Her First Billionaire (BBW Erotic Romance) (6 page)

She began to eat her food. He dug into his. Even though he didn’t like it, he welcomed the silence, perplexed by the contradiction but lately his entire life seemed to be one big steaming pile of complexity. He watched her. He took the dinner as an opportunity to just keep an eye on her. To see what she was like. To see if she was…what her body language would give away.

She kept pulling on the shoulder of her sweater, correcting everything so that the edge of her black silk bra wouldn’t show, and every time she did it, a little part of him tugged. Mostly in the crotch area. But also in his heart. Because, man, was he
lovin’
that little piece of black lace right now.

He forced a mouthful of something that he was afraid might still be half alive in between his teeth. And then, “
Mmmm!
” he groaned. “This is incredible.”

“Yeah, mine’s luscious.”

So are you
, he thought, spearing a piece of fish and holding out his fork. “Do you want a bite of mine?”

He held the fork out for her and she looked at him in a certain way, eyes narrowing a bit while cocking her head, one little curl floating out of her ponytail as she tucked it behind her ear and leaned forward. Her lips enveloped the fork, her mouth tugging at the piece of food as he reluctantly pulled the fork away, those lips,
those lips
closing over the fork. Right now, he wanted part of him to be that fork. A very big, throbbing part of him that no napkin was covering.

Chewing, she groaned; it was the sound he wanted to hear later at night in his bed or in hers or on somebody’s couch or hell, in the alley by the parking lot at this point. Dylan’s cock strained against his trousers, more aroused then he ever imagined possible, just from watching her eat that scrumptious piece of God knows what.

“Isn’t it incredible?” he asked.

“That’s perfection. Where does it comes from?” she asked.

He glanced over at the menu and replied, “Malaysia and, apparently, Tibet.”

“Oh, a Malaysian, Tibetan piece of perfection,” she said, then crinkled her brow with a bemused look. “Fishing in Tibet?”

He shrugged. “The monks have to do something.” A diner at one table over frowned at them and Dylan just let it roll off.

Laura speared something else on her plate and lifted the fork to him. He took it, eagerly, greedily, eating something he didn’t even understand, but, watching her, his eyes boring into hers, realizing that this meal was just the appetizer and he was going to have the main course later on.

Oh, holy cow, she’d never been treated like this before in her entire life. In fact she was a bit concerned that she was leaving a wet spot on the upholstered bench and that she had soaked completely through not only her thong, but also her pencil skirt and pretty much through the outer layer of the bench’s covering, the pad, and into whatever store was beneath this restaurant because this guy was not just hot, he was flaming and how appropriate that he was a
firefighter
.

She could see it in his eyes too. Whatever was going on, there was a kismet here that really shouldn’t be happening. After they exchanged their bites, like a cross between “Lady and the Tramp” and a porno movie, she realized that she was going to go home with this guy. Laura was going to sleep with him and she was going to like it.

From the look in his eyes, he was in the same place mentally, too. Hopefully physically. They both seemed to sort of hurry through their meal and the conversation finally resumed after they had finished eating.

“Do you want another drink?” he asked, reaching for her hand again, now that it was free from eating dinner.

She wiped her mouth with the napkin using her other hand, set it down, and said “Um, I’m still too full. Maybe we could go for a walk?”

“Actually,” he said, looking away, “I had planned something else, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, really? What’s that?”
Breakfast?
She stifled the thought, terrified she had actually blurted that aloud.

“Turns out there’s a really a nice cruise here in town that I was hoping we could go on.”

“Oh.” She looked at her watch, trying to hide her churning emotions. Oh, man, it was already late. A cruise. She did some quick mental math. A couple of hours on a cruise meant there was going to be no down time – she had to work, had to get up at 6:00 in the morning, and that meant blowing out the whole night. First date.
Calm down Laura, don’t be a slut, don’t be a slut, don’t be a slut,
she told herself.

Don’t sleep with him on the first date, don’t sleep with him on the first date if you want a second date.
OK, OK
. OK. Josie’s voice entered in her mind. ‘Don’t sleep with him, Laura. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. Unless he’s incredibly hot.’

Oh, yeah he is. Oh,
yeah
he is.

She had this entire conversation in the period of about three seconds with herself, with Dylan looking at her with a very puzzled expression. Angel Josie and Devil Laura argued inside her head until she realized she needed to respond to Dylan’s comment.

“OK, yeah, sure! A cruise sounds great. Did you already get tickets?”

He squinted and furrowed his brow, confused. And then his face went neutral. “Oh, no, actually, not yet. I just figured we’d go there, and, you know, climb on.”

You can climb on me
, she thought. Her eyes widened. Hopefully, those words hadn’t actually come out of her mouth, because at this point, she didn’t know the difference between thought and spoken word as she squirmed and straightened her shirt again. The black lace seemed to jumped pop out like an erection. Which, if she could have seen his package from across the table – she suspected that he had his own little version of the black lace pokin’ out somewhere in his pants.

The waitress brought the check and she had that internal dialogue that all single women have when going out on new dates.
Do I offer to pick up the check? Do I offer to go halfsies? Do I…

He didn’t even give her a chance. He grabbed the check, handed a credit card to the woman, and waved it off. Turning to her, reaching for her hand, he said, “Thank you for a lovely date. Or, thank you for a lovely meal.”

“Oh, well, my goodness!” she said, a little taken aback that she didn’t even have an opportunity to fight for the check.”Well, thank you so much! I mean, I, really, I, can I, I’d like to offer to the…”

He nodded. “You can get the next date.”

“Oh!
Oh!
” she said, his words sinking in, finally. “Next date.”

He couldn’t read her. It was driving him nuts. He just couldn’t read her. Had he gone too far with the next date thing? Was she offended that he was suggesting she pay for the next date? Mike had suggested that there was a great way to handle women who tended to have good solid careers; you didn’t know exactly how to handle the awkwardness of who paid for first dates. He had his own thing about paying.

When he took women on dates, he had more than enough money these days now that he had come into his trust fund, which he had always viewed as a bit of curse. Now he viewed the money as one hell of a blessing, because if it meant that he could treat a woman like Laura right, then maybe he and Mike could have the future that he had hoped for. Then it wasn’t just a blessing.

It was everything.

Discomfort gnawed away at him. How he had come into his trust fund was an issue he had not begun to explore, he and Mike the recipients of an annual income equal to approximately 2.7 percent of the $2.2 billion in the massive trust, split in half. The trust manager had laid it out in such clinical terms that Dylan had nearly vomited on the spot, the words
twenty-nine million and change per year for life
, minus management fees, pinging around his skull like a racquetball that never stops.

And that was two months ago. He still drove the same car, still worked his full shifts, but splurged in little ways, the enormity of his new-found – literally! – fortune not quite sinking in.

Mike had bought a cabin on the slopes. Cabin wasn’t quite the right word. Haven was more like it, a four bedroom ski palace that he knew would keep Mike happy for the rest of his life. The ski resort, too – which had been almost an after thought.
Oh, yeah, I can save the struggling ski mountain I love, because I have more money than God now. Well, almost.

As Dylan caught Laura stealing shy looks at him, his money problems (
twenty nine million of them per year
) faded and he started to wonder if she could keep them happy for the rest of their –

“Dylan? Ready to go?” The waitress had taken the check, cleared the table, and was practically pulling out the vacuum to clean their spot.

The meal paid for, they stood and he put his arm around her waist. She leaned into him just enough to finally send him a signal that told him,
Oh, yeah
, and off they went outside. He reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers in hers. As they walked toward the boardwalk, he realized they weren’t going on that cruise.

God, her scent was intoxicating. He couldn’t believe that her unique mixture of perfume, musk, and soap fused together to produce this. Even better – he knew that there were other scents, other tastes that would be more divine if he could get there tonight.

Dylan stopped, finally, bursting at the seams with his own internal dialogue, his own body’s cravings, and just looked at her and decided that he needed to be as forthright with her as he had been with most people throughout his life, because these games weren’t cutting it anymore.

Time to make his move.

He leaned down, caressed her jawline with his right hand, and brought his lips to hers. She responded, pressing her body against his until everything, from breast to hip, was his, pushed into him, and anything he felt for her was extremely obvious right now.

They definitely were not going on that cruise.

Cruise? What cruise?
She had no intentions of going on a cruise. As his kiss deepened, lips parted, as their tongues danced, she found herself roiling in ecstasy inside, going so far as to be twisted into a cliche, one leg lifting up as she stood on her tiptoes, even in high heels needing to stand on tiptoes to match him in his kiss.