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Billionaire Unmasked(13)

By:J.S. Scott


“I’m not ready, Jason,” she told him nervously. Disappointment hit her in pummeling waves, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. The emotional agony consumed her.

He pulled her quivering, nude body into his lap. “Too soon after your ex-boyfriend?” He sounded concerned and irritated at the same time.

He wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head on his shoulder. “Yes.” The excuse was as good as any, even if it wasn’t true. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she closed them, her heart full of pain.

She’d hoped.

She’d wanted.

She’d tried because it was Jason, and she wanted him so damn badly.

So far…she had come so far, so close…

“Hey.” He pulled back and took her head between his hands to force her to look at him. “It’s okay.” Gently, he swiped at her tears. “I can wait.”

Don’t wait. I’ll never be whole again. I thought I would, but obviously I can’t. I can never give you what you want. If I can’t experience this with you, I can’t do it with anyone.

“It will be a long wait,” she tried to dissuade him.

He picked her up and stood, cradled her naked body in his arms. Hope wrapped her arms around his neck and savored the feel of his heated skin against hers as he carried her up the stairs and to her bedroom. He turned the covers back, dropped her gently on the bed and crawled in beside her. “Just sleep with me then.” He pulled the sheet and blanket over them and enveloped them in a cocoon where only the two of them existed. His arms tightened around her and pulled her half on top of him.

“Yes.” All the tension drained out of Hope’s body as she inhaled his distinctive scent. She was safe with Jason. “Just for tonight.” She wanted this intimate connection with Jason. He felt so good. Smelled so good. The comforting stroke of his hands in her hair, up and down the bare skin of her back, lulled her into a sense of well-being she’d never known.

“For now,” he corrected huskily, gently.

Hope sighed and threaded her fingers through his hair. They fell asleep just like that, molded together, wrapped up in the comfort of each other’s touch.



She’d just left. No note, no goodbye. She was just gone like she’d never been there.

Jason sat down in a comfortable leather seat on his private jet and pulled out his laptop, pissed off and angry because he’d woken up this morning and Hope had already left. He hadn’t heard a word from any of her brothers, who would have been irate if they’d seen his rental car at her house. Obviously, she hadn’t allowed them to see it, had probably walked to the end of her driveway when they had picked her up this morning just to avoid it.

Evan’s jet had already departed a few hours before Jason had woken up at noon, and he’d known the minute he saw the time and the empty space beside him that Hope was gone. Evan had mentioned that he was leaving by ten, and Jason had known that Hope would be on that plane.

Fuck! She could have at least said goodbye.

Jason held the key he’d found on the kitchen table between his thumb and index finger, staring at it intently before dropping it into the pocket of his buttoned-down shirt. Whether or not she’d intentionally left the key to her house there for him or not he didn’t know. But he’d used it to lock up before he left, and he was keeping it.

He’d give her time, but he and Hope weren’t finished. He wouldn’t allow it. She could run…for now.

I’m not ready.

Her words echoed in his brain, over and over. It hadn’t mattered that he hadn’t actually fucked her. Just the feel of her lips on his bare skin, her beautiful mouth on his cock had been enough to completely turn him upside down. Just being with Hope had temporarily soothed his loneliness, cured the restlessness that had plagued him for a very long time. Last night had been a revelation for him. Thinking back on all the meaningless relationships he’d had over the last eight years, since the moment he’d seen her again at her high school graduation, he now knew one thing for certain:

I’ve always been biding my time, waiting for Hope.

His anger fled, replaced by concern as he thought about the night before, the broken look on her face when she’d told him she wasn’t ready. He could have sworn he saw a flash of worry, a moment of fear in her eyes. Had he imagined things, or had she really been afraid? Most likely, he was imagining it. Hope had had boyfriends before, the most recent one for several years, a deadbeat who had no job, and was obviously a selfish bastard judging by Hope’s lack of sensual experience.