Escorting The Billionaire #2(24)

 

I fucked her harder.

 

She moaned as I thrust into her again and again. “I’m yours. There’s no one but you,” she cried out. She arched against me, close to her release.

 

“Come for me, and say my name.” I was about to explode. I put my fingers on her clit and stroked it relentlessly.

 

She arched her back and cried out, her body wrapped around me like a vise. “James, oh my God. James. Come in me. Come in me, baby. I need to feel you.”

 

I fucking love you, I thought and came in a torrent.

 

 

 

 

 

Audrey

 

 

 

 

 

James had literally fucked my brains out. Good thing I’d sent that paperwork in while I was still lucid. Now my mother couldn’t take any more funds from New Horizons. At least there was one less thing to worry about.

 

I couldn’t have forced myself to worry about anything right now, anyway. James held my hand as we walked down Newbury Street in the early afternoon heat. We were lazy and loose, and I swear to God, we were in love. That’s what it felt like, anyway. I was in love with him, my billionaire in his jeans and T-shirt, his sexy steel-colored hair mussed up from our recent lovemaking. I was in love with him, and I was positively drunk on it.

 

We went to Stephanie’s on Newbury and he ordered a bottle of Chardonnay. I looked at the menu. “Would you like some crab cakes?” I asked him, and he started to laugh.

 

“What?” I asked, confused.

 

“I hate crab cakes,” he said.

 

“You ate them the other night!”

 

“I only did that for you,” he said. “You were trying to take care of me, and I wanted to be… nice.”

 

“Well, you suck at being nice,” I said. The waitress came, and I ordered a beet salad, a blue cheese burger, and a side of macaroni and cheese.

 

“I’ll have the same,” James said, not even looking at the menu, and handing it back to the waitress. He squeezed my hand. “You always get the good stuff.”

 

“Except for the crab cakes,” I said huffily.

 

“Don’t be mad at me.” The sunlight played on his face and I saw how relaxed and gorgeous he was right then. Well, he was always gorgeous. But relaxed? Not so much.

 

“I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy,” he said.

 

I looked at him again. Tears came quick to my eyes, and I mentally retracted them. I’ve never been this happy, I thought. That warmed me and burned me all at the same time. “Me neither,” I said and smiled at him bravely.

 

“We have to be at the rehearsal relatively soon,” James said, still holding my hand. “And the wedding’s going to be an all-day affair tomorrow. But then I get you all to myself—well, almost—but I can’t wait to go to the Bahamas now. I was dreading it before. Now I can’t wait. I get to hang out with you in a bikini.”

 

“I’ve never been to the Caribbean. I’m really looking forward to it.”

 

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “You’re going to love it.”

 

“It’ll be interesting to spend a whole week with your family.” I was dreading that now more than ever.

 

“We’re getting a villa on the edge of the resort,” James said, “so everyone can leave us the fuck alone.”

 

“Do you promise?” I asked.

 

“I’ll promise you anything, Audrey.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We went to Trinity Church for the rehearsal. James was wearing a light-grey suit with a lavender tie, and I was wearing a pale lavender dress. “You look stunning, and we match. It’s perfect,” James said. He held my hand as we walked through the church doors.

 

“It is perfect,” I agreed. I’d seen his tie and picked out my dress right afterward; we looked as together as I felt like we were. We walked into the main chamber of the church, and the beauty of it took my breath away. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, and the ceiling soared high above us. It was fit for a fairy-tale wedding. I could imagine Evie coming down the aisle in a pouffy princess dress, her pale face behind a veil.

 

Thinking about it made me sad.

 

James leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. I looked up at him, flustered. Being in the church with him like this was making me feel an uneasy longing, followed closely by dread. “What?” he asked, watching my face.

 

“This is just stunning,” I said, turning away from him. “I’ve never been in here.”

 

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Celia Preston asked, coming toward us. She eyed us suspiciously, taking in our clasped hands and coordinating outfits. “You two are looking very… matchy,” she said, and she didn’t sound pleased. Celia was wearing another Chanel suit, this one black-and-white checkered. Her face looked as if it had de-puffed nicely.