Shopping for a Billionaire 3(13)
Author: Julia Kent

“That’s a first,” he says.

“Sex in a limo?” I gasp between chuckles.

He gets a surprisingly sheepish look on his face. “Uh, no,” he says slowly. But not apologetically.

If this awkward turn of conversation is supposed to spoil the mood, it doesn’t. I just laugh even more. Absurdity makes me laugh. Having sex for the first time in a year makes me giggle. Fucking Declan in the back of a limo makes me sputter.

“What’s a first, then?”

“A woman overcome with giggles after sleeping with me. Most don’t find it so…comedic.”

“I just had sex in a limo,” I explain.

“You know what comes next?” he says as he pulls up his pants and snaps and zips up. I realize I am completely na**d from the waist up and scramble to find my shirt, unable to think. Naked! In a limo! With Hot Guy! Laughing!

“What?” I ask as I shove my arms into my sleeves and pull the shirt over my head. Wait. Where’s my bra? Oh. There it is. Hanging on the door handle, one strap wrapped around the gleaming metal, the other on the neck of a crystal decanter of something amber, lounging lazily.

“Love in a helicopter.”

Chapter Six

“Is that a promise or a threat?” I ask as my head shoots through the neck of my shirt, my hair caught under it. I’m sweaty and feel like I’ve just climbed Mt. Declan, legs aching and body buzzing. But ahhh, the summit was damn nice, and the view…

“Both.” He laughs and rides his hand up over my thigh. 

“I like both.” I close my eyes, trying not to cringe as I feel him brush against my decidedly not-smooth leg.

He senses the change in me and caresses my jaw with his fingers, turning my eyes to him. “What is it?”

This is the moment when every woman balances between saying “fine” and telling the truth. I’m sitting in a limousine with a man who holds more power than two hundred of me combined, and all I can think about are my stubbly shins.

The divided mind turns me in two distinct directions:

He’s different. Real and genuine. Go with it.

and

He’s about as interested in the truth as he is in going to CVS to buy you a pack of tampons.

I go for the former, because the cocky grin he’s giving me right now is so authentic that it feels right to be honest and open, vulnerable and real, and to stop worrying about what I think he’s thinking.

How about I try just saying what I think?

Deep breath. Deep breath. The car lurches forward and his hand tightens on my thigh, his other arm snaking around me protectively. I nestle in and say:

“I wasn’t exactly prepared for a date.” I run my own hand against my legs and say, “Skritch skritch skritch.” And then I close my eyes and wish for a tornado to appear and take me away so I can wake up and realize this is all a dream. Plus the ruby shoes would be a nice addition to my wardrobe.

I can’t believe I just said that. Skritch? What am I, an animated character from Ice Age?

“Sound effects?” His booming laugh fills the car. Bright lights dot the horizon as the sun nearly finishes setting, and I realize we’re at a small airport. “You’re giving me sound effects?”

He runs his hand along my leg and up between my legs. A rush of heat, and yet more arousal fills me. How can I want more?

“I like sound effects,” he adds, “but the ones you made a few minutes ago were far superior.”

“I—” My lips turn to liquid, like he just shot me with ten times my weight in Novocaine.

“If I want a smooth woman, I’ll put you in my clawfoot tub at home and shave you myself,” he says.

Blink.

“I’ll run you a hot bath, undress you with my own hands, soap you up and make you com—” He licks his lips and looks me up and down, then continues. “—fortable. And that’s a promise,” he adds, leaning down for a deep kiss. I can imagine the scene; his eyes show it to me.

The car comes to a slow stop and the engine goes silent. I can’t speak. Can’t move. Can’t think. I’m one big, throbbing hormone.

Declan pulls away and points out the window to a helicopter. A sleek black machine that looks like something out of a movie, like the insect version of a Transformer.

“What are you, Batman?” I ask as words return to me, marveling at all this. A headphoned pilot is at the controls, and the blades aren’t moving. Lights blink and Declan steps out of the limo, waving to the driver, who climbs back in the front seat. 

I step out on legs that feel strong and well used. The copter blades start a slow circle and sound revs up.

“I wish. But you’ll have to settle for plain old Declan,” he shouts.

“You’re anything but ‘plain,’” I call back.

Cupping a hand over his ear, he shakes his head. He didn’t hear me. That’s okay, though, because he doesn’t need to.

The ground feels springy under my feet as I hold my hair in one hand to keep it from whipping around my face as the helicopter blades rotate faster. The wind the machine creates is magical, the contraption about to elevate us into the air, high above the city. I have no idea where Declan is taking me and I don’t care. My body throbs and I’m sore from that amazing encounter in the limo, but I get the distinct sense that that?

That was only the beginning.

Love in a helicopter? No way. The pilot gives me a sharp nod, the engines roaring so loud I can’t hear a thing. Declan offers me headphones and I put them on, muting the chuk chuk chuk sound.

“Welcome aboard, Ms. Jacoby,” says a new-to-me voice. The pilot raises his hand with a wave.

“That’s Joel,” Declan’s voice explains, crackling over a static-y connection. He points to a little knob on his own headset and I realize it’s the volume control. I fiddle with mine and get the sound to the right level. Speaking in a normal voice is all that’s needed.

Joel speaks a bunch of Flight Language to some sort of tower personnel. He might as well be casting a spell or getting directions to Hogwarts. The words and numbers make no sense to me, but I’m in awe of it anyhow. That a human being can learn how to successfully navigate a machine like this, not only through space but through three-dimensional space, is amazing.

Driving a car on the ground is hard enough, but to know which direction you’re going and to keep track of where you are vertically? It’s like rubbing your tummy, patting your head, and playing Farmville while singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” at the same time.