Page 36 of Caught Between Two Billionaires
There it is again, that warm persistence that has made him rich when he was poor. It earned him enough money and know-how to partner with Christopher, a man who, for all his many faults, is admittedly a business genius. Not yet, he seems to say without words.
And I’m not entirely sure he’s wrong.
The elevator down the hall dings, and in a startled rush I push down my skirt. I expect to see the disgruntled businessman who’s staying in the room beside me or one of the other occupants I haven’t passed yet.
Instead Christopher Bardot steps off the elevator, his dark eyes narrowing on mine immediately, emotions flashing across his face before he manages to put a cold mask over them all. But I saw them. For that brief second I saw jealousy and anger, and something that breaks my heart—hurt.
In front of me Sutton moves much more slowly, getting up as casually as if he had been sitting at dinner, taking the time to straighten his shirt.
Then, impossibly, he runs a thumb across his bottom lip. And presses it between his lips to savor the taste of it. Of me. It’s the most explicit thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and we’re both fully clothed and covered.
Christopher’s eyes flash. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I’m not the kind of girl that men fight over, am I? I didn’t think so, but there’s leashed violence simmering in the air.
“Do you need it spelled out?” Sutton asks in that drawl I’m coming to realize is a sign of danger. The kind of danger that most people don’t expect from a Southern boy.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, because we’re in front of my hotel room. And what the hell does Christopher think, showing up here at night? Embarrassment threatens to strangle me, but I remind myself firmly that I’m a grown woman. I have every right to do what I want… even though I possibly should have been inside the hotel room.
It’s a question of a few feet, so I hold my chin up.
“I came to talk to you,” Christopher says in a low voice.
There’s a small move, barely discernible, the way that Sutton moves to block me. As if protecting me from Christopher. “You can talk tomorrow. At the office.”
“This is personal,” Christopher says, his eyes locked on mine.
He’s waiting for me to send Sutton away, except I’m not sure that’s what I should do.
If that kiss had been only for revenge, only to crack Christopher’s cool veneer, then it already succeeded. But Sutton made it more than that. He made it about me and him, when I didn’t think it was possible for me to desire another man.
“There’s nothing personal between us. You made sure of that. There’s only money between us.”
For all his rough background, Sutton wouldn’t do anything as uncouth as gloat. He doesn’t say a word or even move a muscle. He’s a monolith, but a sense of victory rises around him—unmistakable. I may as well have written his name on my body with permanent marker; that’s the way these men are taking my declaration.
Is that how I mean it? I don’t belong to Sutton, but God, I was never Christopher’s. Even in my teenage fantasies I should have known better than to hope for that.
“She’s my sister,” Christopher says.
A harsh laugh. “That would be more convincing if I didn’t think you were going to beat off to the image of her leaning against the wall, looking fucked out and hot as all hell.”
“Jesus,” Christopher says, baring his teeth to Sutton in a sign of frustration. “How dare you make this a competition? How dare you use her to get to me?”
The words find their mark inside my heart, sharp and poisoned. I don’t want to be a ball that men throw around for sport. A toy to be put aside when they get bored of me.
Where there had been victory, now there is only menace. How does Sutton manage to exude feelings without moving a muscle? His energy shimmers around him, thick in the air. And now he’s pissed. “How dare you imply that’s the only reason a man would want her?”
All the heat that had been burning through my body leaks into the walls and warms the floors. None of it’s left inside my body. I’m cold. “Is this a game to you?”
I don’t even know who I’m asking. Probably Sutton. I already know what Christopher wants from me, and it’s to save me from myself. Not exactly a flattering sentiment, but a familiar one.
Sutton turns to me, his jaw hard. “He’s going to tell you I’m a bastard.” He cups my face, running his thumb along my lower lip. The same thumb that he used to touch my arousal on his lip. His head bends low so only I can hear what he says. “And he’s right about that. Because a better man would leave you to him. I want you for myself.” His mouth claims mine in a kiss that my body responds to even while my mind is confused. He explores me with sensual leisure, standing between Christopher and myself. There’s no doubt what my body wants when I look up at him with my lips parted and my eyelids heavy.
