Beyoncé BK Knowles.
ONIKA looking at me like she wants to eat me up with a spoon and fuck me, I'm returning the feeling a millionfold. But Micaiah is out front and who knows how long he's going to take with his call.
I can't risk it.
I want to risk it so bad my hands literally itch to touch her.
Being near her flat out arouses me, there's no denying it. Her scent, her smile, the way she looked at me when I explained Hush's background. I saw the glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. She knows what an asshole my father is.
The last thing I want from her is sympathy. I'm not a charity case.
She walks out onto the private deck and I follow her, admiring the curve of her thick ass, the little gasp of pleasure she gives when she catches sight of the rolling hills covered with what looks like endless rows of vineyards.
"So beautiful," she murmurs, and I wholeheartedly agree. She's gorgeous.
"You like the view?" Because I sure as hell do. I take a step closer, noting how I tower over her. Her hair is mostly dry, the ends wavy, and I want to grab hold of her ponytail. Yank her head back and kiss her until the both of us are stupid with lust.
"It's stunning." She glances over her shoulder at me, the smile on her face slowly fading. "You're looking at me weird."
The sexy whisper of her voice doesn't quite go along with what she's saying. "How am I looking at you?"
"Like... like you want something from me." She turns to face me but backs up a few steps, until she's leaning against the deck railing. Her hazel eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed. A few wisps of hair have escaped her ponytail, brushing against her face. I move toward her, slow and easy, not wanting to startle her. Not wanting to ruin this.
"I want nothing from you that you don't want to give," I murmur, and I note the rapid beat of her pulse at the base of her throat.
"Beyoncé." Her voice is a warning, with the slightest bit of waver. That waver gives me hope. "My brother is right out that front door. What if he finds us?"
"We're not doing anything that we need to hide." I'm directly in front of her, crowding her, and I rest my hands on the railing on either side of her body, effectively trapping her.
"Yet," she whispers, and that one single word gives me so much damn hope, I do what I've been dying to do since I saw her in the hallway of my house.
Dipping my head, I nuzzle her hair with my cheek, breathing in her scent, closing my eyes. My entire body tingles at having her close, hearing the catch of her breath, feeling the slight tremor that moves through her. She doesn't touch me, doesn't so much as move, and I settle my mouth close to her ear. "All I can think about is last night."
"Beyoncé." She sounds like I'm torturing her.
Good. Feeling's mutual.
"Do you think about it? I swear to God, Onika, all I want to do is drag you into that bedroom right now and fuck you until you can't see straight." My control is about to snap. And I never let it snap. But this woman pushes all my buttons, does everything she can to tear me apart with just a look. A smile. It blows my mind how much power she wields over me.
She has no clue about her power either.
"You shouldn't talk to me like that. Last night was a... mistake." She settles her hand on my chest as if she's going to push me away, but her fingers curl ever so slightly into my shirt. Pulling me just a fraction closer to her.
Triumph surges through me. She can't resist this pull between us either. "You really think so?"
"I know so." She pushes at my chest so I have no choice but to look at her. She's not strong enough to get me to step back, though. No way am I moving from her yet. "We can't continue this."
"You want to." It's a statement, not a question.
"No I don't." But she's nodding as I lean into her, and when I brush my mouth with hers, the shuddering exhale she breathes against my lips twists up my insides. "Beyoncé..."
I love hearing her say my name, even if it's in protest. Because really she's not protesting. She wants this just as bad as I do.
"Just one kiss," I murmur against her lips, darting out my tongue to lick. The soft moan that escapes her is my answer, and I settle my mouth fully on hers, our tongues meeting, circling, tasting. I rest my hand on her hip, stepping into her, wanting to feel her.
The breeze sweeps over us, a shiver moves through her, and I slip my arms completely around her waist, tugging her lower body close to mine. Fuck Micaiah. Fuck anything else. I want to pull her into that bedroom, slam the door and keep her in the bed pinned beneath me for the next twenty-four hours.
It wouldn't be enough. But when it comes to Onika, I'll take what I can get.
A buzzing sound rings through my head as I continue to kiss her, lose myself in her. I slide my hands over her ass, groaning when she grinds subtly against me. The buzz gets louder, more insistent, and I break the kiss first, staring down at her, my breath coming in pants. "What is that?"
She blinks up at me, looking as wrecked as I feel. "I think it's your phone."
Shit. She's right. I can feel it vibrating in my jeans pocket. Yanking it out, I see it's a text message from Micaiah.
M:I gotta get back home. Meet me at the car.
"It's your brother." Damn it, I'm not ready to send her back to the city with Micaiah. I want to keep her here with me.
Like she'd ever go for it. She has a life. A relatively new career, friends-she probably has little time to spare, especially for me.
I'm delusional if I think I can make something between us work. Not that I want something real or lasting. A fling. That's all I want. And then there's the bet to consider.
You're really going to let a bet guide your decision?
I ignore the shitty little voice in my head.
"What did he say?" She licks her lips as if she's trying to get one last taste of me, and my dick twitches as I reluctantly step away from her.
"He's ready to leave."
"That's probably best." She pushes away from the railing, glancing to her left, looking at the tub that sits outside near the deck. "You never did explain the reason for the tub being outside."
"It's built for two. The decks are all private; none of the guests can see each other." I smile, imagining the two of us in that tub, our naked skin slick and soapy, Onika sitting in my lap, her short legs wound around my waist. "It's, uh, one of our most popular features."
"I'm sure." The sarcasm is thick and I take another step away from her, surprised. "Beyoncé, what happened between us last night . . ."
"Was a mistake. I totally agree." I finish for her, needing to be the first one who said it.
Weird thing, though, is the look on her face when I did. Like I slapped her when she least expected it.
"A mistake," she says slowly as she nods. "That's what you think?"
"Absolutely. I mean, come on. We could never work. I don't do relationships. You know this." I sound far more confident than I feel. Maybe it's because I always say this sort of thing to women, or really more to myself. I've never been in a relationship. I know I would fail at one. I would most definitely disappoint her. Ivy.
But secretly? I wish she would give me-give us-a chance.
"And I do."
"You most definitely do," I agree a little too quickly.
"And you're yet another Humpty Dumpty." She sighs.
"What?" Okay, that made no damn sense. Why is she calling me Humpty Dumpty?
"The kind of guy who's all broken up and can't be put back together again." She smiles at me, but it's sad and the sight of it makes me feel like a complete jerk. "I have a type. And I think you top my type list."
"I'm on your type list?" I never believed Onika had any sort of crush on me. Not beyond the push-pull-we-hate-each-other-maybe-we-should-tear-each-other's-clothes-off thing we've been suffering through for years. Though I always figured that was more one-sided on my part.
"I never realized it until now. You're so right. We could never work. I'm too nice. And you're too . . . you." She drops that bomb like it makes all the sense in the world.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I rub my palm against my chest, irritated with myself. I'm acting butt-hurt over a woman. This is crazy.
"Do I really need to explain myself, Beyoncé?" She doesn't let me answer. "Let's go meet Micaiah. I need to get out of here."
Without a word, I follow her out, trying to ignore the disappointment settling over me like a heavy wet blanket.
But I can't. Her rejection, her words hurt far more than I care to admit. And I'm the one who rejected her first.
We're quiet as we head back to the car, Micaiah waiting beside it with his arms crossed in front of him, tapping his foot impatiently. We all get inside, Onika taking the back seat this time, and the mood is dark as I make the quick drive home.
They both hop out of my car as if they can't wait to get away from me the moment I pull up in front of my house and I climb out, chasing after them.
"Sorry to be so abrupt, bro," Micaiah tosses out apologetically as he yanks his keys out of his pocket and hits the remote, unlocking his car. "I have a client wanting to meet for dinner. He owns a piece of property I've been after for months and I think he's finally going to cave."
"I understand. You'll have to call me when you make the deal."
"Prepare for a call late tonight then." Micaiah grins at me and I chuckle.
I get it. I'm a businesswoman. When an opportunity presents itself, you have to go for it, and that's exactly what Micaiah is doing.
Sort of what I did with Onika.
Sprinting ahead of her, I approach Micaiah's Maserati and open the passenger door for her, watching as she slides into the seat. She glances up, her eyes fathomless as she studies me. "Thank you, Beyoncé," she murmurs. Then adds meaningfully, "For everything."
"You're welcome," I automatically say, though I'm not quite sure what we're referring to.
Rolling her eyes, she huffs out a breath and yanks the door closed, effectively shutting me off.
Shutting me out.
And as I watch the car speed away, I feel like I'm watching my heart leave with it, forever in Onika's possession.
Fucking crazy, but true.