Billionaire Boys Club 5 : Romancing the Billionaire(53)

But most of all, he had to act as if this were no big deal. As if they were just friends. Friends with benefits.

His lip curled at the thought.

He'd give his "friend" so many benefits her head would spin. He'd give her so many goddamn benefits that her legs wouldn't be able to hold her upright.

And then he'd see if she just wanted to be friends with him.

So Jonathan got to his feet and licked the taste of the woman he loved off of his lips. "I'll get a towel for you."

Under the pretense of retrieving a towel, he left to go jerk his c**k in the airplane's tiny bathroom so she wouldn't see his need and feel obligated to reciprocate.

He hated that f**king word, obligated.

-

Violet stared at Jonathan's bronzed shoulders as he stalked toward the airplane bathroom at the back of the jet. She was dazed, and breathless, and just all over . . . wow.

Okay, so he'd learned a few things since they'd last had sex together. The sex had always been great with Jonathan. But that right there? That right there had just blown her ever-loving mind. She'd never come so hard. Hell, she was wondering if she could ever walk again. She felt deliciously, thoroughly used.

And she felt really, really good.

And yet . . . as she watched him disappear into the bathroom, the old doubts resurfaced. Oral sex on an old flame and demanding nothing in return? That wasn't how friends acted. This? This was a one-way trip back to heartbreak. Some of the things Jonathan had said to her in the heat of passion weren't the words of a man just having a casual diddle with his "good buddy." And now that her mind was clearing, she remembered each groan he struggled to hide, the way his lips clung to hers as if he wanted to memorize every caress.

Even though Jonathan was giving lip service to being her friend, he was still the same intense, possessive Jonathan Lyons who had broken her heart the last time.




 

 

Violet sat up and straightened her hair, tried to get her racing heart back under control.

No matter how good he was at sex now, fooling around with him could only lead to more hurt. She needed to tell him that they couldn't do this again. Not if they wanted to maintain their fragile, newly rebuilt friendship.

But as she pulled her shirt over her br**sts, she felt suddenly so very tired of the walls she kept erected to keep herself safe. Couldn't she just relax for one day and not worry about emotions? Couldn't she just enjoy?

Violet pulled her pants on and lay back in the seat, thinking.

She'd tell him in the morning, when both of them had clear minds and a few hours of distance. Tonight, she'd allow herself to wallow in pleasure for a bit.

TEN

When the plane landed at Santorini's airport, Violet was roused from her nap by Jonathan's gentle caress. "Come on, sleepy," he murmured as he woke her. "Let's get you to the hotel."

She might have protested or said something about working on the envelope hunt, but her brain was mush after the intense orgasm she'd had earlier. She'd fallen asleep before he'd even emerged from the bathroom. Now, it was late at night and Santorini was lit up and beautiful, but her eyelids were so heavy they wouldn't stay up.

She vaguely remembered a taxi ride to the hotel and checking in to the hotel while leaning against Jonathan's arm, and then sleep. Blissful, delicious sleep.

When Violet awoke the next morning, she was in a room by herself. That was . . . a little disappointing. No, it isn't, she chided herself. He's giving you space like you're always demanding. Still, she glanced around the room, frowning. Where was Jonathan if not with her?

Her gaze fell to a note on the bedside table, scrawled in his familiar bold handwriting.

I'm in room 211 if you need me. Call me when you get up and we'll have breakfast & plan our next move.-J

She studied the note, looking for hidden meanings, some signal about what they'd done on the plane. Any regret? Any declarations of love? Did "plan our next move" refer to something relationship-wise or was she reading too much into it? Violet didn't know. It seemed . . . awfully casual.

She showered and dressed, opting for jeans and a blousy, off-the-shoulder top with a tank underneath. The time for her schoolteacher armor was past, she supposed. Tucking her hair behind her ears in a nervous habit, Violet dialed Jonathan's room.

"This is Jonathan," he answered.

"Hey, it's me."

A pause. "Good. You up for breakfast?"

For some reason, his nonchalant tone bothered her. This was Jonathan, Mr. Born-and-Bred-Intensity. Wasn't he supposed to be reciting poetry to her beauty and vowing that he loved her above all others? That was his normal MO. To have him so casual after the mind-blowing incident on the plane rattled her. She cleared her throat, settling her thoughts. "Breakfast is fine."