Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 1(74)
As soon as it’s out, he regrets it. Why do you always have to be such a goddamned asshole?
He sees the hurt blossom in her eyes. He curses himself. But he has an unapologetic veneer to maintain, and so he spreads his mouth into a cynical grin instead.
“And yours will never be anything but a total bedhead,” she shoots back.
Ouch. He takes great pride in his hair. But he gives a lot, so he’s equally good at taking it.
“So why are you so hung up about what your sister thinks?”
“Huh?”
“The hair. Me. The fact that I’m here on this sordidly deceptive weekend. Or should I say … deceptively sordid weekend?”
“Oh, that.”
She locks eyes with him in the mirror. His breath catches. Her eyes will always be her best feature. He can well imagine those eyes being smoky with desire, gazing adoringly up at him from a horizontal position as she writhes sexily under his heaving body.
His dormant cock begins to stir. He shifts on one leg.
Careful.
He watches as a plethora of complex emotions flit on her face.
She sighs. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s complicated. Anyway, you don’t give a damn what anyone thinks or feels, so why do you care?”
He splays his hands. “Hey, I’m just askin’. No need to bite my head off.”
“Not that you’d ever understand what it feels like to be a dork.”
You’re not a dork, he thinks.
He says, “Some people just have dork genes, I guess. So which side of the family did yours come from?”
Her features turn apoplectic.
“Oh,” she splutters, “just go and do whatever … Cassie will be here any minute.”
“What? To play dress up Barbie?”
‘Get out.”
“Touchy.”
He waltzes out of the door.
“But don’t do anything to embarrass me,” she throws at him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“No picking anyone up either. This is a small town and word gets around.” She glares at him.
“Not when I’m a total stranger.”
“For all you know, the whole town might be invited tonight. And you promised. It’s part of the deal.”
“Yeah, so sue me.”
He slams the door behind him. He hasn’t had his daily, emotionally meaningless sexual fix yet, thanks to Ms. Uptight and Prissy.
Now what is he going to do for sex?
*
Hartford is a small, small town. Apparently, the Buchners own half of it. They also own the hotel, the mill, the lumber factory and the bakery. Talk about diversification.
There’s a cafe called ‘Figero’s’ right next to the bakery. And a strip joint. Brian waltzes into the strip joint. With his luck, the Buchners probably own it too. With video surveillance.
Inside, a few tired strippers are dancing around metallic poles. They look up as he enters. It’s five in the evening. A few older men are guzzling beers and smoking cigarettes. Brian goes to the bar and plonks himself down on a barstool.
“Is this place always this zombified or is this just the graveyard shift?” he quips.
The bartender is cleaning a beer mug.
“What’ll it be?” he says gruffly.
“Stella.”
“She ain’t working tonight.”
“I meant the beer.”
The bartender fills Stella Artois into a chilled mug. Brian lights a cigarette.
A stripper sidles up to him. She wears a bright yellow thong and two equally bright yellow pasties on her nipples. The pasties are in the shapes of stars.
Elegant.
“Hey, stranger,” she purrs, digging her fingers into his hair. “Never seen you around here.”#p#分页标题#e#
“That’s original.”
“I can give you a lap dance if you want.”
Tempting, but she smells of someone else’s cheap cologne. Probably the last guy she wanked off. Anyway, he rarely paid for anything.
“Say, you wouldn’t happen to be invited to an engagement party by the Buchners tonight, would you?”
“Hell, no.”
“In that case … ”
He lets her kiss his mouth in an extremely provocative way. And then his chin. And his neck. Meanwhile, her hands roam all over his body, prodding his muscles and sliding down his abs to his expanding crotch.
There’s something he has to remember before his brain gets too fuzzy.
He says to the bartender, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to be invited to an engagement party tonight by the Buchners, would you?”
“Fuck the Buchners. They’ve been monopolizing this town for too long.”
“Good to hear.”
The stripper rubs her hand against his straining bulge. “I’ll monopolize this.” She turns to the bartender. “Frank … what the fuck is ‘monopolize’?”