The Billionaire's Redemption (The Billionaire's Kiss, Book Five): (A Billionaire Alpha Romance) (11 page)

Everything we have done in the last ten hours is fair game. Grant’s phone call to JP… JP’s cell calls out… and, if I haven’t sufficiently covered my tracks, anything I’ve hacked on the internet.

Even though we are in France, nothing is beyond their reach. Borders mean nothing to the internet, and the internet is the NSA’s bitch.

They tipped Interpol to our arrival in France last night, when we had taken every precaution not to leave behind tracks.

If they were tracking us then, they are very likely tracking us now.

As in, this very minute.

“
Putain d’merde,”
I whisper.

At times like these – when you find out the serial killer chasing you might somehow be mixed up with the biggest intelligence agency on Earth – it’s important not to panic.

Grant certainly wasn’t.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he says calmly.

“It changes
everything!”
JP yells. “Your serial killer? He has both Interpol
and
the fucking NSA on his side! I think that changes things
certainement!”

“You’re acting like the cops are going to crash in the door any second.”

“For all I know, they will!”

“Won’t your police friend warn us beforehand if they do?”

JP hesitates. “…yes, but – ”

“Where are they, then? We’ve been here almost ten hours. Where are they?”

JP and Dominique glance at each other uncertainly.

“Let me assure you of one thing,” Grant continues. “If the NSA or Interpol had any fucking clue as to where we are, the cops would be here right now. They’re not. But now we know they’re onto us, which means we’re ahead of the game.”

“How are we ‘ahead of the game’?!” JP asks in exasperated disbelief.

“They think we don’t know they’re involved… but we do,” Grant says. He turns to me. “Is there a way to find out exactly how
much
the NSA knows?”

I stare at him. “You’re asking me to hack the NSA?”

“NO!” JP and Dominique both yell at the same time.

“Hold on, hold on,” Grant reproaches them, then turns back to me. “Bad idea, or…?”

“Yes. Let’s not do that,” I say.

“Alright, okay,” Grant says nonchalantly. “So we don’t hack the NSA.”

Like that’s just a possibility he’s spitballing, and not the single worst idea of all time.

“But let’s not go off half-cocked, either,” he finishes. “We have both time and the luxury of being invisible. Let’s not be stupid and waste either of them. Look, call your cop friend back and offer him more money to make sure he warns us, okay? I’ll cover it. Until then, just chill the fuck out, people.”

JP and Dominique grudgingly shuffle away from the computer – JP to call his friend, and Dominique back to her wine.

“Did I sell that?” Grant whispers to me.

“About as well as you could,” I whisper back.

He winks at me. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

He seems absolutely calm and self-possessed, and it’s rubbed off on JP and Dominique. Panic has been averted. For now.

Well, at least for
them.

As for me, I know what the NSA can do.

And if Epicurus is somehow hooked in with them?

I’m fucking terrified.

We all go to bed a little after midnight. JP lends us the spare bedroom, while Dominique sacks out on the couch.

At first she complains bitterly about it. Though she never states why, I figure it’s probably because of what she saw Grant and I doing on it earlier. JP lasciviously offers her a spot in his bed, but she turns that down – loudly. I think there might be another comment about swizzle sticks. In the end, JP throws a blanket at her, which she grumpily drapes over the sofa before biting the bullet.

Grant and I lie there in the semi-darkness, his arm around me, me snuggled up against his chest. All my clothes but my panties are folded on the chair in the corner. Despite my being half-naked, though, all he does is hold me against his own naked body.

“Level with me,” he says. “Just how fucked are we on the whole NSA thing?”

I look up at him in surprise. “You mean, that whole display of confidence earlier was bullshit?”

He shrugged. “Well… not exactly.”

“Explain.”

“I meant every single thing I said. If the NSA
or
Interpol knew where we were, they’d be breaking down the doors right now.”

“So why’d you ask how fucked we are?”

“Because it’s just a matter of time until they find us. I want to know, realistically, how long that window is.”

“I don’t know. A day or two? Maybe?”

“So it might be a good idea to pull up stakes tomorrow and figure out a new plan.”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

“Okay,” he says decisively. “First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll figure out where to go next.”

We lie there for another moment, not saying anything.

He looks down at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just… scared.”

He hugs me closer to him. “It’s going to be okay.”

Is it?
I want to ask.
Is it really?

“We’re going to get through this,” he promises. “We’ll make it together.”

Together.

My eyes mist up.

Less than 24 hours ago, I was standing on a beach thinking that I had made a horrible mistake, that I had to protect my heart.

We’ll make it together.

Overcome with emotion, I prop myself up on his chest and kiss him tenderly.

When I draw back, he looks deeply into my eyes. The midnight lights of Paris are shining around the edges of the bedroom curtains, and his face is illuminated just enough that I can see the sweetness there, the calm strength and resolution in his gaze.

He uses one finger to trace the contour of my face, to brush a strand of hair back behind my ear. Then he leans forward and kisses me again.

We feel like two people thrown together in the middle of a storm who reach out for comfort, and find their soul mate instead. The moment is romantic rather than lustful… sweet rather than hot.

But lust and heat arrive quickly.

As he continues to kiss me, he caresses my arm. I give a little shiver of pleasure, and his fingers move to my back and gently brush my skin.

It feels so pleasurable that I moan the tiniest bit. A whimper.

He shifts to his side so that we can face each other. We continue to kiss softly, almost in a hypnotic state. His hands slowly move across my body, barely touching me, almost tickling me. My shoulders… the curve of my lower back… my thighs… my arms… my face.

I touch him, too. I feel the outline of his hard muscles, the swell of his biceps, the ridges of his abs.

On the other side of the satiny material of my underwear, I can feel a pressure. He is growing. Thickening. Lengthening.

His fingers move to the side of my breast, next to my ribs, and slowly trail their way down the sloping curve. His fingertips find my nipple hard and erect, and slowly circle it.

I moan again, louder this time.

The tip of his cock brushes against my belly like a tickle. More tickles follow higher up as his shaft grows inch by inch.

Our kissing is becoming more insistent. I am fully turned on now, and I can feel that he is too. Literally, I can
feel
it: his cock pressing against my belly, hot and hard and rigid.

I am so incredibly wet.

I move one hand from his face down to his cock and begin to lightly stroke his erection. I can feel every vein, every throbbing pulse.

His hands are touching me harder. Grabbing my ass, forcing me against him.

I get up on my knees and peel off my soaked underwear. He helps me free my legs, and then I position myself atop him and place my pussy directly on top of his cock. I slide further up his body to position myself so I can take him inside me. He cups my breasts in his hands and gently sucks at my nipples – first the left, then the right.

I am breathing harder as I find the tip of his cock and slowly guide it to my lips – then ease myself down on it.

Ohhhhh God.

I gasp a little as I take him inside me. That first inch – or more like two inches – feels so good as his swollen head slips all the way in.

Gradually I move down on his cock, taking him inch by inch inside me.

So hot… so thick… so big and throbbing… filling me up… going deeper and deeper…

All the while, he brushes his hands softly across my back as he licks and sucks my nipples. When I finally have all of him inside me, he lies there motionless as I roll my hips back and forth, the motion like waves on a shore, letting his cock come halfway out of me and then slowly swallowing him whole again.

We kiss again, softly, tenderly. I move my hips, grinding against his body, pressing his rigid shaft against every lovely spot deep inside me.

We’re still kissing as the pressure builds inside me and the pleasure tips me over the summit. A long, rolling orgasm swells like warm water from my toes to the crown of my head. I throw my head back and bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out, but I can’t stop moving,
won’t
stop rocking my hips with his cock inside me.

When the contractions finally fade away, he gently rolls me over onto my back and sinks down deep inside me, the full weight of his body erotically pressed into mine. We kiss again, and this time
he
is the one making all the effort, the one circling his hips and moving his cock in a swirling motion inside me. I grab his ass and just revel in the feel of it beneath my fingers as he slowly rocks back and forth and all around.

Within moments I am coming again. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder as I stifle my screams. The whole time he slowly moves that big, thick cock inside me, lusciously massaging every inch deep inside me.

After I am left whimpering and trembling, he pulls out and gently forces me onto my side. He lies behind me, his chest to my back. At first I’m afraid he’s going to try something I definitely
don’t
want to do – but instead, his fingers find my lips and guide the head of his cock between them. He pushes gently into me, and I moan as he fills me up again.

He reaches his arms around my body and roughly plays with my breasts, squeezing them, manhandling them. At the same time he kisses my neck, my cheek, my ear, nuzzling me, nibbling me. And of course he rocks his hips, his cock caressing deep inside my pussy. What’s new in this position is that his head is firmly rubbing against my g-spot before it slides deeper inside; the sensation is exhilaratingly, deliriously pleasurable, and my orgasm begins building again. The contrast of extremes – the caveman way he paws at my chest, the sweet way he nibbles my ear, the erotic way he slides across my most sensitive spots and then glides deep inside me – is almost too much to bear.

“Eve,” he whispers in my ear.

I’m moaning now. I don’t care who can hear me. I can’t stop myself even if I wanted to.

“Eve,” he whispers. “Oh God… I love you…”

The shock is almost enough to stop my orgasm in its tracks. Almost, but not quite. His words delay the wave for a moment – just enough time for me to twist my head around to look at him, my joy mixed with fear. Maybe he just said it in the heat of the moment, and that was all it was.

He looks at me, and I can see the dim light from the window reflected in his eyes.

He smiles at me. He means it – because he says it again as he stares directly into my eyes.

“I love you.”

“I – I love you too – oh God – oh GOD – ”

I am overcome, both with pleasure and emotion all at once. The bliss is too great; my body can’t keep it at bay. Suddenly I’m coming – but everything I’ve experienced before this is nothing compared to the sensations now. My soul is exploding with joy at the same time my body is drowning in ecstasy.

The entire time, I look into his eyes as I come – and I see his face contort in a mask of pleasure/pain, his mouth opening in exquisite agony, and then
he
is coming too – but his eyes never leave mine. His orgasm and mine seem to blend, a kind of spiritual oneness, and our connection is our gaze. We both cry out at the same time, and my body is wracked with trembling and contractions as I feel him pulse deep inside me, again and again.

“I love you – I love you – ” he cries out in a whisper, as though pain and pleasure both are drawing the words out of him.

“I love – oh God – I love YOU – ”

And suddenly I am crying. It’s too much. The joy is too much, and all I can do is weep quietly.

He withdraws and pulls me to him and we kiss for the longest time, the salt of my tears mixing with the sweetness of his lips. Then the crying is over, and I can’t stop smiling. My face hurts, I’m smiling so much as I kiss him. Every few moments we take a break to stare into each other’s eyes, or whisper “I love you” in each other’s ears, but mostly we kiss, until exhaustion overtakes me and I settle into his chest and drift into sleep, murmuring, “I love you… I love you…”

I open my eyes the next morning. For a second, I can’t help wondering if last night was real.

It
seems
real enough. My body retains the pleasant ache of having him inside me, the slight soreness of our passion. And my heart feels twice as big, as though it is stretched to overflowing with happiness.

I turn around in the bed. Grant is just a few feet away and still slumbering.

I lie there for a moment, smiling and watching him sleep. I replay the scene from last night in my head, and luxuriate in the joy it brings me.

But, if I’m going to be honest… I am harboring a wisp of fear, too.

Did he mean it?

Or was he just saying it because we were in the heat of the moment?

After all, it’s only been…

I count in my head.
Monday he hired me, Tuesday was the art gallery and skyscraper, Wednesday was Connor and Lily, yesterday we got to Paris, this is Friday morning –

Jesus, has it only been four days since he walked into my office in LA?!