The Billionaire’s Accidental Bride: (Part One) Read online

  For some reason, that sweet angel who was outside my booth is starting to creep into my thoughts again.

  When Lilac gives me a strange look, I ignore it. She only smiles professionally, nods her head to me, and leaves without another word. I start feeling the walls closing in on me again, the void of loneliness, and I yank the vodka bottle out of the bucket by its neck. There’re other ways than women to chase away whatever’s ailing me, and, for the rest of the night, I’m going to drink, gamble, and then go back to my enormous high roller suite at the Venetian and pass out.

  But after I pour my vodka, my mind is once again clouded by that girl in white. My cock starts pounding. The lining of my stomach pulls into knots, and the tighter it gets, the more I need a release.

  It’s not that I’m smitten or something. I don’t get smitten. Love doesn’t exist—I’m not even sure my prick of a dad even loved my mom before she passed away years ago—and I sure as hell don’t think love at first sight exists. Jesus. The only thing I do believe in is money and the things it can buy, and, in my experience, everyone can be bought.

  Even angels.

  Fuck it—now I’m curious about her, and I’m drunk enough not to give a shit about pissing off yet another woman tonight if that’s the way my luck is going.

  I grasp the vodka bottle and leave the booth, searching the nightclub for that beautiful girl with the light blond hair and white dress. I don’t even have to walk very far because, there she is, filming some guy with her phone by the bar as he chats with her.

  A spark of jealousy lights me up, because in some way, this angel is already mine. But then that sparks turns into a flame, because I didn’t see the back of her before, and what I see is cock-bustingly gorgeous. Under her tight white dress, her ass is like two round pieces of fruit that I’m dying to squeeze. I have no idea who she is, but she’s real, and I want.

  I’m going to have.

  As I lean against the bar, I swig from my bottle and feel the iced drink tumble down my throat and warm my gut. I fix my gaze on the guy who’s with the angel, and when he sees me looming, his words slow to a trickle. His Adam’s apple bobs as he shuts up and swallows hard. He doesn’t even say goodbye to her as he slides off the stool and scrams.

  The angel slowly looks over her shoulder and up at me. Her pupils expand, taking me in, and for a moment, I almost fall into them, completely consumed. Something catches in my chest just before I pull myself back out and offer her my most persuasive smile.

  Normally, I don’t even have to say a damned word. If I jerk my chin toward my booth, she’ll come with me. That’s all it ever takes.

  But this girl just blinks, gives me an odd look, and then takes off again.

  Maybe I really am drunk enough to be hallucinating her.

  But then I see her threading her way through the crowd of people. It’s not hard to track her since I stand a head above the crowd. It’s not even hard to catch up, and when I ease in front of her and bring her to a stop, we’re at the less crowded bar at the back of the pulsing room.

  “Did I do something to chase you off?” I ask with that guaranteed-to-work smile.

  She seems surprised that I’m talking to her, and she’s obviously unsure of what to say to me. Under the low, warm lighting, I can tell she’s blushing. I’m not used to blushes, and my veins are in a tug of war, blood jerking through them with such force that it leaves me aching.

  She finally speaks, and I have to bend down to hear her over the music. “I wasn’t running!”

  Her breath is a hot whisper against my ear, and I contain my hunger as I angle my mouth toward her ear. Damn, her hair smells like orange blossoms. “You were rapidly headed somewhere.”

  She takes a step back from me—that’s a fucking first—and holds up her phone like it’s a shield keeping me at a distance. There’s a list on the screen, and I squint at it, realizing it’s a scavenger hunt for a bachelorette party.

  I smoothly take the phone from her to get a closer look, and she starts to protest until I bend to her and say, “Tell me you’re not the one getting married.”

  “No.” She grabs her phone back. “My best friend is. I’m the maid of honor.”

  Maid, not matron. Good sign.

  She crosses her arms over her chest, which is not a good sign. “You just stopped me from checking off one of my scavenger items back at the bar.”

  “Which item?”

  Is it possible that her blush gets even deeper? “I needed to find a guy who’d give advice to the bride about performing a…” She takes another step back from me. “Never mind.”

  “Blow job?”

  Her eyes widen.

  She really is innocent, and my body nearly rips itself apart with lust, because how can someone with curves like this and blowjob lips like that be shocked just by hearing the words?

  I lift an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re unfamiliar with what a blowjob is.”

  She looks flustered. “Listen, I’m just doing this for the party. I’m not going to sit here talking about BJs with a complete stranger.”

  “You were just doing that at the bar.”

  “Yes, until you interrupted. It was painful enough then, but now I have to do it again, thanks to you.”

  She sticks a finger at my chest to emphasize her point, and when she wobbles in her high heels, I reach out to steady her. She dodges me like she’s got a lot of experience avoiding dicks like me, but I think she’s as drunk as I am. God, there’s something about her that has me staying right here, determined as hell to win her over. Maybe it’s because she’s beautiful, and I’m not sure she even knows it.

  “I’ll tell you what.” I point toward my booth with my bottle. “I’ve got a place where I can give you a quiet interview.”

  “Oh, right. You want me to go to a curtained booth with you.”

  “Curtained? It’s the same thinly veiled booth you were peeking into earlier.”

  “I was only looking for guys to help me with this hunt.”

  “And I can help you.” I smile again. “You’re absolutely safe with me.”

  She narrows her eyes. “You don’t seem very safe.”

  “Trust me.”

  She narrows her gaze even more. Smart girl, but that won’t make a difference. I’ve had a lot of smart girls and, tonight I want what I want, and now that I’m in pursuit, I’m not walking away. If it takes acting like a gentleman to have her, I’ll oblige. “The interview even comes with a bonus. Order anything you want, and it’s yours. I only require one thing from you.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Your name.”

  She gives me a suspicious, hazy look, then shrugs. “Everly.”

  Everly. It even sounds like heaven, and my night brightens a little. My smile grows. “I’m Jaden.”

  We don’t need more than first names.

  Not for what I have in mind.

  3

  Everly

  As I walk across the room toward Jaden’s booth, I try to get my head together. But every time I remind myself that the hottest guy on earth appeared out of thin air to flirt with me, I have to laugh. I mean…hi, there! I’m Everly Madigan, a plain old hairdresser from little ol’ Norfolk whose life has just taken a stunning turn. One minute I was trying not to die of embarrassment while I interviewed some random dude at the bar about blowjobs for the scavenger hunt, and the next minute Mr. Perfect is smiling down at me in a way that gave me some majorly delicious shivers. I’m already wet for him, and I just get wetter with every step we take toward his private, harem-curtained, soft porn-lookin’ palace where he’s going to help me with my scavenger hunt.

  We’re going to talk about blowjobs there—for Rachelle, of course. Not for me. Heck, the one time I had to give fellatio to the most serious boyfriend I ever had, I was not impressed. And that went for sex in general, too.

  I could care less about sex.

  But what if Jaden is thinking this is just what he’s going to get from m
e in his booth of sin? No, wait—here’s a better question. What’s his deal? Did he sense an easy conquest after he saw me melting into a pool of lust outside his booth and then his penis led him right to me at the bar? Damn, I must be sending off some heavy-duty pheromones tonight, but I ain’t complaining, because when will I ever get to hang out with someone as astoundingly yummy as this guy again? Yeah, Jaden seems like an arrogant bastard, but I can at least have a drink with him and talk about blowjobs for Rachelle, can’t I?

  I’m still a pile of nerves about what might happen in that booth, but then, just before we get there, I peer across the room and see Rachelle, Tanya, Cindy, and Millie. They’re in front of Richard’s booth, obviously using him and his friends for the scavenger hunt. Bad girls! But seeing them flirting and cuddling up to the boys only convinces me all the more that I’m also just doing what everyone does in Vegas—having fun, being a dork. We’re all miles from home, on vacation, trying to forget that there’ll be consequences when we get back to Norfolk.

  God, consequences. Whenever I think of the steel plant shutting down, I seethe. Okay, that’s it. I am going to let off steam, dammit! And the more I think about Jaden’s light gray eyes—oh, such hot gray eyes that seem to pierce me and make me breathless—I get even weaker. But it’s not like I can take a cocky guy like him seriously. I mean, he’s dressed to the nines in that silk designer shirt, clearly rich, and so beyond me in the looks department that I know he’s not actually interested interested in me. He’s in Vegas, too, and after we have that drink and I interview him about BJs for Rachelle…

  We’ll definitely see what happens, hah.

  An out-of-control giggle creeps up on me, and I stifle it, attempting to act sober as Jaden pulls aside the curtain of his booth. I don’t even look at him as I go straight for a seat and plop into it. He hands me his vodka bottle and I shrug, then take a swig as he slides in next to me.

  Oh, he smells so damned good. I expected a guy like him to be wearing too much designer cologne, but he smells like skin and soap, a heady combination that makes something in my belly bloom and heat up again. I can even feel vibrations between us as he leans back in the buttery-leather seat and rests his strong arm on the back of it. My hair brushes against him and my pulse stomps around in me like it’s demanding more.

  I tentatively lean back so my head is resting against his firm biceps. Muscles! And I really love his dark hair, which isn’t as perfect as it was before. A hank is slouching over his forehead now, like he’s an evil prince in a romance book, all arrogant smiles and bad thoughts.

  I blow out a breath and take another long, leisurely drink of the vodka.

  He raises a dark eyebrow. “Now that we’re someplace quieter, you were going to ask me to give you some advice?”

  That’s right. BJs for the bride.

  Holy shit, I’m about to talk about blowjobs with this god whose fingers are presently toying with my hair. Feels real warm in here. Feels soooo good.

  I resist the urge to sigh. Instead, I lift my phone up to record the sex tips he’s about to give me. He takes the vodka bottle from me and indulges in a long drink himself, never looking away from me all the while. The girls are never going to believe someone so hot is even talking to me.

  I clear my throat. “So what advice do you have for Rachelle about…you know.”

  “Blowjobs.”

  “Yeah. Those.”

  He sends me an amused smile that strokes my naughty parts. “She should give them to her husband often.”

  “Hah!” I lift myself away from his arm and then snatch the vodka from his clutches. “I’m sure you just rocked my friend’s world with that earth-shattering piece of widsom. Now, seriously—what can you actually tell her about fellatio?”

  I tilt the bottle to my lips, swigging away. I shove the vodka back at him and he accepts it with another tempting smile.

  Sigh.

  “All right, pretty Everly.” His fingers go still in my hair as he takes a drink. When he’s done, he continues petting me. “The best advice I can give is basically a cliché.”

  Um…I’m still back on the pretty Everly part. I guess he hasn’t seen my nose yet with its little bump that my friends say is cute, even though they’re wrong. He’s even still stroking my hair slowly, expertly. I flush like hell. My clit throbs with tiny, awesome beats, because he…is…so…hot.

  “Go on,” I say in a strangled whisper.

  “Go on complimenting you?”

  “Yes, please.” Then I shake my head and laugh, because I meant that he should be talking about blowjobs. Of course.

  He looks into my camera, and in that low, persuasive voice of his, he murmurs, “Here’s my sage advice for the bride—just relax and think about ice cream cones on a summer day.” He addresses me. “Is that good enough?”

  I’m still back on ice cream cones. I’m thinking about slow licks and the hot sun and how I’m starting to feel like melting cream is bathing my pussy all over.

  Pussy.

  I hold back another laugh. I can actually think about the word pussy and not get all embarrassed about it. Getting drunk in Vegas is the best.

  “You think my advice is funny,” he says. “But I think the ice cream cone comparison is simple and effective.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “Were you looking for more…detailed advice?”

  Before I can answer, he trails his fingertips down until they’re resting against my neck. Under my dress, my nipples tighten, and my belly starts to quiver.

  I think he notices, too, because his eyes get hazy, as if he’s thinking about me giving him some fellatio. Yeah, good luck with that, although as I look at his lips—especially the full lower one—I realize that I’m 100% for kissing him.

  I grab the vodka from him again, and it’s bombs a-fuckin’ away. After I pull the bottle away from my lips, I realize that Jaden is tracing his fingers over my neck, and oh, then he eases under my hair, and when I make eye contact with him, he’s watching me intensely. My pussy clenches with overwhelming need.

  He leans closer, out of the view of my phone, although that doesn’t quite matter after he presses his leg against mine and I drop the damned thing to the seat.

  His whisper flutters the hair near my ear with the same kind of humidity that’s steaming me up from the inside out. “What if I told you that guys enjoy some build up before the actual blowjob? Is that good advice?”

  “You mean foreplay?” I whisper back.

  “Yup. Guys like it just as much as girls do.”

  “They do not.”

  “This guy does.” He presses his mouth flush against my ear. “What the hell kind of guys have you been dating, Heavenly?”

  “Name’s Everly,” I murmur ecstatically.

  “But you look and smell so damned heavenly.”

  He nips at my earlobe and I just about fly through the roof with the carnal shock that bolts through me. My clit is buzzing now, humming with anticipation.

  Girls like me don’t do stuff like this.

  But I am.

  God, I am.

  I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing in sheer joy, but I only bite harder as he kisses me behind my ear in a sweet spot I never knew I had. Electricity jets through me, setting my nerve endings on fire.

  He whispers into my ear again. “Think of what you like to have done to you, and then try doing it on a guy to work him up before you go down on him.”

  Oh, God, his straightforwardness makes me squirm, but in a good way—a way that brings a sharp ache to my clit. A new kind of ache that sweeps me away on a wave of intoxicated desire, and suddenly, I’m beyond all-in with Jaden. I don’t care if I’m never going to see him again or if he has the ability to come off like an asshole. I could give a drunk shit about anything but the feel of his fingers as he coaxes my hair aside to expose my neck, then kisses me below my jawline.

  “Tell me what you like,” he whispers against my skin. “And I’ll give you the best fucki
ng night of your life…”

  4

  Jaden

  As I nuzzle Everly’s neck, my senses are full of her orange-blossom scent and the sweet, heady lure of her skin. I really meant what I just said—that I want to give her the best fucking night of her life—because there’s something here. Got to be chemistry. But even though she turns me on like no woman I’ve ever met, I tell myself it’s just because I’m drunk off my ass.

  I only want some ass, and hers will do for tonight.

  I kiss her soft neck again as she breathes quietly and deeply. It’s obvious that she’s thinking about my promise, letting it sink in. I can feel the wild pulse of her vein against my lips, and for a terrible moment, I think she might remember she’s an angel and tell me to go straight to hell. With as sassy as she is, it wouldn’t surprise me.

  But she surprises me even more with her next move.

  She grips the vodka bottle with one hand and then hooks her other arm around my neck, pulling me into a crushing kiss. All my thoughts crash into each other, a blast of heat, a bang of light that obliterates everything but the feel of her mouth under mine.

  Soft. Demanding. Pure.

  Hell, yes.

  Hot blood flares through me, scorching me as I tug her closer. My cock is already hard and ready to blast off, but something tells me to slow things down, even as agony takes me over. I don’t want this angel to fly away again. So I tangle my fingers in her silky hair and slow the kiss down, sucking off of her bottom lip. She’s half in my lap, and she only seems to realize as much as we pause, panting against each other’s mouths. I’m sure she’s also realizing that she’s here with me, a stranger in a semi-private booth in a beating, blushing nightclub. I’m hoping the angel’s got a little devil in her, and my cock strains against my zipper.

  “Oh,” she finally whispers against me.

  The innocent sound charges me up even more, but I resist the primal urge to grab her and take her somewhere even more private where I can go balls-deep into her, fucking away all my demons.