The Billionaire Biker Page 7
“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Sean stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers since he didn’t know where else to put them. “I have nothing in common with these people.”
“‘Hello’ and ‘how are you’ is always a good start.”
Sean lifted a shoulder. Weird how he could make a whole roomful of club members go silent with one raise of his eyebrow, but make nice to a roomful of rich assholes? Now that was hard.
The party was being held in the Morrow building since Jax wanted the family name front and center, in one of the function rooms up near the top of the building, the New York skyline a glittering backdrop beyond the windows.
The room was full of equally glittering people, all expensively dressed, with perfect hair and white teeth, and so slick they were like sheets of oil.
He’d never felt so out of place in his whole damn life, not even the day he’d been brought to live in the Morrows’ Manhattan town house, Patrick Morrow’s scandalous bastard. The tie around his neck felt too tight, the suit felt stiff as armor encasing him, and he hated the way everyone kept looking at him. He was used to being the background, the silent menacing presence that no one looked at but everyone knew about.
It made him feel like he was back in that town house all over again. Ignored by his father and the target of his stepmother’s bitter resentment. And helpless, so goddamn helpless to do anything about it.
Fuck. He wanted out of here so badly it was all he could do not to head straight for the door. Not that he would, of course … not when he was here for Abby.
And speaking of …
He started searching through the crowd again, trying to figure out where she’d got to.
She’d been at his side since they’d arrived, but about ten minutes earlier she’d gone off to speak to someone and hadn’t come back, and now he felt weirdly naked without her presence. She’d done a lot of the talking for him, interacting with people easily, naturally, as if she’d been doing this all her life. Another change in her. Back when they were friends she’d always been shy and unsure of herself around other people, her self-confidence a casualty of her father’s rain of criticisms.
He scanned around the crowds of people, trying to spot her. At last, over by the bar set up down at one end of the room, he saw her, a small, slim green figure talking to another woman in a blue dress.
Abby looked polished and shiny, the silky sheen of her dress adding luster to her skin. No one would guess she’d been on the table in his suite, with that same dress up around her hips and her wrists bound by his tie, crying his name.
She certainly acted like she hadn’t been.
Which should have made him feel really good since she clearly wasn’t hurt or in any way adversely affected by what they’d done together.
But he didn’t feel good. An odd combination of self-loathing and anger sat in his gut instead. Self-loathing because he should never have crossed that line again, good sex or not. And anger because he’d tried to scare her off and in the end she’d matched him with everything she had, pushing their boundaries, taking them to places he never thought he’d go with her.
Making him want more.
While she blithely chatted to some woman as if nothing had fucking happened.
Had she felt that the way he had? Had she felt anything? The whole two days, ever since they’d met again, she’d calmly handed over the facts of her life, telling him she was over it and that she was moving on. While he was still struggling with the guilt, the grief, the pain, and now, the intense, desperate pleasure.
He scowled at her. No, hell, she did feel something. The anger in her gaze as she’d looked up at him, accusing him of thinking she wasn’t strong enough for him. That had been feeling. That had been honesty right there. But afterward she’d closed up again, reflecting it all back like a mirror.
Well, he’d be fucked if he let that keep happening. He’d given her plenty of opportunities to talk and she hadn’t taken up any of them.. Perhaps it was his turn to deal out some consequences. Make her feel it like he was feeling it.
Across the room, Abby, her conversation clearly over, turned and began to thread her way through the crowd back to him. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes shining.
“Hey,” she said as she came up to him. “Sorry, got caught up. I just got offered a job with the De Winter Group.”
The name was familiar to Sean but he couldn’t place it. “Is that good?”
“It’s excellent,” Donovan said from beside him. “De Winter is Victoria’s company and she doesn’t hire just anyone. That’s fantastic, Abby. Well done.”
“Thanks.” She was grinning. “I’m really excited. It’s a great opportunity. Victoria’s company sounds like it’s going to do great things.”
“I’m not surprised,” Donovan said. “Victoria is only taking on the best. She must have been really impressed with you. Jax will be pissed to know he lost you, though. I think he was hoping you’d stay.”
Unexpectedly, Abby’s gaze met Sean’s, a brief flash before she glanced back at Donovan again. “I think my time with Morrow is done, Van. I need something new to tackle.”
Donovan shrugged. “Okay, your call. But you know where to come if you find yourself getting bored. I’m sure we can offer you something more challenging.”
The discussion was starting to piss Sean off, which was weird because it sounded like a great opportunity for her and God knew she needed a few more great opportunities. “Good for you, Abby,” he said, forcing himself to smile. So what if she was moving on from Morrow as well? That didn’t matter to him, did it?
“Thanks.” Her gaze moved over him, eyes narrowing. “Anything wrong?”
“No,” he lied. “Are we done here yet? I’ve got shit to do tonight.”
Donovan gave him a surprised look. “You want to go now?”
“I’ve been here, what? Three hours? That’s enough.”
“Sean,” Abby began.
“How’s that headache of yours?” Sean said. “Are you sure you don’t need me to take you home?” He reached for her, sliding his hand beneath her elbow, looking down into her smoky green eyes. “You look a bit pale.”
“But I … ”
He said nothing, silently reminding her of her promise.
Abby’s jaw tightened. “Perhaps I’m not feeling the best after all.”
Donovan was looking at both of them. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Please, apologize to Jax for me.” She flicked a glance at Sean. “For both of us.”
“Yeah, okay. Take care of yourself, huh?”
Sean didn’t wait, giving Donovan a careless good-bye and nodding to Jax who was still deep in conversation with the old guy and who glanced at them, frowning, as they passed.
They took the elevator to the ground floor, and as soon as the elevator doors closed, he gripped her hips and backed her up against the wall.
She made a small shocked sound, her hands against his chest. “What are you doing?”
The warmth of her body, the soft subtle scent she wore, made him think about her on the table, of being inside her, of overwhelming her completely, and he was so hard it was difficult not to jerk up her dress and take her now.
“Giving you a taste of what I’ve been thinking about all evening,” he said roughly. “And what I want when we get back to the hotel.”
“I thought you wanted to talk?”
“I thought I did, too. But you don’t seem to like that idea.”
She glanced away. “We shouldn’t have left early. It’s not a good look.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit what it looks like. That’s not important. You don’t want to talk? Fine. I can’t force you. But I’m not going to let you go on pretending you don’t feel, either.”
Abby seemed to find his chest incredibly interesting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He gripped her chin in his fingers, forcing her gaze back to his. “Yes, you do.”
A pang of guilt hit him at that because he’d forgotten that her job was supposed to be making him look good, and he hadn’t exactly been helping. But hell, that could be another to add to the list of things he had to atone for.
There was a limo waiting for them outside the building, and it didn’t take long for them to get back to the hotel. Abby didn’t say a word to him the whole way, fiddling around on her cell phone like it was the most important thing in the world, while he sat there, trying to lock down his steadily rising temper.
Clearly she was intent on not making this easy, which shouldn’t have come as any great surprise. She hadn’t been making this easy since she’d walked into Jax’s office two days ago. Goddamn her.
Back in his suite, Abby moved down the hallway and out into the lounge area ahead of him, tossing her purse down on the couch before turning to face him, her arms folded as if she was defending herself against attack.
“All right,” she said flatly. “Let’s get this over with. You want a little chat? So, okay. I’ll chat.”
Sean pulled the knot of his tie, undoing it. “No. I’ve changed my mind.”
She rolled her eyes as if this was the most annoying thing she’d ever heard. “Fine. What do you want to do then?”
Jerking the tie out from under his collar, he wound it between his hands, pulling the material tight. Her gaze dropped to it, her mouth opening, her throat moving as she swallowed.
“Talking never got us anywhere,” he said. “So I’m thinking we should just screw instead.”
Color rose on her cheeks as her gaze met his. “I’m … not opposed to that.”
“Good. But if you want it, then you’re going to do it my way.” He began to walk toward her. “And that means following my rules.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because if you don’t, you can walk the hell out of this door right now.”
Chapter 6
Sean stood in front of her, six feet four inches of muscular, powerful male, a fierce, burning look in his eyes. The expression on his face was implacable and she had a sudden insight into how good he must have been at his job as enforcer. Because he was threatening. Dangerous. And so goddamn sexy he stole her breath.
A mix of excitement and fear tightened in the pit of her stomach.
Follow his rules? Like hell. Except then she’d have to walk out that door and she didn’t want to do that. Not when he’d changed his mind about talking. Because screwing she was okay with. More than okay with.
Weren’t you not going to do it again?
Well, yes. But then she hadn’t counted on quite how good it would be with him.
Or quite how overwhelming.
Her mouth dried, a shaky feeling moving through her. Overwhelming was an understatement, but there had been a kind of release in giving herself over to the pleasure, more than she’d ever imagined was possible. And maybe she wanted that release again.
“What are your rules then?”
“I get to touch you anywhere I want but you’re not allowed to touch me.”
She blinked, the image of Sean’s hands roaming all over her naked body winding through her head. Her breathing quickened, a prickle of electricity whispering over her skin.
“Isn’t that half the fun?”
“That’s my rule,” he said flatly. “You know where the door is if you don’t like it.”
Dammit. She took an unsteady breath. “I thought bikers didn’t like rules.”
“The ones we make ourselves are different.”
She glanced down at the fabric held taut between his strong hands. “So I’m guessing you want to tie my hands again, right?”
“Yes.” Hunger burned in his eyes along with a determination she recognized. His stubborn will. He wasn’t going to be moved on this, she could tell. “I don’t want you touching me.”
“Okay, so w-what are you going to do then?” Stupid damn stutter. She wasn’t nervous, she wasn’t scared. Or desperate or needy. She’d come through hell and she was strong.
“I’m going to make you feel, Abby. Now, are you staying or are you going to run away?”
Well, in Sean’s inimitable vocabulary: fuck that.
She walked forward till she was standing right up close to him, the heat from his body soaking into her, making her dry-mouthed and hungry with want. His gaze had darkened into black and she knew he felt it, too.
“What? Like you ran away?” She put a hand on his thigh, feeling strong muscle beneath the dark blue wool. “I don’t think so.”
His eyes gleamed beneath his eyelashes, a lock of blond hair falling over his brow. “Turn around.”
She could take this. She could take him. She was stronger than he could possibly imagine.
Abby lifted her chin and turned, giving him her back. In front of her were the windows, the neon of the city beyond. But she couldn’t see much, not with the lights on.
Sean tugged on the zipper of her dress. She caught her breath as she felt the material loosen, a shudder going through her, anticipation coiling tight. Then his hands were on her shoulders, easing the dress from her, letting it pool at her feet in a tangle of green silk.
He didn’t stop, and she felt his hands undoing her bra and getting rid of that, too, then her panties for the second time that day.
She shivered as she stepped out of them, acutely aware of her nakedness. Her heart was thudding in her chest, the pulsing ache between her thighs deepening.
“Hands behind your back.”
And she shivered again at the deep rasp of his voice behind her. Fear chased down her spine but she ignored it. There was no room for fear anymore. She’d left that behind the day she’d lost her baby. The day she’d left behind a lot of things. Pain. Anger. Regret.
Now there was only desire and pleasure. Power and strength. The future, not the past. Abby put her hands behind her back, feeling the soft pull of the tie as Sean wrapped it around her wrists, binding her firmly. Not too tight, but enough to know she couldn’t pull her wrists apart and be free. Her breathing began to get faster, harder. “Easy so far,” she said. “Is that the best you can do? Because we’ve done that before. If you remember.”
He didn’t say anything, but she felt his fingers hook into the bindings around her wrists and slowly pull her backward. She went with it, stumbling a little, but he didn’t go too fast, letting her find her balance again.
“Stop,” he said after a moment.
She turned to look over her shoulder to see the long, red covered couch sitting behind her. Then she sucked in a breath as Sean moved in front of her, his hands on the bare skin of her hips, easing her down onto the couch so she was sitting on it.
It felt weird to be sitting on the edge of the couch, completely naked, with her hands tied behind her back. Exposed. Fighting the feeling, she looked up at him.
His eyes were dark, his jaw tight. He didn’t say a word as he shrugged off his jacket and began to undo his shirt, discarding both items of clothing onto the floor. Then he began to unbuckle his belt. She swallowed as he pulled the belt out of the belt-loops, coiling it around one hand while he shoved his pants down, taking his boxers with them.
Abby bit her lip. He was beautiful. Tanned skin and hard muscle, a scattering of dark blond hair on his chest, the long, thick length of his erection brushing against his abs.
He looked dangerous and wild, and the need crowding in the back of her throat almost choked her.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered.
She wanted to fight him. Wanted to push him. Hurt him even.
The way he hurt you?
She shifted on the couch. “No.” Both to the voice in her head and to him.
The look in his eyes flared. “You know what an enforcer does? He enforces the rules. That was my job. And you know what? I was good
at it. So the next time you disobey me, I’m going to have to do some enforcing.”
Abby bared her teeth, a wild surge of excitement bursting inside her. “Screw you and your rules. I don’t have to do what you say.”
“Are you sure you want to do that, sweetheart?” With a flick of his hand he uncoiled the belt so half of it hung free. “Because I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
She couldn’t stop looking at the length of leather that hung from his powerful fist. Crap, what was he going to do? More importantly, what was he going to do with that? Excitement twisted tighter, the pulsing ache between her thighs intensifying. “Is that supposed to be a threat?” she said thickly.
“It is if you want it to be. You need to feel, Abigail. And I can give you pain or pleasure. It’s up to you what you want.”
Pain … The word found an echo in a place she tried not to go to. A place she tried to cover up and not ever look at. A terrifying place she’d been trying to protect herself from for the longest time. No, she didn’t want to feel anything, especially not pain, because hadn’t she had enough of that to last a lifetime?
Her chest tightened and he must have seen fear in her eyes because he cursed under his breath and began to coil the belt back around his hand.
He thought she couldn’t take it. He thought she couldn’t handle it.
“Pain,” she burst out, her voice hoarse.
“Abby—”
“What? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”
Heat and darkness ignited in his eyes. “I can. Can you?”
“You think I’m too small, don’t you? Too weak?”
“It’ll hurt.”
She met his gaze. “You’ve got no idea how much pain I can handle.”
He stilled, staring down at her, the expression on his face unreadable. “When you’ve had enough, say ‘enough’ and I’ll stop.” Before she could speak, he leaned over her and turned her so her face was pressed to the couch, her knees on the floor. Abby gritted her teeth. She knew what was coming, but she’d asked for it. She could do this, she could. She’d been through far worse.
Yet still the sting of leather against the tender skin of her butt caught her by surprise. She let out a choked cry. He didn’t relent and another stroke fell.