The Player + The Pact = I Do (New York City Billionaires #2)

Chapter 20

TWENTY

Jules

I have a thousand busy construction workers in my brain, trying to force their way out using pneumatic drills and pickaxes. I’m wearing my eye mask, but it still feels like someone’s poking needles of light into my eyeballs.

Someone needs to make it stop.

I pull the pillow from under my head and put it over my face, but inexplicably the fabric smells of Leo. Like smelling salts to a weak and wailing woman, it actually perks me up. I throw the pillow off and peel up one corner of the eye mask.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Leo says from the bottom of my bed. Jesus Christ, why is he in my bedroom? Did we… I can’t remember even getting home last night.

“Why are you—?” I glance at the inexplicable artwork behind him. That’s not the usual view I wake up to. I look left and right, then I pull the eye mask off completely and sit bolt upright. “This isn’t my room.”

Leo chuckles. He’s in a towel, his hair still damp from the shower. He looks so clean and fresh and so unlike how I feel, which is like someone threw me in a dumpster and shut the lid. “This is my room.”

“Why am I in your room?”

He shrugs. “You came in just after midnight. I’d already gone to bed, but you decided there was no time like the present to uh… thank me. Then you closed your eyes and sort of fell onto the bed.”

I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my god. I slept here?”

“It’s no big deal,” he says.

“Did we… did I… I mean, did anything?—”

“You fell asleep. I went back to sleep. The only thing either of us did was sleep. You weren’t capable of remaining upright, so once you timbered into bed, we were both out cold.”

I bite down on my bottom lip. “I’m a mess.” Having sex with your boss is one thing but passing out disheveled and incoherent is quite another.

“It was funny. And no big deal. Don’t sweat it.”

He heads back into his bathroom and I half roll, half crawl out of his bed. I’m still dressed in my outfit from last night. I clutch the top of my head. At least I’m not still wearing my bridal tiara. I immediately spot it on the nightstand and groan. I didn’t fall asleep wearing that, did I?

Leo reappears in soft gray joggers and a white t-shirt. I have an urge for a toothbrush and a Silkwood shower. “I’m going for coffee. No need to ask whether you want one. I’ll bring you two.”

I laugh and immediately regret it when it feels like my skull and my brain just suffered a high-speed collision. I hold the sides of my head with my palms.

“Anything else or shall I just bring you back an assortment of carbs?”

I nod. “Sounds perfect. I’m going to try for a shower.”

He laughs, but it’s not at my expense—more of an I feel your pain, my friend kind of laugh. I smile slightly.

“See you in a bit.”

“You’re not ordering in?” I ask.

“I’ll run there and cab it back.”

I groan. The idea of fresh air, let alone exercise, makes me want to hurl. “Good for you,” I manage to croak.

As I pass him to head for a shower, he stops me and lifts my chin. “You’re a very cute drunk, you know that?”

If I felt ten percent better than I did, I’d grab his t-shirt and snuggle into it, thank him for trying to make me feel better. But I don’t. Not to mention, I still feel a little awkward for passing out in his bedroom.

“Cute is not what I’m feeling right now.”

“You’re always cute.” He presses a kiss to my forehead like he’s my boyfriend or something, then heads to the door. “If you think of anything you want while I’m gone, text me,” he calls over his shoulder.

I trudge to the shower, putting one foot only slightly in front of the other. Eventually, I’ll baby-step all the way across the apartment. If I don’t pick up speed, I won’t make it to my bedroom before he’s back.

But I do reach my bedroom. And I make it in and out of the shower before I hear the front door open. I pull on a t-shirt and some leggings and plod toward the kitchen.

“You were quick,” I say.

He turns to face me from the counter where he’s pulling cups out of a paper bag. It hits me like a brick how good-looking he is. His chest seems wider than normal and his arms seem stronger—more muscular than I’ve seen them looking before. I can’t have had him in focus before my shower.

“You said before that I came into your room to thank you for something. What was I thanking you for?” I ask him.

He narrows his eyes and then hands me a coffee cup. “Oh, last night?” He shrugs. “Not sure. You passed out before I understood entirely.”

“Must have been for dealing with my dad.” My gaze hits the floor. I’m so embarrassed he had to see that. Of all the days to get two unexpected visitors. “It was really nice of you to escort him out, but you can’t give him a job. You know that, right?” I shake my head. “I don’t know why I’m saying that. It’s not like he’s actually going to call and set up a meeting.”

“He already did. A week on Friday. One thirty.”

“He called?” He must really want that job. “You’re seeing him the day after the awards ceremony? Will you be working that day?” Before Leo can answer, I groan. “He won’t turn up. But on the off chance he does, will you please not give him a job?”

“You don’t think he’ll show?”

I shake my head. “No way.” He hadn’t even messaged me. I shouldn’t be surprised, and I’m not. It’s just…

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Leo asks.

“I was a teenager. He turned up after being gone six months. He’d never left for that long before. It was the first time my mom didn’t let him swan in to pick up where he’d left off.” I shrug. “I was proud of her. He always brought a lot of stress when he came back. It felt like we finally got off this endless merry-go-round of him coming and going.”

“You deserve better than that. You deserved it then, and you especially deserve it now.”

I smile and take a sip of coffee. When I look back at him, he’s still got his eyes on me, but I don’t want to talk about my dad. “Sorry about crashing in your bed,” I say.

“Anytime.”

“You could have carried me back to my bed. Although, thank god you didn’t, I might have barfed on you. I haven’t been that drunk in forever. I think it was the tequila before I left here that tipped me over the edge. I thought it was liquid courage, but it was just liquid alcohol.”

He laughs and then hands me a pastry on a plate. He’s very civilized. It must be his British genes.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

“Sure. Is this what you’d normally do on a Saturday?”

“Nope,” he says as we head toward the couches. “But there’s not much normal about today.”

We get situated and Leo pulls up a list of movies to scroll through. I pull out my phone from where I’ve slipped it into my waistband and check my messages. There’s nothing from either Sophia or Natasha. They’re probably still asleep.

“What do you like?” he asks.

“Something quiet and peaceful with no explosions or flashing lights. Basically anything you’ll hate.”

He chuckles. “What about a TV box set binge?”

“Like…?”

“ Killing Eve ?”

“I don’t think I have the stomach for murder. I need gentle.”

“That British baking show?”

“I love that. Are you sure you have the stomach for it?”

“I know it’s off-brand, but I’m completely invested. I’ve only watched the first series though.”

I sit up straighter, completely charmed. “Me too!”

He shoots me a smile. “We’re made for each other. Who knew?”

My stomach flips as Leo hits play.

We’re two episodes in when he hands me a second pastry, and I don’t turn him down. “I want to eat everything in New York City right now. A hangover and a binge of British baking isn’t a recipe for calorie control.”

He laughs and settles deeper into the couch. I wonder what he’d be doing right now if he wasn’t here with me, helping me nurse my hangover. Before I can ask him, my phone beeps. It’s Natasha.

Just coming to life. My head is about to explode, but had a great night celebrating with you. Tell Leo hi and thank him for me. What a swoon-meister.

So not only did I want to thank Leo last night, but Natasha wants to thank him this morning. For being a swoon-meister—whatever that is. Maybe it’s an Ohio thing.

As I reread the message from Natasha, I get another one, this time from Sophia.

Hope you’re feeling better than I am. Say thanks to Leo. Hope to meet him soon.

That’s it. I’ve got to know what we’re all so thankful for.

“Leo, why did I come into your room last night to thank you?”

He shrugs. “Can’t remember.”

I’m not buying it. It wasn’t about my dad if my friends are grateful, too.

“But Natasha and Sophia messaged and asked me to thank you. What’s going on?”

He groans and stays focused on the screen. “Such bad luck on the technical. I think he’s going home. Joanne’s got this series in the bag. I’m calling it. ”

“Leo,” I say. “Please tell me. Even if I did something really embarrassing, I want to know.”

His eye slice to mine. “Why would you have done something embarrassing?”

“You’re obviously avoiding telling me why we’re all so grateful to you,” I say. “Probably because you want to spare my feelings. I can handle whatever it is.”

“It’s nothing. I just… picked up your tab last night, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”

My heart clenches in my chest. “You paid for our dinner and drinks last night? How?”

He narrows his eyes. “With a credit card,” he says, like I’m a simpleton.

“I mean, how did you even know where we were?”

He shrugs. “I recognized the restaurant from the picture you sent.”

“So, you just decided to?—”

“It’s really not a big deal. I called them and gave them my card number. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Just like him dealing with my dad yesterday wasn’t nothing. It was a big deal. A really big deal. Not just because of the money—the money doesn’t mean much to Leo. His thoughtfulness and kindness, though? His generosity and humility? Those are the kinds of things a boyfriend—or a real fiancé—brings to the table. At least if they’re one of the good ones.

“That was really nice of you, Leo.” My voice is a little shaky. We’re not joking around, teasing each other. He did something really nice and I’m grateful from the bottom of my heart.

He must catch the difference in my tone, because he pulls his gaze from the TV and regards me. “It’s fine. It wasn’t anything.”

We stare at each other for a beat, then two. He circles his fingers around my ankle and pulls me toward him. “You’re worth it. I wanted you to have a nice time. You’d had a rough day.”

I want to kiss him. I want him to kiss me. I know he’s not the guy I’m going to end up with—I understand a man like Leo can never settle down and commit to a woman. But right now, I don’t want to think about commitment or settling down. I just want Leo Hart to kiss me.

It’s like he can read my mind, because he shifts over me, pushing me back onto the couch, his breath against my neck.

“You look so sexy right now.”

My hair is damp and I’m in a t-shirt and leggings. I’m anything but sexy. “I guess it’s all relative,” I huff out. “You’re used to seeing me in secondhand pantsuits.”

“You’re always sexy.” He places a kiss to my collarbone. Every molecule in my body stands to attention. It’s like he has some kind of code to my body that I didn’t know existed, and with just a few movements—a sweep of his lips, a press of his fingers—I’m unlocked and all his.

I feel his erection against my leg and I’m instantly wet with longing. How is that possible? I’m hungover to Colorado and back and I still want him. His hands slide up my t-shirt and he finds me braless and groans. “Fuck, Jules.” He pushes the t-shirt higher, and I help him take it over my head. He pinches and pulls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and it’s such painful pleasure that my back arches and I cry out.

He releases me and strips off his t-shirt. The skin on his arms and neck and face is so smooth it looks like it’s polished. As he bends over me, I slide my hands over his shoulders and down his front. His chest has a little hair and it makes me giddy—like some kind of biological switch is flicked at the sight of it.

“How’s the hangover?” he asks.

“What hangover?”

He chuckles and leans in for a kiss. He grazes his teeth across my jaw and then dips between my lips, as if he’s tasting me. It’s like he’s trying to torture me. I want his tongue, his cock, his fingers—all of him inside me right now.

I scramble for the waist of his joggers and try to push them down, but my hands find his cock and I reach for it. He twists his hips away and shifts so he’s lying behind me, one hand around my waist, another down the waistband of my leggings.

“You’re not touching me. Not until I’ve had my turn touching you,” he says. He holds me in place as his fingers slip down and between my folds. I want to be better than melting every time he touches me. But I’m not. He strips me of any self-control.

I moan as his fingers circle my clit. I can feel him pressing hard into my ass and I just want him inside of me. “Leo, please,” I say.

“You have such beautiful manners,” he says, with a twist of his hips. “But you don’t get to decide when you touch me, when I touch you, when I slide inside you.” His teeth graze my neck and I whimper. I can’t help it. I’m so overcome with need for him. I circle my hips against his hand, wanting more, trying to steal sensations from his fingers.

With his free hand, he forces my leggings and underwear down. His erection sits against my ass. Hard. Hot. Pulsing. My body shivers with relief. It will happen soon. Soon, soon , a voice inside me chants.

“You feel how hard I am for you?” he whispers in my ear. “What are you doing to me? ”

He strips off the rest of my leggings and his joggers so we’re both naked. He sits up and guides me to straddle him. His cock is pointing at the ceiling and he rolls on a condom before guiding it to my entrance.

I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I have the strength to move when he’s inside me.

Slowly, I sit and he slides in, stretching me out, filling me deep. My heart is pounding out of my chest and I’m breathless.

I can’t move. I’m too full. Right on the edge of a cliff.

His fingers find my nipples again and that’s all it takes. I drop my head back as my orgasm spirals through me like it’s the first time I’ve ever come. My legs begin to tremble and my back arches. Leo groans as I come.

“Fuck, Jules. You’re so gorgeous.”

I take a couple of deep breaths as I float back down to earth. He cups my face with his hand and I lean forward, our foreheads touching. “I’m sorry,” I reply. “I don’t usually… This isn’t normal for me.”

“Don’t apologize for coming,” he says. “Don’t apologize. You’re not broken. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

We haven’t moved, but I can still feel him deep inside me. Even though I only just came, I start to shift, moving my hips back and forth in tiny movements.

“Don’t fucking apologize for being so turned on you lose control. You’re safe with me.”

My movements become bigger, faster, and he grips my hips, slowing me down. “We’re in no rush,” he says. “We’re going to fuck all day. There’s no race to the finish line.”

I whimper as he pulls me down firmly, and I bite my bottom lip, reveling in the hardness of him inside me. I don’t know if it’s the feel of him, the idea that he’s going to fuck me all day or that he wants to take his time, but I’m ready for him again. Maybe it’s all of it.

He lifts me up slightly and pulls me down again, bigger movements now but all at his pace. All the way he wants it—but it’s also the way I want it. He knows what I need.

I press my hands against his chest and our bodies move like they’re engineered to work together, his cock pistoning in and out, my hips rocking. Our eyes are locked like we can read each other’s minds.

Then all of a sudden, he grips my hips and forces me back and away from him, leaving me empty.

“Fuck,” he says, his head rolling back onto the sofa. “I’m so close.”

“So quickly?” I arch an eyebrow. “It’s like we’re kids.” I trail a finger down his breastbone and then down the base of his cock. “I like it,” I say.

He chuckles. “You do?”

“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t come first. It’s not like I’m not going to come a second time with you.”

I kneel up and press him to my entrance.

I moan as he fills me up, like it’s the first time I’ve ever had him inside me. I start to rock my hips and his expression urges me on. My fingers dip to my clit and he glances down, groaning.

A buzz starts in my fingers and soon covers my body. I’m vibrating for him, with him, on him. I grab at his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer as he pushes up harder, deeper. We both explode at the same time, clasped together, our orgasms thundering through us as if we’re sharing one huge climax.