The Undercover Billionaire Page 10

  But … he hadn’t been with anyone for six months if what he’d said was true. So maybe he’d respond to her? Maybe?

  What about your heart? Your pride?

  Too late for her heart and as for her pride, she’d sacrifice that without a second thought if it meant getting out of here.

  Besides, there was no room for secret hopes and dreams, not now. Not that there had been any in the first place, but still. He’d given her the truth, torched their friendship to the ground, and now even that didn’t matter anymore.

  She knew exactly where she stood. He didn’t care about her and he never had.

  The pain of it cut deep, but again she shoved the emotion away, trying to view the problem objectively. Her inexperience was a serious stumbling block. She’d never seduced a guy before, but obviously she knew the mechanics. Knew that for a blow job you basically opened your mouth and.… sucked?

  Logically that was the way to go, though. She wouldn’t have to get naked, wouldn’t have to worry about her virginity. All she had to do was put him in her mouth and make him come, and then with any luck, he’d go off to sleep.

  What if he doesn’t?

  Olivia inhaled then let out another shaky breath. If he didn’t, then she’d have to think of something else, but this plan was as good as it got.

  The only question now was how to broach the subject without making him suspicious? Because after she’d pushed him away so fiercely, he was going to guess that something was up, that something had made her change her mind.

  Olivia stared at the bedroom doors for a long minute.

  Then, her heart thumping, she moved over to the minibar and opened it, taking out a mini bottle of bourbon and forcing herself to approach the bedroom.

  She lifted her hand and gave a soft knock. “Wolf? Can I come in?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Wolf scowled at the sound of the knock and debated whether or not to tell her simply to go away. Because the last person in the entire world he wanted to see right now was her.

  Especially given how spectacularly he’d blown up this entire fucking situation. Christ, if he’d ever needed any proof he couldn’t organize a piss-up in a brewery, this was it. His plan—such as it was—had been badly thought out and poorly executed, and when things had gotten tough, he hadn’t doubled down to get it done, he’d pressed the button and exploded it right in his face.

  If his COs ever learned of it, they’d make him hand over his trident—and he would, without a second’s thought.

  He wasn’t sure if it was even possible to fuck up more than he had already, but apparently, it was.

  That truth had come out whether he’d wanted it to or not, and he hadn’t been able to shut himself up, running at the mouth about how their entire friendship was a lie. That he’d only gotten close to her because his father had told him to.

  He should never have said it, but he’d gotten so damn angry. Story of his fucking life. His SEAL training had been tough for precisely that reason, because he struggled to keep his feelings locked down and always had, no matter how hard his father had ridden him about it. But in the end he’d succeeded by burying them all beneath a fuck-you smile and a give-no-shits attitude.

  Yet talking to Olivia, telling her the truth, had tripped something inside him and he hadn’t been able to get a grip on the fury that had coursed through him. Fury at his father for dying before Wolf ever got the chance for the acknowledgment he wanted. Fury at Cesare de Santis for taking that chance away and for keeping Wolf’s mother under threat, keeping him from the family he’d always wanted.

  Fury at Olivia for believing it was all real when it wasn’t.

  Fury at himself for letting it matter and for not being able to lock it the fuck down when he should.

  So much goddamn fury.

  And he still hadn’t gotten what he wanted out of her, and he didn’t know what his next step was going to be.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded, staring at the closed doors.

  “Are you hungry?” Her voice was slightly muffled. “There’s all this food out here.”

  Why was she asking him that? Why was she speaking to him at all? After everything he’d said?

  Ignoring her, he looked down at his phone, swiping through his list of contacts. Perhaps he should call Lucas. Talk to him about the evidence he’d collected on de Santis’s gun-running operation, see if he had any links to May. Then again, maybe not. He didn’t want Lucas to know what he was planning, and the asshole would definitely try to get that out of him.

  Then fucking pull yourself together and stop sulking like a goddamn baby.

  Yeah, he should. He really should. His COs didn’t need to demand his trident; he’d hand it in himself for being such pussy.

  There was a soft click.

  He looked up.

  Olivia had come in anyway and was standing in the doorway. In that stupid nightgown, with her glossy dark brown hair down her back and no makeup, she looked as fresh-faced as a little girl. Except that little girls generally didn’t have mini bottles of bourbon in their hands.

  “What?” He made no effort to hide his bad temper. There wasn’t any reason to after all, not now. “I’m not hungry.”

  “No, but are you thirsty?” She held up the bottle, coming over to the bed where he was sitting.

  Bourbon. A mistake, given that scotch he’d just downed. Then again, why the fuck shouldn’t he? Sure, he had to watch over Olivia, but it wasn’t like she was getting out of here anytime soon, at least not by herself.

  Hell, there wasn’t much else to do but drink, at least until he could think of a better plan, so why the fuck not?

  He put his phone on the nightstand and took the bottle she was holding out. Unscrewing the cap, he tipped his head back, taking a deep swallow. It was smooth going down, setting up a warm glow in the pit of his stomach.

  Settling back against the pillows, he looked up at her.

  She was standing beside the bed, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. There was a by-now familiar crease between her dark brows, and the way they flicked up at the ends made her look slightly wicked, now that he thought about it.

  “Well”—he took another swallow of the bourbon, eyeing her—“you got something to say to me?”

  Her gaze was direct and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “I want to do a deal with you.”

  “A deal? What kind of deal?”

  “I’ll do something for you if … you do something for me.”

  He took another swig of the bourbon. “Yeah, yeah, that’s usually what deals are. Christ, give me the specifics, Liv.”

  Her delicate fingers knotted as if she was nervous, yet there was a very determined slant to her jaw that told him she was going to do this come hell or high water. “I’ll give you the information you want, if…” She stopped, then looked away from him. Color stained her cheekbones.

  What the hell was going on now? He hadn’t known what he’d expected when the truth about his double-agent status came out, but he’d have thought anger would be the least of it.

  When he’d told her, she’d gone white and shocked looking, and he’d stormed off because he’d needed to get away from her and the pain in her eyes, the hurt that felt like a knife in his own soul.

  He’d been prepared for her anger, yet it wasn’t anger in her eyes now. It was definitely nervousness, which he didn’t understand. What kind of deal was she trying to make with him?

  “If what?” he prompted when she didn’t say anything.

  Olivia kept her gaze on the wall behind his head, remaining silent so long he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she inhaled and her deep blue gaze came to his. “While we’re being honest with each other, there’s something you should know. I kind of lied when I told you that I didn’t want you. The truth is … I do.”

  That wasn’t a surprise. He’d known it the moment she hadn’t been able to drag her gaze from his chest, and the kiss he’d given her, the wa
y she’d remained completely still under his mouth, had only confirmed it.

  “And?” He took another swig from the bottle, the bourbon glowing warmly inside him, making everything seem a shitload better than it had five minutes ago.

  Her blue eyes were dark. “I’ve actually wanted you since I was fifteen years old, Wolf. The moment I saw you.”

  It took a while for the shock to get past the bourbon in his veins, but when it did, all he could do was stare at her. “Seriously? But, you never said—”

  “I didn’t say anything because you were a Tate. You were the enemy. And then when you weren’t the enemy anymore, I was too shy to say anything. I wasn’t used to talking to people much, not people who were interested in me and I…” She stopped again, glancing away, her throat moving as she swallowed. “I didn’t want to do anything that would stop you coming to the library.”

  Something twisted in his chest, a knife turning, scraping bone.

  Jesus, why did that hurt? It made no sense. Their friendship hadn’t even been real in the first place, so the loss of it shouldn’t have hurt. Certainly hearing her tell him how she’d wanted him shouldn’t.

  Apparently though, it did.

  He couldn’t think of a word to say to that, but luckily, she went on without waiting for him to speak.

  “So anyway, I wanted you. And I guess I still do. And since our friendship doesn’t matter anymore and those conversations we had in the library are long gone, I thought now is as good a chance as any to get what I want.” She glanced back at him again and her chin lifted slightly, her back straightening. Steeling herself for whatever it was she had to say.

  You already know what she’s going to say.

  Yeah, he had some idea. For some reason it made his pulse begin to accelerate, his heartbeat sounding oddly loud in his ears.

  She held his gaze this time, her hands twisted in front of her. “I want to give you an orgasm. A … you know … a b-blow j-job.”

  Holy shit. That was not the first thing he’d thought she’d say. Maybe another kiss or maybe she wanted to touch him again, but a blow job?

  “You’re kidding me,” he said incredulously. “Now?”

  The color in her cheeks blazed, a small blue flame of anger lighting her eyes, obviously not pleased with his reaction. “Yes, now,” she snapped. “And don’t look at me like that. You were the one who told me you hadn’t been with anyone in six months.” One brow arched. “Or was that yet another lie?”

  Fucking hell. This was insane.

  Shock seeped slowly through him. He’d kissed her and she’d pushed him away, making it very clear she didn’t want to go any further. Yet now she was coming in here and telling him she wanted to give him a BJ? What the fuck was going on?

  “Seriously?” he demanded, ignoring the question. “After you shoved me away before, now you suddenly want to suck my cock?”

  Her chin lifted even higher, the look on her face becoming haughty despite her flaming cheeks. “I shoved you away because you didn’t want me, you only wanted the information I had and apparently didn’t mind seducing me for it. So now I’ve decided that since you don’t care about me or our friendship, I’ll take a little something for myself. You get to have an orgasm and the information you want, while I … I get to have one of my fantasies and then you let me go.”

  Christ, this was the last thing he was expecting. And it should have been a relatively simple thing to say “No, I don’t want a blow job,” because really, he couldn’t take her up on it. Not after the things he’d said to her. Not after the way he’d hurt her.

  And yet …

  He couldn’t stop looking into her serious blue eyes, because they were always serious. That was Olivia. A serious, earnest little thing, whose face had lit up whenever she’d seen him and whom he’d always looked forward to seeing, too. It had been wrong to let himself like her knowing that in the end he’d betray her, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

  Even now, even in this fucked-up mess of a situation he’d created, he felt a kind of respect for her. That he’d been an utter prick to her and yet here she was, facing him down, taking something for herself despite everything he’d done. Finding her own way out of the situation and quite frankly doing it a hell of a lot better than he was.

  Or maybe that was bourbon talking. Hell, he couldn’t tell.

  He let his head fall back on the pillows. “So lemme get this straight. You’ll give me the information and in return I let you give me head.”

  “Yes.” She gave a little nod. “That’s right.”

  “Okay, first of all, a girl never needs to ask me if she can suck my dick because the answer will always be yes. And second, this sounds like a fucking one-sided deal to me.”

  “Why? We both get what we want.”

  “Sure, but I get the best of it, don’t you think?”

  “Do you?” The look in her eyes was suddenly sharp. “You don’t want me, Wolf. You never did. So I can’t imagine what you’re getting out of it, barring an orgasm of course.”

  He hadn’t wanted her, no. And he could see how that hurt her. But now … well, that wasn’t quite the case. The thought of her lovely rosebud mouth closing around his cock.… A hot rush swept through him, all the blood in his body heading south.

  But that was because he hadn’t had sex for six months, surely? Wanting her in particular, after all the lies he’d fed her, seemed wrong. Then again, could he afford to turn her down if that would give him the information about May he needed? If she gave him access to her father’s schedule?

  Yeah, tell yourself it’s all about the intel.

  He ignored the thought, turning his head on the pillow. “You really want to do this?”

  She didn’t look away and didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “After everything I said to you?”

  “Yes.”

  He studied her, noting the color in her cheeks. She didn’t look afraid. She looked … determined.

  Sexy. Not.

  “Have you ever done it before?” he asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

  “No,” she said, confirming his suspicions. Then she sniffed. “But I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

  Jesus. He was starting to feel a bit muzzy around the edges. He normally had a good head for alcohol, but he’d cut back while he’d been on deployment and it was becoming apparent that little sleep the night before, and a lot of spirits on top of a glass of wine, was a bad idea.

  He blinked slowly at her, finding himself focusing on her mouth. It really was perfect. Full bottom lip, cushiony top lip, and as he knew from that kiss, so fucking soft.

  Been a long time since he’d had a mouth like that one on him. A very, very long time.

  She’s inexperienced. She’s your friend. And now you’re going to let her give you a blow job. What the fuck are you doing?

  He didn’t know. But seeing as how she wasn’t his friend anymore and this had been all her idea, he was starting to think that he might let her do whatever she wanted to him. After all, he sure as hell didn’t have a better plan for getting that information.

  He forced himself to look at her and not fixate on her mouth. “You want me to tell you what to do?”

  “No.” She continued to give him that haughty look. “This isn’t for you, Wolf, understand? I’m taking this for me.”

  There was something in her eyes that made that knife scrape through him again, and he didn’t know whether it was loss or grief of pain, but what he did know was that he’d been the one to put it there.

  “I’m sorry,” he said impulsively, the words a touch more slurred than he would have liked them to be. “I’m sorry I lied, Liv. I’m sorry I hurt you. You were never meant—” He stopped. She’d always been going to get hurt and he knew it.

  She’d never had a friend, or so she’d told him. At least not one who listened to her the way he did. Locked away in her father’s house, she’d always been heavily protected. The young
est and the only girl, she hadn’t been allowed to go to school, being taught by an army of private tutors instead, everywhere she went being tailed by at least two bodyguards.

  Her life reminded him a bit of Chloe’s, his adoptive sister, but at least Chloe had the Tate ranch to roam around on. Olivia had nothing but her father’s Upper East Side mansion. She hadn’t seemed to mind though. She’d told him that she liked that her father protected her. It made her feel cared for, loved …

  “Don’t apologize.” Grown-up Olivia’s calm, practical voice this time, edged with sweetness. “I know you don’t mean it.”

  “Bullshit,” he muttered. “Of course I mean it. Hurting you was never the intention.”

  “But you knew what would happen if I found out.” She was staring down at his groin now, a frown creasing her forehead, as if working out how to get started. “And you went ahead and did it anyway.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “You should stop talking now.” Before he could respond, Olivia put out a tentative hand and brushed the front of his fly with her fingertips.

  And all the breath left his body.

  * * *

  She heard it, the sudden hiss as she let her fingers graze the denim of his jeans, right down the front of his zipper. The material felt rough against her skin and she could feel the outline of him beneath it. Long. Hard. Getting harder.

  She blinked and took her hand away, glancing up at his face.

  He was laying back against the pillows, his massive, long body stretched out on the comforter, ankles crossed, still with his boots on. The snowy white of the linen somehow made him seem even bigger, even more dangerous than he already was. He’d put his black thermal on again and that combined with the blue jeans, black boots, and his coal black hair, all those dark colors standing out against the white, made him look … almost demonic.

  Except for his eyes. Those special blue and green eyes. They were glowing now, and judging by the stain of color on his sculpted cheekbones, he was either starting to suffer the effects of the alcohol he’d been drinking or maybe her touch had actually affected him.

  “Do that again.” His voice was thick and gritty, full of sand.