because I’m hungry for this too? That’s amazing. I press up on my toes. I want him to make that sound again. I want to make him make all t
he sounds.

  Groans. Grunts. Dirty words that slide into desperate moans.

  We don’t need to go to Starbucks. We need to be alone, stat. “Jake,” I whisper as I lick my way out of his mouth.

  He squeezes my butt as he drops his head to my neck. “I know. Coffee.”

  “No.” God, no. “How discreet is your driver?”

  Between us, his erection flexes. He exhales roughly. “I’ve got a hotel room.”

  “That’s even better.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jake

  I had a whole seduction plan, but that’s gone out the window. Good. Plans are overrated.

  My driver is waiting when we reach the car. I give him a terse instruction to take us to the hotel, then help Jana into the warm limo.

  Then I tug her into my lap and out of her parka.

  She looks like she walked off the cover of a Land’s End catalogue, if Land’s End sold sex. I tell her that and she laughs.

  “I’ve missed that sound,” I say tightly, because every part of me is wound up right now.

  “Oh?” She leans in and brushes her lips against mine. “You could have called.”

  “I should have.” I catch her lower lip between my teeth and her breath hitched. “I was busy. Not an excuse, but I couldn’t spare the time to come and explain in person, and I didn’t want to…pretend.”

  Instead of pulling away, she leans in and kisses me, slow and deep. She licks her way into my mouth, and I think, this is not the same woman I left in Baltimore. When she eases back, it’s only far enough to look at me. She slowly slides her index finger across my bottom lip, wet from her mouth. “Here’s the thing, Mr. Aston.” She catches the corner of her lip, her top teeth sinking into pink flesh, and beneath her lap my cock thumps his approval of her using my whole name. “This might surprise you to know, but all the major news networks do a pretty comprehensive job of covering your companies. I don’t always pay attention, but now that I know who you are, I take note. So I know you’ve been busy.”

  That’s more of a pass than I deserve, but I don’t care. I’ll take it. And the name works for me in a big way, too. “Call me that again.”

  “Mr. Aston?” Her voice is all breathy now. I don’t care if she’s putting it on for effect.

  “Yeah.” I’m reduced to caveman grunts.

  She sways toward me again and I grip her hips. Every sense is heightened as her body brushes against mine. It’s like a drug. I want more of her nearness. More of her body, more of her scent.

  Fuck. I guide her exactly where I want her and it feels damn perfect. Her leggings are thin enough for me to feel the curve of her muscles, the softness of her ass, and right against where my cock strains at my suit pants, the heat of her pussy.

  I don’t grind into her. I don’t need to. I’m thick and hard, and the way she’s breathing, she knows it. I curse again in my head, and maybe out loud, because she jerks her gaze back to my face.

  We’re in the backseat of a limo and the tension is zapping like we might strip down right here. Can’t wait five fucking minutes.

  I wouldn’t even need to get her naked.

  I could—

  The limo pulls to a stop and Jana jolts, then scrambles off my lap as she lets out a quiet, nervous giggle and pulls on her parka.

  Yeah. Shit, but even the jolt of reality does nothing for my erection. I cup the back of my neck and think about stock numbers.

  That helps right up until she puts her hand on my knee. “Come on then, Mr. Aston. Show me your fancy hotel room.”

  I let her lead until we’re in the lobby, which is nice, but not the Plaza. Then I press my hand into the small of her back and guide her to the elevator. “It’s not that fancy,” I murmur against the curve of her ear. “But it’s private. And that’s all that matters.”

  At the base of her neck, her pulse jumps.

  That makes up for everything about this rustic Christmas-themed town that doesn’t have a decent penthouse.

  “So we’ve determined that I’ve been busy, and lonely.” I grin down at her as she leans into my side. “You’ve been good?”

  We’re alone on the elevator, but she still pauses before she answers. “I’ve been…distracted.”

  “By?” I slide her parka open. Her sweater underneath—fuzzy, pale pink sabotage for questing fingers—limits what I can do, but her collarbone is bare.

  She shudders as I trace the edge of where her sweater meets her creamy skin. “You. What we didn’t do that afternoon.” She licks her lips as I raise a line of goosebumps. “What I want you to do—”

  Ding.

  The elevator doors slide open and I guide her out, my legs moving fast now, because there are a lot of ways she could end that sentence and I like every single one.

  I’ve got a loft suite at the end of the hall. Halfway down the hall, Jana twists to look at me, a smile on her face, and my hand slips from her back to her elbow.

  She turns her arm and as my hand drops, she slides her fingers through mine and squeezes my hand.

  I want to fuck this girl into next week. I want to get on my knees and bury my face between her legs. I want her screaming my name because I’m sucking on her tits.

  But her holding my hand hits me on a whole different level.

  There’s what I want to do—so much, over and over again—and then there’s this, which is fucking sweet, and probably unconscious for her.

  It reminds me we come from two different worlds. There isn’t much about me that’s sweet. I’m ruthless. Demanding.

  And when it comes to Jana, I already know I’m hungry. Maybe just as much for the sweet as anything else.

  I glance up and down the hall. We’re alone.

  “Come here.” I pull her to me, keeping our hands together. Her eyes widen and her lips part. Making her react like that? Fucking addictive. I lift her fingers to my mouth and kiss her knuckles, then press her back against the wall as she exhales. Another sound I love. She stretches onto her toes as I slide our hands up the wall, pinning her in place.

  Then I kiss her. Hard, fast. Demanding and hungry. Ruthlessly. I put everything I am into the kiss, showing her with my mouth what I don’t know how to say out loud. I’m a hard man who wants to take everything she has.

  I’m not adorable.

  I’ve never been into hand-holding, although if anyone could convince me otherwise, it’ll be Jana. Hell, she may have done it with one touch.

  She says my name when I pull back. Her voice is breathy and hitching, and her lips are swollen.

  Our hands are still entwined and pressed against the wall.

  I want to lean in and kiss her again. She has other ideas.

  “What are you waiting for?” She wiggles her fingers free and slides out from under my arm. “I believe I was promised a private hotel room where we could act out all my filthy fantasies.”

  Okay, so maybe she’s not a completely incurable romantic. I slide my room key out of my pocket and wrap my arm around her, palming her ass as I scoop her into my side

  She leans right into me and brings her mouth to my ear as I try to get the door open. “I owe you an orgasm, Mr. Aston.”

  Right. Game on.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jana

  In any wild and crazy plan, there’s a moment when you realize, oh shit, I don’t actually know what I’m doing.

  Given that this is my second middle of the day hook-up with Jake, I shouldn’t be nervous. And I’m doing a bang-up job of pretending I’m not. Fake it ’til you make it is something I’m really good at.

  But I can’t trick myself that much, and I’m totally faking it.

  I don’t know what I’m doing as he opens the door to a decidedly not-fancy hotel room, not that I care in the least. Hell, the limo was nicer than most hotel rooms I’ve stayed in. And frankly, all I can see right now is Jake and his wicked, sinful grin.

  A grin that says I owe him a…blow job? Hand job? Bent over the couch job?


  I’m down for all of that, but do I just do it? Drop to my knees? Actually, that sounds like a great idea. Sink to your knees, I tell myself, but I don’t pay attention, because I can’t move. I’m pinned in place by that grin as the door clicks shut and Jake prowls toward me.

  His hands unbutton his suit jacket. That is ridiculously hot. I like the uniform. But I think I lied when I told him I missed it. This whole suit thing really works for me. The perfect tailoring. The casual way he shrugs it off and hangs it over a chair.

  His gaze never leaves my face as he magics away my parka—poof—and then lifts me up, his hands on my hips, my ass. He carries me through the suite, kissing me like he just can’t get enough.

  Okay, this is good. This is familiar I-can’t-get-enough-either territory. And I’m happy for him to take charge again. He knows what he’s doing, clearly.

  But… “Do you want me to—”

  He spanks my ass as he plants a foot on the first step of the stairs. “I want you to hold on tight, wild thing. I haven’t forgotten the beast fantasy.”

  Holy shit.

  Holy. Shit.

  Yes. Okay, this has to be a dream, because I am not this lucky. I squeeze my thighs around his hips and wrap my arms tighter around his neck, but he’s got me. He takes the stairs quickly, and the next thing I know, he’s laying me down on a bed.

  A really big bed.

  In a big, private room.

  It’s totally quiet, and I can’t hear any of the hotel noise.

  Which means probably nobody is going to hear our noise, either. “Wow,” I breathe. “So we’re alone. And…orgasms are imminent.”

  He grins down at me at the same time as he slides a hand under my sweater. “That’s the plan.”

  I shiver as he ghosts his palm up the trembling flat of my stomach, over the curve of my ribs, and finds my aching breast. His gaze turns hooded and dark as he traces around my nipple, then tighter to the peak as I arch into his touch.

  Touching. I want to do that, too.

  “Take off your shirt,” I whisper.

  He makes a noncommittal noise and leans in to kiss me. I let him, because I’m easy like that. But I really want to see him naked.