The Billion Dollar Bachelor Page 10

  “Morrow.”

  “You sound happy.” Pandora’s slightly husky voice was amused. “Day not going well?”

  Jax sat down in his office chair, swiveling round to face the windows again. A lick of desire swept through him at the sound of her voice, bringing back reminders that weren’t particularly appropriate for the office. Of her in his lap with her dress hiked up and her panties down, the delicious curves of her ass bare. The warmth of her flesh beneath his palm. The jerk of her hips as he’d brought that palm down on her backside. The pressure against his cock as she’d squirmed, trying vainly to find a release…

  No, fuck, he couldn’t be thinking this kind of shit at work. He needed to get his head out of the gutter. Now.

  “The usual story,” he said, clearing his throat. “How’s that report coming along?” Since he’d taken her on as a “security consultant,” she’d been reviewing Morrow security software and had promised him a report in the next couple of days.

  “It’s coming. I just wanted to know what you thought of scarves.”

  “Scarves?”

  “I got some today. They’re red. I thought you might like to tie me up with them.”

  Another image he didn’t need leaped fully formed into his brain. Of Pandora, naked, her wrists tied with red silk scarves above her head. He forced it away, shifting in his chair at the sudden constriction in his groin. “I’m at work, Pandora.”

  “Yeah, I know. Just giving you something to look forward to for when you get home. Not to mention an incentive to finish early.”

  He leaned back, his jaw tight and his pants feeling tighter. Now that’s all he could think about. Leaving work and getting back to his apartment. Taking those red scarves and—

  Fuck. Jax did some more shifting in his chair. She was pushing him again, like she had the day before. But he couldn’t give in again. Passion was too dangerous and if the fallout of their one-night stand hadn’t been enough, then those red marks on her butt should have been.

  “Not tonight,” he said curtly.

  “Oh,” she said. “Why not tonight?”

  He hated the disappointment in her voice. It hurt in unexpected places. “Because Van’s organized us an intimate dinner for two somewhere nice.” She always liked it when they went out together, so maybe that would help.

  Sure enough, when she spoke, her voice was brighter. “Well, that’s cool. Where?”

  “The 2nd Circle. I hope you’ve got something suitable to wear.”

  “Wow. Alex St. James’s club? Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got something.”

  She sounded excited now, and shit, that made him feel pleased. Pleased that he’d made her happy. Jesus, he should not be feeling this.

  “Good,” he said, keeping his tone brusque. “Be downstairs by seven. I’ll have a car ready.”

  There was a pause. “You’re not coming back to the apartment first?”

  He wanted to. Wanted to take those scarves and tie her hands, drive himself inside her, relieve this goddamn ache. But he couldn’t. He had to maintain his detachment. Keep pulling back. Because wherever these feelings were coming from, they had to stop.

  “No. I have work to do.”

  Another pause.

  “More work, huh?” Pandora said, a curious flatness to her tone. “I guess I’ll see you downstairs then.” And she ended the call.

  Jax cursed again, tossing the phone back down on his desk.

  He should not be feeling so guilty about disappointing her. He shouldn’t be feeling anything for her at all. But he did. Which meant he had to take some rational, logical steps toward managing the situation. Pull back and regroup.

  Like stop sleeping with her for a start. That was, after all, the whole reason they were in this mess in the first place. And sex with her was the point where his control was weakest, as that spanking episode had highlighted.

  Jax swallowed, ignoring the painful ache in his cock and the even more painful twist behind his breastbone.

  She wouldn’t be happy but it was the best answer. The most logical answer.

  Tonight. He’d tell her tonight.

  *

  Jax’s hand rested on the small of Pandora’s back as he ushered her from the limo to the massive black doors of the 2nd Circle, New York’s most exclusive private members club.

  She shot him a glance as they approached the doors, ignoring the camera flashes from the paparazzi who’d been hanging around since the limo pulled up.

  The car journey hadn’t exactly been a lot of fun. From the moment he’d come out of the elevator to meet her in the foyer, he’d been on his phone, issuing orders and discussing various business matters in a cold, calm voice. And apart from the one, searing glance he’d given her as he’d stepped out of the elevator, he’d barely even looked at her. Not that it was anything new. He’d been doing the same since he’d turned her over his knee and spanked her the day before. Both of which had hurt.

  She’d thought that afternoon she’d broken through his walls, busted down his detachment, but she hadn’t. It seemed she’d only entrenched it further.

  A pity when she’d put in a special effort with the dress she was wearing—going for red because it was kind of “their” color now—plus she had a special naughty surprise for him on underneath. Or rather, not on underneath. But it was like he hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared.

  Why are you even bothering? He’s made it pretty clear what he expects and it’s not like you have any special feelings for him, either.

  Pandora swallowed and tore her gaze away from Jax’s face. No, she didn’t have any special feelings for him. God, he was the first man she’d had sex with and what a typical virgin she’d be if she fell for her first lover. A really stupid virgin since her life of freedom had only just begun. The last thing in the world she wanted, after all, was to be trapped in yet another cage because that was pretty much where love left you, wasn’t it? Her father’s love had kept her trapped and suffocated and goddamn, heartbreakingly lonely.

  The doorman smiled at them as he opened the door, his manner deferent without descending into obsequiousness.

  Inside, a club manager greeted them in the reception area, ushering them into the club’s restaurant where the maître d’ showed him to their table—a round affair circled by a bench seat covered in the club’s signature deep red velvet. The table had a good view of the rest of the restaurant and yet had red velvet curtains that could be drawn around it for privacy.

  She’d heard a lot about the club—one of the only private establishments her father hadn’t been able to gain membership to no matter how hard he tried—and she had to admit it was pretty amazing, with a quiet, luxurious, and very, very expensive vibe.

  The maître d’ fussed around with seating them but Jax ushered him away, doing it for her instead, leaning down to lay the snowy white napkin over her knees. She could smell his aftershave, the warm, familiar scent of musk and spices, which made her heart contract in her chest. She swallowed as he spread the napkin, but his fingers didn’t touch her, not even a fingertip brushing the thigh revealed by the nearly hip-high slit in her dress.

  He straightened, then slid into the seat around the other side of the table, picking up the menu and frowning over it, his expression once more as transparent as a granite slab.

  Ah, screw it. She hadn’t done anything to deserve his curtness on the phone or this cold, silent treatment, and she was so done with not saying anything. “Jax.”

  “What?”

  “Did I contract some hideous disease or something?”

  He didn’t look up. “No. Why would you think that?”

  “Because you haven’t looked at me once in the past half an hour.”

  Jax’s blue gaze finally came to hers. “I’m sorry. Work stuff.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been like this for days.”

  He looked down at the menu again. “It’s nothing.”

  At that point the waiter approached for drinks orders.

&
nbsp; “A bottle of Kristal, please,” Jax said curtly.

  “He can have the Kristal,” Pandora said to the waiter. “I’ll have a martini. A dirty one.” Once the man had gone, she said, “It’s not nothing. Talk to me.”

  His jaw tightened. “This isn’t a real date, don’t forget.”

  Anger coiled down low in her gut. Jesus, now she felt like a kid being told off by a stern parent. “Yeah, the only problem with that is that I’m a real woman, not a doll you can play with when it suits you and ignore when it doesn’t.”

  “I’ve never treated you like that.”

  “So, why won’t you tell me what the problem is? You think I’m not hurt when you won’t even look at me?” Pandora’s fingers curled tightly in her napkin. She shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. She shouldn’t. And yet she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “You could at least have said something about my dress.” It sounded so ridiculous now she’d said it, but shit, she wasn’t taking it back. She wasn’t.

  His gaze flickered. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re not even looking at it.”

  “I don’t need to.” He reached for the menu again. “I know you have great taste. And speaking of which, we should order food.”

  Damn him. Perhaps she should close the distance between them in a different way. Move over there next to him and put her hand on his cock, see just how uninterested he really was. Then again, this was a restaurant and they were in public.

  “Don’t be an asshole and don’t ignore me like I’m not even here.” She smoothed out her napkin on her knees. “This is about yesterday, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he lifted his gaze from the menu. “In a way. I’ve decided it’s not happening between us again, Pandora. I’m not going to let it.”

  Well, that sure as hell didn’t make any sense “What you do mean it’s not happening between us?”

  “Sleeping together for a start.”

  Sharp hurt slid through her. “Why? You want me. I know you do.”

  Behind his blue eyes, she caught glimpses of the tiger prowling and it made her mouth go dry. “I do want you. All the time. And that’s the problem. You’re making me feel like I’m losing control and like I told you yesterday, that can’t happen.”

  At that point the waiter came with their drinks. She sat there, stunned and silent, while the guy fussed around with the ice bucket and went into a long spiel about the menu.

  So he did want her. All the time. Beneath the shock satisfaction gripped her.

  She ordered something—she didn’t really pay attention to what—and then finally, when they were alone again, she said, “You don’t have to be in control all the freaking time, Jax.”

  He put his hands flat on the table, his wineglass sitting between them. “Yes. I do. Because when I’m not in control, I fuck up. I make bad decisions.”

  “What? Because of what happened with your mom and little brother?”

  Jax lifted his gaze from his contemplation of the tablecloth. “I screwed up an incredibly fragile situation and I can’t afford to do that again. Especially not when I’m the one leading Morrow, when things are so delicate with the company’s reputation right now. I lost it with you the other day and—”

  “And what? Gave me a mindless, screaming orgasm? That’s not screwing anything up as far as I’m concerned.”

  His mouth tightened. “I’m sorry, Pandora, but this company is too important to risk on something as insignificant as lust.”

  The cold, sharp hurt deepened, her earlier satisfaction sliding away. “So, what we have together is insignificant, is that what you’re saying? That the sex we had was meaningless? Do you have any idea how worthless that makes me feel?” She took a breath, her voice gone tight. “That night freed me, Jax. You freed me. After twenty-five fucking years. And now you’re telling me it was insignificant?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Shit, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Isn’t it?” Anger had ignited inside her, a glowing, hot furnace of hurt. “I think that’s exactly what you meant.” She picked her napkin up and tossed it on the table, determined to teach him a lesson, public restaurant or not. “Well, don’t worry, I won’t continue to inflict my insignificant self on you any longer.”

  Jax tensed. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going to need to manufacture an argument or two in order to make our breakup believable, right? So let’s have our first argument right now.” She stood up and leaned across the table, staring into his dark blue eyes. “I’m not insignificant, you prick. And I won’t let you make me feel as though I am. I won’t let anyone make me feel like that ever again.” She picked up his champagne glass and held it experimentally. “Hmmm, I wonder. In the face? Or in the lap? Your choice.”

  Chapter 10

  He’d headed into this evening intending to be firmly back in control, planning to tell her of his decision to stop sleeping with her calmly and logically. Then he’d seen her in the foyer of the Morrow Tower. In a strapless red cocktail dress with a slit in it that nearly went to her hip. With her black hair in a silky veil around her shoulders. Glossy red lipstick on her beautiful mouth.

  And all he could think of doing was sliding his hand up the length of pale thigh revealed by that goddamn sexy dress she was wearing. Or perhaps pushing down the top of it so he could see her small, beautiful breasts. Or hell, even ripping it right off her then and there.

  Which made it even more imperative that he not do any of those things.

  So he’d busied himself with work phone calls and tried to ignore the beautiful woman sitting opposite him. Tried to stay detached and in control.

  But that detachment had been steadily slipping through his grasp all evening and now it was nowhere to be found. Which was unacceptable. Especially with Pandora leaning over the table, giving him a magnificent view down her dress, waving her champagne flute threateningly, with her cheeks flushed and fire in her dark eyes.

  Because he didn’t think he would be able to resist her. No matter what he might want to believe, the desire that gathered in him right now wasn’t in any way insignificant. It raged. Consumed. And it wanted to consume her. All her fire and lightning. Her anger and her passion. All that bright emotion she seemed to have no problem sharing.

  His hand shot out, curling his fingers around her wrist, holding her tightly. “In my lap,” he growled. “And I’m not talking about the damn champagne.”

  The anger in her eyes flared, a spark of heat that sent an electric shock all the way through him. “Really? And what are you talking about?”

  The other diners were beginning to glance in their direction. A few raised their eyebrows and a couple leaned over to whisper to their dining companions.

  Good Christ, he was losing it. What he should be doing was calmly defusing the situation and yet he couldn’t seem to find his usual calm. Or logic. Or detachment. They had all utterly gone.

  “You,” he said roughly.

  Her dark eyes widened theatrically. “You mean you want me in your lap?”

  “Yes.”

  “Gee. That’s too bad, Hunt. You missed your damn window. I’m out of here.”

  Well done, asshole.

  Fucking hell. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how detached or logical he was, no matter how in control of the situation he tried to be, he always ended up hurting people. Even when he thought he’d got himself under control, he said things that caused people pain. That screwed things up.

  “You see what happens, Pandora?” he said harshly. “I hurt you. Even when I’m trying to stay in control, I hurt you.” He released her wrist all of sudden. “So, you want to throw a drink at me? Then do it. I deserve it.”

  Her gaze met his, giving him a long, unreadable look before she picked up the glass. He’d never had a drink thrown at him before. He supposed it would be interesting to find out what it felt like. Cold probably.

  Pandora’s eyes n
arrowed. Then she lifted the glass, tipped back her head and drank the entire thing before placing the flute delicately back on the table. Skirting around the table to his side of it, she slid over the bench seat toward him and with a graceful movement, eased herself into his lap, facing him. Her knees pressing into the seat on both sides of his thighs, she leaned forward, placing her hands on the back of the seat and holding on.

  Her dark gaze looked into his. “Now what?”

  Goddamn.

  Shock held him still. He couldn’t seem to find enough air to breathe. All he was conscious of was the soft weight of her in his lap, the heat of her sex against his aching groin. The familiar sweet, musky scent of her. And those brown eyes of hers that constantly seemed to be daring him to do something he didn’t want to do. Or be someone he didn’t want to be.

  Maybe she’s showing you who you’ve always been and don’t want to acknowledge?

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

  “You wanted me in your lap. So here I am.”

  “We’re in public.”

  “So? We’re supposed to be in love with each other, right?” She leaned forward, her breath hot in his ear. “By the way, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  Oh Jesus. Her hand dropped to cover one of his and she moved his palm to her knee. Sliding it further up the slit of her dress to her thigh. Then guiding it further still, up to the curve of her bottom. His breath caught—nothing but smooth, soft skin beneath his palm.

  She shivered as she lifted her head, staring at him. Into him. Desire flared in her eyes, bright and open. She didn’t hide it. Didn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Didn’t try to control it. She never had.

  “I want you,” she murmured. “And I don’t care that we’re in public. I don’t care that this is only supposed to be for show. What’s between us isn’t insignificant and the last thing I want to do is control it. And neither should you.” She leaned forward, her mouth so close to his. “You’ve been holding back again, Hunt. This is nothing to be afraid of and you know it.”

  She was so brave. And beautiful. And free. Freer than he’d ever been.