Dirty Billionaire(12)

“We’ll take a new bottle of Bushmills.” I glance down at the woman I’m going to spend the rest of the night on top of, behind, inside, and beneath.

The bartender moves quickly, and within a few moments I have my fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle and one hand pressed to the small of her back.

I lean down so my lips are only a fraction of an inch away from her ear. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”





I’m cool. I’ve got this.

I can make it look like I know what the hell I’m doing.

One-night stand? No problem.

Sexy billionaire in a three-piece suit that’s definitely worth more than my car? No big deal.

This is my pep talk as I walk in the direction of the elevator, the heat of his hand burning through my thin top like a brand.

I still can’t believe the words that came out of my mouth. My gran would be rolling in her grave if she knew I picked up a man in a bar. Another wave of grief batters me, and I stumble.

He slows his stride and steadies me. “Second thoughts?”

His question isn’t mocking; it’s sincere. And in that moment, I have some sixth sense that says he’s the right man to make me forget all the things that have been plaguing me.

I meet his eyes. “No. No second thoughts.”

“Good.”

The single word sends shivers of excitement flickering through me. This man calls to me on a very basic level. It makes no sense. I mean, since when did suit-wearing billionaires turn me on? Usually, outside of the odd drunk fan, it’s the dorky guys who hit on me, and there are no sparks.

How can I be turned on knowing how absolutely and completely out of my league he is?

My stomach flops like a whole mess of spring peeper frogs have been unleashed. I wasn’t even this nervous when I stepped onstage for the first time on Country Dreams. Maybe this is what a minor league rookie feels like the first time he sets foot on the field of the big leagues.

I glance down at where he has a grip on my hand, and can’t help but notice the bulge in the front of his suit pants.

Oh Lordy. What am I getting myself into? He’s probably had his fair share of supermodels, and heck, any woman he’s ever wanted. And now he’s got me. Old insecurities sneak out of the shadows. I’m not good enough for this man, and I know it.

We step into the elevator, and my heart is hammering against my chest so loudly that I wonder if he can hear it. I forget that I’m still staring at his package when his hand once again lifts my chin.

“See something you like?”

My cheeks heat with a furious blush, and I raise my gaze to his amused one.

Oh my God. He caught me ogling his package. Fail, Holly! Fail.

“Uh . . .”

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind.”

With his words, his thumb strokes along my cheekbone. It’s such a familiar touch, and brings back the urge to just lean into him and let him take over.

Who am I kidding? Like I was ever in control of this encounter.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

I grit my teeth at the throwaway endearment. I hate being called “hon” or “sweetheart”—my gran’s favorite endearments—by someone I don’t know. It seems so fake, and once again reminds me of what I’ve lost.

“No names,” I say quickly.

His dark eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline. “Really? You don’t want to know mine?”

It’s not really fair of me, because I already know his, but I answer anyway. “None. I don’t need to know your name.”

He studies me for a few beats before replying with only a brief nod.

As soon as the doors open on my floor, he grabs me by the hand and pulls me out of the elevator, and I think I’ve reached the point of the evening where shit is getting real.

Equal amounts of apprehension and anticipation rush through me when he growls, “Which room?”

Oh God. What am I doing? Oh, wait, that’s right. I’m about to have a one-night stand with a billionaire. Get in the game, Holly. You can do this.

“Um, 1919.”

“Key?”

I slip my hand into the back pocket of my jean skirt and pull it out. Lifting it from my fingers, he pulls me down the hall in the direction of the room.

At least I don’t need to worry about having to take the lead, because I have a feeling Creighton Karas is going to be just as demanding and dominant in the bedroom as he’s rumored to be in the boardroom.

Gulp.





I need to take this slow. I need to take my time with her. She’s the type of woman to be savored and appreciated, but I want to taste her innocence on my lips too badly to even try.

I have her ass filling my hands and her back up against the wall before the door clicks shut behind us and the bottle of whiskey thuds to the floor. I take her mouth, sliding my tongue between her bright red lips. Fuck. So damn sweet, just like I knew she would be.