The Billionaire Bad Boys Club(32)
Author: Emma Holly

She came without screaming, but she came hard. When her thighs relaxed at last from their spasm of pleasure, he shifted up her body. The move kept her arms behind him, tied wrists limply hugging him. Her eyes were wide, her pulse still trembling within her cushy lips. He kissed her softly, and she returned it the same way. He loved that as much as he’d loved her earlier aggression. Her kiss conveyed a depth of caring he shouldn’t have been hungry for. He had that in his life. Trey gave it to him in spades. Ruthlessly shoving that consciousness aside, he lowered his h*ps to hers.

The stiff ridge behind his zipper couldn’t be overlooked.

“Zane,” she murmured against mouth, definitely not an objection.

He didn’t open his trousers. He liked his hands where they were, fanned and kneading her warm soft br**sts. Rebecca’s legs were parted around him, her panties torn away. He began to rub against her slowly, getting her wetness on the linen, teasing his prick with prospect of getting off. Her bound hands fisted in the small of his back, her calves moving restlessly behind his.

“Are you going to come like this?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Without even unzipping?”

He looked into her big gray eyes, into her shining black pupils. “Do you want me to?”

Her pelvis arched to him. “Yes, please,” she whispered in answer.

He needed the release bad, but he didn’t rush. He waited until tension rose in her again, wanting her to go with him. Then he dropped his head beside hers on the car seat and ground hard and quick into her mons, making sure to strafe the swelling at its apex. Growls of pent-up longing escaped him, his c**k as trapped by his clothing as her wrists were by his belt. The constriction pleased his nerves, the perversity of doing this like he was back in high school. As excited as he was, the friction got to him in no time.

He had to let go, and he did. He gasped at the intensity of the orgasm, hot kicks of ejaculation driven hard from his c**k and balls. Rebecca went a second later, her involuntary cry muffled against his neck.

He suspected he’d remember the sound of that for a while.

“Whew,” Rebecca said after a long moment.

Zane covered her mouth with his sweaty hand. Someone was coming toward them on the sidewalk—walking a dog, he thought.

“Stay still,” he instructed her very quietly. “I don’t think they’ll notice us.”

The person didn’t seem to, talking nonsense to his dog and humming an off-key show tune. By the time he was gone, Rebecca was biting her lip against laughing. She’d unwrapped his belt already to free her wrists, so he rolled off her. She straightened her dress and wriggled her bra back on. She tried to get the convertible’s seat up, but she needed his help for that.

Her amusement remained apparent through all of it.

“We’re both completely crazy,” she declared.

Her hair was sticking up all over, actually more stylish than it had been before.

“Maybe,” Zane said, giving in to the urge to smooth it, “but I’m pretty sure we need to do that again, preferably in a bed.”

To his astonishment, her smile faded.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said.

~

Rebecca saw she’d dumbfounded him, though he tried to act like it was no big deal. “Why would you say that?” he asked calmly.

She wasn’t certain how to explain. What were the guy rules for two friends fooling around with the same woman? As to that, what were the girl rules for pointing out they had? She did her best not to squirm under his regard.

“I don’t want to cause trouble between you and your partner.”

“Trey and I don’t run each other’s sex lives. I mean, he wouldn’t like me upsetting his new chef. Other than that, I don’t see why he’d care.”

He wasn’t telling the complete truth. She knew that from her experiences riding herd on the twins. Maybe he saw the suspicion in her eyes. “Call me crazy,” he said, turning it back on her, “but you seemed to enjoy what we did.”

She’d more than enjoyed it. She’d been as shocked by his ability to divine her unsuspected kinks as she’d been by Trey’s. “Of course I enjoyed it,” she said aloud. “Maybe this is just too fast for me.”

“I can slow down. I . . . like you, Rebecca. Why don’t you take tonight to think about it? I’ll call you tomorrow.”

In her admittedly limited experience, guys rarely meant they would call when they said that. If Zane didn’t mean it, it would let her off the hook of this dilemma.

“All right,” she said, opening her door and getting out. “Call me tomorrow.”

I won’t be disappointed if you don’t, she swore to herself as she went inside.

CHAPTER EIGHT

On the Menu

TREY had Elaine arrange his Wednesday appointment with Rebecca. He told himself it made sense to talk at the Lounge. Rebecca could confirm that the kitchen and dining room were set up to suit her. Yes, Zane was back in Boston and, yes, he might read something in Trey’s body language if he saw him with her. That wasn’t why Trey didn’t want Rebecca at headquarters. He had no plans to pursue her. Anything Zane might misinterpret was moot.

Aware the excuse was slim, he shook his head and opened his laptop at one of the dining room’s finished booths. He’d come early, and Rebecca wasn’t there. Possibly, he should have had sex with Zane more than once this morning. The thought of his new chef arriving made his libido feel antsy.

He’d left the street entrance open, but Rebecca knocked anyway. Trey’s palms broke into a sweat as he went to greet her.

“Hey,” he said. “Glad you made it.”

This wasn’t very bosslike, but he was grateful anything came out of his mouth. His pulse was going haywire, his eyes trying to drink in every part of her at once. It wasn’t normal to be this happy about another human being’s presence.

“Come in,” he said, stepping back to give her room.

She came, ran her gaze around, and turned back to smile at him. “It looks great,” she said delightedly. “It’s more finished than last time.”

He reminded himself she was delighted because she’d be cooking here, not because she was with him. His c**k wasn’t listening. It was throwing a little party inside his Calvin Kleins.

“Should we sit?” he offered, gesturing toward the booth he’d chosen.

She jerked as if her thoughts might have wandered too. “Sure,” she said. She held up the computer tablet she’d been clutching to the side of her crisp white shirt. “I brought some suggestions for the menu. I realize you’re a foodie and probably have your own ideas. I promise I’m not married to what I’m proposing.”