Billionaire on the Loose (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #5)(14)


by Jessica Clare

Loch, however, looked shocked. “This is your place?” He stepped inside and rubbed his jaw.

“Um, yup. Is that bad?”

“It’s rather . . . small.”

She gazed around her place, trying to see it through his eyes. It was a wee bit crowded, but she was only one person. The futon was along one wall, the TV hanging on the wall on the opposite side of the room. Her bed was along the windows and in the corner next to the bed was her computer desk, set up with both of her laptops. Directly to the left of the door was her small kitchen (okay, really just a cabinet or two and a microwave and sink) and next to that, the bathroom. All in all, she felt she made pretty good use of the four hundred square feet. “Well, anything under two grand a month doesn’t get you much in the city. How much is the place you’re renting?”

Loch’s brows drew together. “I’m . . . not sure.”

She shrugged. “Might want to ask before the price tag takes you by surprise.”

“I should,” he murmured, slowly walking farther into her apartment. He rubbed his chin again, gazing around him.

This was getting uncomfortable. “You want a drink? I have some bottled water.” She would have offered him a snack but she suspected he wouldn’t be into the Cup Noodles that was her staple.

He shook his head and held a hand out to her. “I’m being a rubbish guest. My apologies.”

She shut the door behind her and locked it, then set her backpack down. “It’s okay. It is small. It took some getting used to when I moved here. You can get an entire house in South Carolina for what I pay for this shoebox. Sometimes I think I should go back.”

Loch sat down on the edge of her bed and then leaned back on her covers. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

Oh, god. The sexiest man alive was lying back on her bed. Her. Bed. “Me, too,” she breathed. She licked dry lips and moved toward her computer desk, setting her phone down. The moment she did, she accidentally tapped the mouse and her computer screen unlocked, displaying her email tab, which she’d left up. Sixty-one new messages. Sigmund’s name was on every single message she could see.

The sick feeling in her stomach returned.

“Everything all right?” A warm hand caressed hers.

Taylor looked over at Loch. He was so sexy and so delicious and so . . . here. She’d never get this chance again. And Sigmund was going to be pissy and weird about everything anyhow, so what did she have to lose? Nothing. She pushed aside her worries and laced her fingers with his. “Just some stupid shit that can wait for tomorrow.”

“Then come sit down with me.”

And because her mama didn’t raise no fool, she did. Taylor gingerly sat on the edge of her bed, a little uncertain because she wasn’t used to giant, sexy beasts sprawling all over her twin bed.

Loch immediately put a hand on her waist and dragged her down onto the bed next to him, until she was flat on her back. His big body was on its side and he gazed down at her, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”

She made a pfft sound and tried to be all casual. “Who wouldn’t be shy with their own personal Thor in their bed?”

Loch gave her a thoughtful look. “That’s the superhero from the movie, right?”

“I’m going to pretend there wasn’t even a question in your voice.”

He grinned. “So he does it for you, does he?”

Taylor could feel her face getting warm. “I’m not sleeping with you just because I might or might not have the hots for Thor. I’m sleeping with you because I have the hots for you.”

“That is an excellent thing to hear.” He leaned in close and brushed his lips over hers. Every thought or worry she had about Sigmund and the attention he was screaming for went out the window. Loch was here and now, and she wanted him more than anything. Taylor gave a little sigh and put her arms around his neck, drawing him down into the kiss. The time for doubt was past. If he needed convincing that she wanted to sleep with him? She’d convince him with her mouth. She might not have been the most experienced in bed, but she was a damn awesome kisser, mostly because she liked to kiss for a long time before sealing the deal with a guy.

Well, besides Loch and the guy at the convention. But if there was a relationship to be had? She needed months of kissing and easing into things first. And if he wasn’t a good kisser? She wasn’t interested. So she tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth, coaxing his mouth to part, and when it did, she swooped in for the kill.

His little groan of pleasure was rather delightful to hear, and the way his arms tightened around her body told her that he was into it. Oh, good. She liked to take the lead with kissing, mostly because it ensured that the kiss would be good. She’d endured far too many limp-tongued slobberfests to sit around and wait for a guy to kiss her just right. So she took charge.

To his credit, he didn’t try to take control of the kiss away from her. Instead, his tongue gently caressed hers and then drew back, as if he was waiting to see what she’d do. Ooh, fun. Taylor flicked her tongue against his and then took full control, using her tongue to thrust, tease, and play against his. She loved kissing; loved the sheer intimacy of it, the flirty aspects, the taste of the other person, all of it. She could kiss for hours on end. And she was pleased when Loch didn’t seem to be rushing her to get her pants off. He was content to kiss back and to let her keep control of the situation. So she happily continued the kissing party.

Slow kisses.

Quick, frisky kisses.

Wet kisses.

Languid kisses.

Tongue kisses. Okay, there were a lot of tongue kisses.

And with each kiss, she got a little more aroused, a little wetter. By the time she was ready to move on to something more exciting than just kisses, she’d memorized his taste—slightly smoky with Guinness, the unique flavor of his mouth, and the scent of him mingling in her nostrils. Her nipples were hard and aching and she pressed her breasts against his chest, her body rubbing up against his even as her mouth moved against him. He really had the best mouth for kissing, she’d decided. He’d shaved close enough that morning that his stubble wasn’t tearing her face apart, he tasted good, and his mouth was the perfect combination of hard lips edged with softness.

“Yummy,” she murmured, and slid a hand into his hair.