Billion Dollar Revenge (The Lincoln Brothers #2)

19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Chelsea

Stepping into his home, I take it all in. Wow. It's exactly what I imagined?grand, beautiful, my dream home. I could imagine watching all my crappy shows on that sofa.

"Is it what you pictured?" he asks.

"Better. My dream is to buy a place of my own.”

“What would it look like?”

“Wooden floors, a big open kitchen, and a comfortable sofa.”

“So, exactly like this?” He points to the room with a chuckle.

I laugh and look around at the simple modern house with big furniture, but it’s lacking vases, photos, decorative plates, figurines, or collectibles. I want more of a lived-in feel; this feels a little too clean and staged.

“You don’t have family photos around,” I say, scanning the furniture and walls for one.

“No, I don’t.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t gotten around to it.”

I gasp, shaking my head at his confession. “You need to add some of your personality in here.”

“I bet your house is full of knick-knacks.”

“This may surprise you, but I’m not a hoarder. Just normal stuff, like photos on the TV console, beside my bed, and on the walls.”

“I have a handmade poker table.”

I snort. “That’s not the same.”

“My mom has a lot of keepsakes around the house.”

“What about a drawing or painting from school?” I ask, remembering my parents sticking mine and my sister’s all over their fridge, and my bedroom wall was covered with posters of my favorite bands.

He shakes his head. “I guess she threw them out.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Brutal.”

“I guess now that I think about it. But at the time, it didn’t bother me.”

“I want my kids to be surrounded by pictures and artwork.”

He scrunches up his face. “Why?”

“To make them feel special.”

He strides to my dream kitchen and peels off his gray suit jacket, slinging it over the stool. I can’t help but notice how well-fitted the white shirt is, showing off his strong shoulders and tapered waist. He pulls at his tie, and the way he tugs at it makes my mouth suddenly dry. I try to clear my throat as I walk to the marble island counter.

“Do you want a drink?”

I nod. “Please.”

He pulls his tie free and tosses it on the stool with his jacket before moving around his kitchen effortlessly. I haven’t moved, too transfixed by him. A man in a suit in the kitchen makes me all hot and bothered.

While he makes the drink, I look over the marble floors, to the custom chandelier in the living room that casts a beautiful warm glow throughout the place.

“Do the other floors look like this?”

“No. Some are more modern than others.”

“Did you want to see them?” he asks, passing me my glass.

I take a sip, enjoying the smooth burn. “One day. But can I get a tour here?”

He inclines his head, and I follow him, wandering to the dining room that could host the most elegant of dinner parties. It has the same sophisticated high ceilings, artwork, designer furniture, that I’d seen in the entry, kitchen, and living spaces.

We stop inside the master. His room. My eyes go immediately to his bed. The creams, white and soft browns keep it modern yet cozy. No words are spoken. I can only hear the fast beat of my heart in my ears as I see his private space. It’s a sanctuary of comfort and indulgence. My feet automatically move to the floor-to-ceiling window framing the most breathtaking view of the city. I’ve never seen it from a place like this. Imagine going to sleep and waking up to it. But would the view be this or him? I sneak a peek of Evan from the corner of my eye, noticing he’s watching me.

He walks me to the bathroom that resembles a spa, with a deep-seated tub and a large shower.

“Incredible,” I say, turning my head back to face him.

He sips his amber liquid, his eyes a sea of torment, dark and hungry. But before I can speak, he says, “Let me show you the terrace. The view’s even better out there.”

We step out, and it’s an outdoor oasis. An infinity-edge pool, surrounded by lush trees and flowers in full bloom, adds subtle color to the area. But the green and white flowers stand out the most. Elegant and so romantic.

I soak up the city lit up in the night sky.

Sipping my drink, I welcome how my muscles have loosened from the stress I had earlier today. I appreciate the scenery and the simplicity of being here with Evan. He doesn’t know it, but he soothes me. I don’t know if it’s the same for him.

“You ready to watch a movie on the sofa?”

My lips curl into an easy smile. “Definitely.”

We stroll back the same way and pass spare bedrooms and bathrooms. It’s much larger than I had expected.

“I’ll order us some food.”

My stomach growls. I hadn’t realized the time. It’s six o’clock. “Sounds good.”

I take off my shoes, lower my glass to the coffee table, and sit on his luxurious cream sofa, letting out a groan. “It feels like I’m on a cloud.”

Lowering his glass next to mine, he comes to join me on the sofa. I expect him to sit near but not close. So my mouth opens wide when he sits beside me, so our thighs are touching.

He turns on the TV, and the speakers surround us, giving us a cinema experience. At least it provides me with a distraction.

“What should we watch?” he asks as he scrolls through the options, and a movie catches my eye. “ The Hangover ?”

He sets it up. “How about Chick-fil-A?”

After the initial shock that he?a billionaire?is offering me Chick-fil-A, I reply, “Good choice.”

“What's your order?”

“A chicken sandwich.”

“Did you want to share waffle fries?”

“Only if you order some Chick-fil-A sauce.”

He grins, but it’s the soft expression that has me leaning back into the sofa, with a tingle growing on my cheeks.

“It’ll be a while because of traffic. Let’s start the movie while we wait.”

“You don’t need to work?”

I could watch the movie by myself.

“No, it’s a classic. I’m watching it with you.”

I can’t stop the way the smile stretches across my mouth.

The movie begins, and a content sigh leaves my mouth. My legs curl up on the sofa, and I lie back. He grabs a throw and covers my legs with it.

“Thanks,” I whisper, smiling up at him.

He settles back into the couch, and his arm drapes over my body, pulling me close. My head rests on his chest. It’s strong, hot, and the beat of his heart is calming. His spicy scent is familiar, and when he tickles my back in soothing circles, my eyelids grow heavy. I fight against them, wanting to enjoy the moment, and dinner will be here soon. But I can’t fight it. I surrender and fall asleep.

I gasp for air from a nightmare, sitting up in the darkness of the night. I blink awake and take in my surroundings. Where am I?

My vision settles on Evan’s body sitting in the chair, clutching a drink. He’s still in his clothes from earlier. I’m in his bed.

But he’s on the chair?

I rub my eyes, thinking I’m still asleep.

“What happened?” His voice is gravelly and definitely real.

I peer down and see I’m still in the same clothes. He must have carried me here.

“Just a silly nightmare.”

One where I’m alone without my business, husband, and kids. I’m old, sad, and very single.

“Must have been bad to wake you.”

“Life problems.”

That I really want to forget…

His dark eyes stay on me as he dips his head. He gets up, turning away, and my heart lurches.

“Wait.”

He pauses midway to his bedroom door.

I scramble off the bed and stand in front of him. Grabbing his glass, I take a big sip of the bourbon, enjoying the warmth it brings.

I ask him a question that I’ve wanted to know but haven’t been brave enough to ask.

"Has it been eight years since…everything?" I ask, suddenly shy.

He scratches his cheek. "Is this what your nightmare was about?”

“No. I’m just curious…”

His eyes narrow, and he exhales. “Yes. Doesn't mean I haven't gotten off in eight years. But no, I haven’t been with a woman since her. You wouldn’t understand since you’ve been with someone.”

“Well…shit...this is pretty embarrassing," I mumble, taking another sip of his drink.

He's staring blankly at me, waiting for me to answer. He likes the truth, and he's about to get it. It's quite embarrassing for me, but if he's willing to tell me he hasn't been with a woman in years, I can tell him about my situation.

"The truth is, Bobby hasn’t gotten me off for a long time. He tried. Well, most of the time," I continue with a wince, "it was easier to pretend."

He takes the glass from my hands, tipping back the rest of the drink. I’ve probably disappointed him because he doesn’t appreciate liars. But I loved Bobby, even with all his flaws. In the end, I tried to avoid sex at all costs. I'm not proud of myself. I just did it on my own afterwards.

He moves to lower the glass on the table where a half bottle of bourbon sits.

I beg one last time. “I need you to help me forget about it.”

He twists back to me. “I can’t,” he says with a pinched expression and runs his hand over his face. He’s fighting himself.

“Why?” I ask softly.

As his eyes pin me in place, my breath catches in my lungs, and he steps toward me. “One touch would never be enough.”

My eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

“Once I touch you, I could never let you go.”

His eyes sweep slowly over my body, soaking me in. He likes what he sees. I work hard for it, so it's nice having my body be enjoyed by someone other than me. I know he's attracted to me just as much as I am attracted to him. The whole fake dating was just a drunk decision because the attraction was always there. Nothing between us has been fake.

“Then don’t,” I breathe out.

A dark rumble leaves his chest. “You don’t know what you're asking for.”

“Yes, I do. I want you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut before they meet mine and the deep pools staring back at me are conflicted.

“Shell,” he warns.

“Make me forget,” I’m close to begging now.

“Last chance,” he says through a tight jaw.

“Please.” My heart thuds powerfully in anticipation.

His eyes glow with a savage inner fire as he stands in front of me. "Fine, but there's been something I wanted to do since the first moment I watched you drink whiskey.”

I tilt my head with a pitched brow. “You d?”

He swallows the rest of my words when his mouth meets mine. Our lips move with ferociousness. His tongue glides along my lips, and I part them instantly. I whimper when our bodies touch and his tongue twirls with mine. He's no longer a temptation; his real, strong body against me feels amazing. His lips move against mine in a perfect rhythm, so delicate. I had never guessed he would be delicate, yet at the same time take control. My lips follow his movement with perfect synchronicity.

He pulls back slowly, seductively, commanding. It offers so much promise of what tonight could bring. As his eyes collide with mine, they’re dark and feral. “The taste of bourbon in your mouth makes me wanna drown you in it, then lick it from your body.”

The words cause goosebumps to scatter across my skin, the promise tempting. I can picture it in my mind. God, I want that too.

I raise my eyebrow and play along. "Only if I can do it too."

He shakes his head as he grips mine with both of his hands and kisses me again. A deep, guttural growl leaves his throat on contact. One of his hands on my hip and the other on the back of my jaw keeps me in place. The thumb sliding along my jaw sends tingles down my spine and pools of heat between my legs.

As his hands slip from my head down over my neck, I shiver from the touch of his thumb against my throat. My skin remembers his fingers, and I expect him to stop there, but he doesn't. His hand slips down along the side of me, and I inhale sharply when he skims the side of my breasts.

My skin is hot from just his caress over my clothes. I want him so badly it hurts. Our tongues continue to swirl together as my fingers slide into his hair, the hair I’ve daydreamed about touching. I run my hands through it, curling and tightening, egging him on. His hand moves to my lower back, and he pushes me flush against him.

He's breathing heavily. "So, this is the first time for both of us in a long time."

"Are you warning me that it's not going to last?"

His fingers move to my face, bringing my chin closer to his. His eyes suddenly turn serious, pinning me. Instantly, my body wakes up.

"There’s no way you’ll be leaving here without a real orgasm."

The promise hits me hard, and I blurt out, "I promise, I’ll never lie to you." If one of his kisses leaves me gasping, I can't imagine what it’ll be like to go further together.

"I can read your body if you lie to me anyway." He smirks confidently. “And baby, once we start, I'm not going to be able to stop. So I’ll ask you again, are you sure about this?"

He is so compelling that, on instinct, I inch forward, impelled involuntarily by my own passion. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

It's one of the things I enjoy about Evan. He's not cocky; he's confident. To the outside world, he's quiet and cold, but to me, he is anything but.

My need for him is beyond desperate. I tug his shirt out of his pants and undo his buttons one by one, starting from the base until his chest is exposed.

Humming at the sight before me, my hands glide over his strong warm chest and down over his stomach. The dark hair is trimmed. His body is strong with a hint of softness that reminds me he works out but not in a I-live-in-the-gym way. The noises he makes and his shallow breathing tell me he's enjoying this as much as me.

Because this is his first time in eight years, I want this to be as good for him as he promises it will be for me. I want him to know how attracted I am to him just by how I touch and look at him.

His hands lie limp beside him, as if he is enjoying watching me remove pieces of clothing from his body. I move my hand all the way up his broad shoulders and push his shirt off too. My eyes drink in his body—up his big, bulging biceps, over his broad shoulders, down his chest that has a dusting of hair that trails down to his abdomen and stops where his pants start.

Grabbing the bottom of my tank, he pulls it swiftly over my head, along with my sports bra. His eyes bounce between my face and my breasts. I enjoy the way he looks darkly at me, a deep longing clear as day in his stare.

I'm tingling with desire, but I hold myself back. His finger reaches out to touch my side at the same time he leans forward and peppers kisses along my shoulder.

My heart beats rapidly, breaths quickening to match. "Beautiful, so fucking beautiful, Shell." His nickname for me comes out huskily as he murmurs against my skin.

My hands twitch, needing more. I grab his belt and pull it off. He removes my leggings as I unbutton his pants. They fall easily to his ankles, leaving him standing in only his briefs. I reach out and stroke his hot, taunt stomach. He whimpers when I touch him. The sound almost breaks me, but I know he needs this. When it’s his turn, he'll find me wet, and that will make him see how badly I want him. I wiggle my leggings off and kick them away. Pushing my thong down, he does the same with his boxers. Now we both stand naked, breathing heavily with anticipation. His cock is big and hard. He’s 6’5”, with big hands and feet, so I took a guess he was big, but I take my time looking over him, memorizing it into my brain. Thankful he gave in to my plea. I’ve never craved someone enough to beg. But with Evan, I’d do it again. The fire in his eyes and the way he touches me make me feel special. I don’t want him to ever stop looking at or touching me.

Remembering his earlier words, I step over and snatch the bottle of bourbon from the table and walk back to him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

I smirk. “My turn first.”