Page 88 of Filthy Hot Billionaire
But there had to be a reason, something other than my father’s excuse that Knox was vengeful. Maybe I didn’t know Knox all that well because he’d been in and out of my life on such few occasions, but he’d never seemed like the vindictive sort. Why would he take it all? It wasn’t like he needed it. I’d done my own Google search on Knox Anthony Montgomery plenty of times since I’d obtained the ability to do so, and I knew what his recorded net worth was. My father’s possessions were a drop in the bucket compared to what he was worth, so none of it made sense.
I heard footsteps coming from behind me, so I turned. Stewart was standing in the doorway watching me, the light from the hallway backlighting him.
“Did you have dinner?” he asked, his tone laced with the same hurt I’d seen earlier.
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.” I motioned toward the chair across the table. “Would you please join me?”
He stared at me for a brief moment, then took one step forward, then another.
“Would you like some wine? It’s the sweet kind,” I told him. “I actually like this stuff.”
“No, thank you.” There was a small smile on his face. “I was wondering why I was instructed to order more.”
When Stewart eased down into one of the chairs across from me, I turned to face him. “I’m sorry about earlier. What I said. I didn’t mean it. Not like you think.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“Of course I do. It came out harsh. If you want to know the truth, you and Guillermo are the only reasons Idowant to stay here.” I fingered the stem of the glass. “At least right now.”
“Does that mean you’re staying?” There was a hint of hope in his tone.
I held his gaze in the dim room and made my decision. “Yeah. I’m staying.”
For now anyway. I couldn’t make promises about the future, but for the moment, I knew this was where I needed to be.
Stewart didn’t say anything, and I didn’t expect he would. He was nothing if not professional.
Forty-five minutes later, after I’d finished off the bottle of wine all by myself, I was feeling no pain. I was riding the fine high of a light buzz, loose and carefree.
When Stewart said good night, I took my cell phone and went up to the third floor, to the bedroom that was now mine. The heavy drapes that would block out the morning sunlight were still open, the night flooding into the dimly lit room. I felt an odd euphoria, as though I was at the top of the world looking down. It made me smile, the wine likely fueling my mood.
I yawned, which made me giggle.
“Is it hot in here?” I asked my reflection, giggling when I nodded in answer. “It is, huh?”
Oh, yeah. Definitely no pain.
I managed to toe off one of my boots without falling on my ass. I then moved on to the other, teetering on one foot, then stumbling once or twice, laughing uncontrollably by the time I managed to remove it. My socks came next, then I was stripping off my leggings, my gaze swinging back to the reflection in the window. I worked my bra like magic under my sweater, unhooking it, then peeling it down my arms and tossing it away. I stood like that for a moment, stripped down to my sweater and panties, feeling emboldened by the wine that had replaced the blood in my veins.
The next thing I knew, I was yanking the sweater over my head, still staring at myself while glimpsing the night beyond. I stood there in only my panties, and I was reminded of the waitresses at the club with their pasties and G-strings. I primped and preened, pretending for a moment I was a sex goddess. I wasn’t, I knew that deep down. I was skinny and pale and … well, I’d say ordinary. Not lush or curvy like the women who could turn a man’s head. Like the women in the feather headdresses strutting through the club.
Thinking about the club made me think about Kieran, which in turn made me think about Knox.
A flush rolled through my entire body and my hands slid up my torso to cup my breasts while I watched myself. My nipples grew taut, my palms gliding over them sending shockwaves of pleasure darting through my body. I remained just like that, teasing myself with light touches while thinking about what it would feel like to have Kieran’s or Knox’s hands on me. Or both.
The thought had heat slamming through me, and suddenly I felt a bit woozy, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. I kept my eyes open only so I wouldn’t fall over, stared at my reflection, and imagined Knox standing behind me. My imagination turned my hands into his as they cupped my breasts, lifting their firm weight, kneading gently.
When I started to sway, I stumbled over to the bed, crawled up into it, and reclined, staring up at the darkened ceiling.
I let my hands wander, gave myself over to the pleasure of my own touch, hating the loneliness that came along with it. For the past two years, I’d done my best to assuage this deep-rooted ache that Knox had ignited that night in the hot tub, but I never succeeded. Every so often I could take the edge off, but never had I been completely sated. It was as though my libido was in a state of suspended animation, fighting through the hibernation, seeking life. Only there was no one here to sate the urge, to fulfill the desire that tormented me.
I was about to get daring and slip my hand into my panties when my phone buzzed on the nightstand, drawing my attention. I flopped over, reached for it.
Okay, maybe I was a bit intoxicated, I decided when I tapped the screen to see the message. I squinted to read it, saw that there was a new text message from an unknown number.
I pulled it up, read it. Smiled. Read it again.
Good night, love. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.
