The Billionaire Biker Page 9

  He was doing well, but the effort was purely for her benefit. It wasn’t for himself and somehow she found that … terribly sad.

  “I think,” she said softly, “it’s not quite that time yet.” She dropped the half-knotted tie, began to open his shirt.

  “Abby … ”

  She ignored him, pushing the shirt from his shoulders. Broad, powerful, strong. Her hands slid over his chest, up over his shoulders, and down his biceps, stroking, tracing the lines of the tattoos on his skin. “Did you know that I fell in love with you when I was fourteen?”

  He froze. “What?”

  “Yeah, I thought you were the most wonderful guy in the world.” She touched his collarbone, tracing the dips and hollows with her fingertips. “You were sexy, and interesting, and clever. And so intelligent. Gentle and caring. I’d never met a guy like you before. In fact, I pretty much thought all guys were douches until I met you.”

  Sean let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, Abby. I thought we weren’t going to talk about this.”

  “I thought so, too, but … ” She didn’t know why she wanted to say it now. But she wanted to give him something, the way he’d given her something three nights ago. “I wanted you to know. That’s why I was so angry. You weren’t only my friend, I’d been in love with you for years even before that.”

  He didn’t say anything, so she took the time to let her fingers wander farther down over his chest, over the hard cut muscle of his abs. “I never thought of you that way,” he said roughly. “Not until that night when you turned up in your green dress. And … you killed me. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful. It felt like … shit, I don’t know, like I’d seen an angel. You were so perfect. Untouchable. But I did touch you and … ” He stopped as her hands came lower to his belt, brushing over the buckle. Beneath the gray wool she could feel him hard and ready for her. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it feel like I’m doing?” She traced him beneath the material, the outline of his cock, long and thick. Finding the end of his zipper, she began to draw it down. “You showed me something good. You gave me some good memories in place of the bad, not just pain but pleasure, too. Now it’s my turn to give you something.”

  “You don’t … You don’t have to give me anything.”

  “I know. But I want to.”

  “What?”

  “This.” She opened his trousers, slid her hand inside, into his boxers, closing around his shaft. He was hot and smooth, his skin soft. She stroked him, slowly, gently. “I know you like it rough and fast. And I do, too. But sometimes I want to take it slow.”

  His eyes had gone dark, staring fiercely at her. “Abby … sweetheart … ”

  “Let me do this, Sean,” she whispered. “Please let me give this to you.”

  * * *

  He really didn’t want her to because, shit, he knew he still had a lot to atone for. And anything given should come from him, not her. But he didn’t want to stop her. No one had ever touched him like this. With gentleness. With care. Not his mother, who’d always blamed him for the way Patrick Morrow had ditched her. Not his father, who wasn’t the “touchy” type. And certainly not his stepmother, with her constant litany of barbed comments and veiled threats. Not even the women he’d taken to bed. But then he’d never let anyone close enough to touch him like Abby touched him.

  It hurt in ways he didn’t understand. And yet a part of him wanted it so badly he couldn’t seem to breathe.

  “Don’t move,” she murmured, removing her hand to undo his belt and open his pants completely. She bent down, taking his cock out and holding it firmly in her hand. Then the heat of her mouth engulfed him.

  He closed his eyes, adrenaline spiking through him. “Oh … fuck … Abby.” He wanted to push her down onto the bed, spread her wide and thrust hard and rough inside her. Because it was better that way, easier to control. But …

  “Keep still.” Her breath against the head of his dick made him clench his jaw hard. “Otherwise you don’t get to come.”

  Jesus, she was using his own tactics back on him. He tensed. It would be so easy to pull her away and do what his brain was telling him to. And yet he didn’t want to. A deeper part wanted to see what she was going to do. Wanted to take what she had to give because he was desperate for it. Desperate for … something he couldn’t even put a name to.

  I’d been in love with you for years….

  Maybe that was it. Maybe that’s what he wanted. That memory of what it was like to be loved.

  She ran her tongue around the head of his cock, licking him, tasting him, and his arms started to shake. Then she took him into her mouth again, going deep, moving slowly. A gentle suction that was maddening because it wasn’t enough and yet he never wanted it to stop.

  “Abby,” he said hoarsely. “Sweetheart … ”

  He was panting by the time she released him, her cheeks pink, her eyes going dark the way they did when she was aroused. He shifted, wanting to hold her, but she put her hands on his shoulders, holding him down. “Uh-uh. Remember what I said? Now lie back against the pillows like a good boy.”

  “No,” he growled, losing patience. “Why don’t you lie down and spread your legs like a good girl.”

  She raised a brow. “Do you want to come or do you want to go to your meeting with a hard-on?”

  He gritted his teeth. And did as he was told, shifting around and lying back against the pillows.

  She moved, reaching over to the drawer of the nightstand where the condoms were, taking one out, and ripping the package open. Over the past two days, she’d gotten very adept at putting a condom on him, mostly because she kept insisting on being the one to do it, and hell, he was okay with that. But now? He shivered as she rolled the latex down over him, unable to help himself, because she made such a production of it, stroking him, touching him.

  “Jesus Christ, Abigail,” he said, panting.

  “Patience.” She straddled him, the sun coming through the windows, shining over her naked body. She was pale and pink, and beautiful as she positioned herself. Then she slid down onto him, her body so hot and wet and tight he groaned. She didn’t move, just sat in his lap with him deep inside her, her palms flat against his chest. “Sean,” she whispered. “Look at me.”

  He didn’t want to. He so didn’t want to and yet he did all the same. The look in her eyes made everything inside him hurt. As if she’d stripped him completely. Down beyond skin, to bare nerves. Where he was open and raw and vulnerable. Where the anger and frustration he couldn’t seem to leave behind him still simmered away, tainting him. She lifted her hands, cupped his face, then leaned forward and kissed him, sweet and light. And only then did she begin to move, her hips lifting, rocking gently, kissing him, his mouth, his jaw, his neck, his throat. Her hands moved, stroking everywhere.

  And it hurt. It hurt so badly. He was an angry fucked-up mess who didn’t deserve this gentleness. But it was also so good he didn’t want it to stop.

  “Let go,” she whispered softly against his skin. “Let go, Sean. Let me give you this.”

  He was too far gone to protest. Too far gone to pull away or hold himself back. She was giving him a taste of what his soul had been hungry for and he wanted it with every breath in him.

  Sean let go as the pleasure uncoiled inside him, not fast and desperate but slow and deep, moving through his body, through his heart. Into her. He’d never equated sex with freedom before but this was a kind of freedom. To let himself go with another person. Like being on his bike, riding free. No expectations and no limits. Free to be himself and be accepted.

  This was far more satisfying than punishing people ever had been.

  Her arms wound around his neck as her movements got faster, and this time he had to move, pulling her close, holding her warmth against him as the climax rolled over him, a vast, powerful wave that had him shaking. He turned his face into her neck as it hit, inhaling the musk and sweet scent that was all Abby.

  And he knew
he was gone. That a week wasn’t going to be enough. That what he wanted was more.

  What he wanted was to stay.

  * * *

  “Where have you been?” Jax frowned at Sean from his place at the head of the boardroom table. “You’re late.”

  Sean closed the door behind him. The only people in the room were Jax and Donovan, who was standing near the window. “Not too late if the meeting hasn’t started yet.”

  Donovan raised a brow. “A bit of morning glory, huh?”

  Sean met his brother’s gaze head-on. “Not sure that’s any of your business.”

  Donovan shrugged. “It’s not. Hell of a way to start a meeting, though.”

  “Sean,” Jax said, “shut up, sit down, and let me give you some background.”

  “I’ll stand, thanks.” He started to put his hands in his pockets, then stopped. Folded his arms instead. Over the past couple of days Jax had given him the grand tour of the company, explaining the structure, going over the various businesses and concerns Morrow was involved with. It was a huge company and he had to admit, some parts of it looked fairly interesting. But he still couldn’t see himself staying permanently.

  Until this morning. Until Abby had given him a taste of what it felt like to belong to someone.

  “Sit, stand, whatever,” Jax said. “Right, this particular meeting concerns the docklands area we’re developing in conjunction with Victoria de Winter’s company. It’s the site of the old Morrow HQ, an important area, and the development needs to be handled sensitively.”

  Sean gave a short laugh. “Then you don’t fucking need me, do you?”

  “I want you to see how we work,” Jax said, ignoring him. “Like I told you, I think you could be a great asset to our negotiation team.”

  What a fucking crock. He was only an asset when it came to following up shit with his fists. But he couldn’t refuse. He’d promised Abby he’d make her proud and he would.

  Perhaps there might even be hope for you beyond that.

  Sean pushed the thought out of his head. No, he didn’t need to think of that right now. Didn’t want to let himself hope for something he might never be able to have.

  “What do you want me to do then?” he asked. “I don’t even know who we’re meeting.”

  “I didn’t want you to. We need fresh eyes on this. All I want you to do is watch, listen, then give me your thoughts afterward.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah. That’s it.”

  The door to the boardroom opened and Jax’s personal assistant put her head around it. “They’re here. Are you ready?”

  “Yes. Send them in, Grace.”

  Sean came around the table, not sure where to put himself. Donovan sat down beside Jax but Sean didn’t want to sit. It didn’t feel right. He wasn’t really part of this and didn’t have anything to offer. He was only here to listen. So he stood off to one side, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded.

  The door opened and a man came in, tailed by another couple of people. Donovan and Jax froze, the tension level in the room suddenly hiking up a million or so degrees.

  Easy to see why. Sean knew who the man was instantly.

  Only one guy had the ability to make a room fall completely silent with the sheer power of his presence. Even in jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket.

  Gabriel Woolf, CEO of Woolf Construction and former Avenging Angels president.

  Holy Christ, what the hell was he doing here?

  “Woolf,” Jax said, his voice cordial. “This is an unexpected surprise. We were expecting your colleague.”

  “Yeah, I thought I’d come in myself,” Gabriel said. “Check on how things were going personally.” His dark eyes flicked once around the room, rested on Sean. “Rich. Back in the family fold, I see?”

  The back of Sean’s neck prickled but he didn’t move. “Church,” he greeted the other man shortly, using the name Woolf had once gone by in the MC. “And yeah, seems that way.”

  Gabriel stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a short, abrupt movement, he pulled out a chair and sat down. The two other people who’d come in with him, a man and a woman in perfectly pressed suits, sat down beside him.

  “Here’s the deal,” Gabriel said without preamble. “We’ve encountered some problems with the site. They’re not massively significant but they’re going to involve more work. And that means we want more money.”

  Jax said nothing but Donovan leaned forward, a polite smile on his face. “I’d have a quiet talk with your surveyors if I were you. They should have picked up the problem before we agreed on the price.”

  “I take it that’s a no then?”

  “A deal is a deal,” Donovan said, still pleasant. “The price we agreed on had a contingency clause that should cover this kind of thing.”

  “The contingency isn’t enough.” Gabriel sat back, nodded to the woman on his right who began to list the problems and the amount needed in order to fix them.

  Sean shifted against the wall, frowning. He knew nothing about construction but the money the Woolf team was requesting sounded like a lot.

  “Not our problem,” Donovan said when the woman had finished. “Like I said, you need to take this to your survey team, not us.”

  Gabriel’s dark brows twitched. He didn’t say anything but the aura of threat around him was palpable. He was a dangerous man. Shit, Sean had seen him at work back in his president days. He didn’t take crap from anyone, and what he said, went. “Are you questioning the quality of my team’s work?” he asked. The question was mild enough but everyone in the room heard the layer of threat underneath it.

  Donovan’s jaw had gone hard, his smile turning sharp. “Perhaps someone should.”

  Gabriel tilted his head, rocked back in his chair. He smiled back but it didn’t have anything to do with amusement. Sean had seen smiles like that before—right before someone got the barrel of a gun in their face. “If you don’t want my people,” Gabriel said, deceptively mild, “then I’ll pull them out. Just say the word.”

  Fuck. That would be a disaster. Work was supposed to start on the site right after the groundbreaking ceremony and the cost to Morrow if they had to find another company would be … extortionate.

  The tension ratcheted higher.

  “That sounds like a threat,” Jax said, his voice as mild as Gabriel’s. “A pity. Morrow doesn’t respond well to threats.”

  Gabriel lifted a shoulder. “Shit, if you want to take it as a threat, that’s your problem. I’m a businessman. I’ve got a bottom line to protect same as any other.” His gaze rested first on Jax, then Donovan. “Your play, gentlemen.”

  A good, old-fashioned pissing contest, that’s what it was. Just like any meeting at the club, where guys tried to out-testosterone each other. Sean would always sit back and watch the shit go down, until someone crossed the line, and then he’d be called on to enforce club law. The routine was as familiar to him as the engine on his Harley.

  “We have other options,” Jax said tersely. “Woolf Construction isn’t the only fish.” A bluff—Sean could see it in Jax’s eyes.

  “But that’ll cost you,” Gabriel replied. “And you won’t be getting the best.”

  “I believe we already had a deal, Woolf.” Donovan put the pen he’d been toying with down on the table with a decisive movement. “Are you seriously telling us you’re reneging on it?”

  This was not going to end well. Sean could almost feel it: the tension, the growing aura of leashed violence around Woolf himself.

  “So are we happy playing ‘who’s got the biggest dick’ or do we actually want to get down to business here?” It wasn’t until everyone in the room was staring at him that Sean realized he’d spoken aloud what should have remained in his own head.

  Fuck.

  The tension in the room twisted even higher.

  “Well, what do you know?” Gabriel murmured. “Little brother has something to say.”

  Okay
, so he’d probably screwed things up by speaking but a deal was a deal. You gave your word and you stood by it. You didn’t pull out afterward because it wasn’t as good as you thought.

  “Yeah, actually I have.” Pushing himself away from the wall, Sean came over to the table and put his palms down on it, leaning forward. “I know fuck all about business but I know a game when I see one. You signed the deal, Woolf. Stop pissing us off with power plays.”

  The silence was deathly.

  Fucking hell, might as well continue.

  “We want Woolf on this because you’re right, we do want the best, and because getting a new company to do the work is going to cost us majorly. But you signed that contract. Going back on it doesn’t look good.” His heart rate began to accelerate as he met the older man’s cold, dark eyes. Pissing off Church had always been a club member’s worst move, but the guy used to have respect for a strongly held opinion so he made himself go on. “Yeah, you’re a businessman. But you’re also a man of your word. At least you used to be.”

  Another silence, even colder than the first.

  Sean made himself hold Woolf’s black gaze, his palms sweaty.

  Then abruptly Gabriel laughed. “Jesus, Morrow. Your boy’s got some balls on him.”

  Like a rubber band snapping, the tension broke.

  “You think he was here just for show?” Jax said, his voice full of amusement.

  “Clearly not.” Gabriel folded his arms, all business now. “Perhaps we can come to some agreement on costs?”

  Another pause, but this time it wasn’t tense.

  “Perhaps,” Jax conceded. “What do you think, Sean?”

  He tried not to look surprised at being asked the question. “I think that’s fair.”

  “Donovan?”

  “I’m with Sean.”

  The next fifteen minutes were spent hashing out a new cost structure that both the Morrows and the Woolf team were happy with. When they were done, Woolf nodded to Sean once, then swept out with his minions trotting along behind like good little dogs.

  As the door closed on him, Donovan sat back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck. I thought the bastard had us.”