Most Eligible Billionaire CEO, page 68
“¿Amigos con derecho?” Cesar asks. Not yet, hermano. Until he fell head over heels for Diana, Cesar only had friends with benefits.
“Just friends.”
“You don’t have female friends, Christensen.”
“I do now.”
He lets out a boisterous laugh.
“If it wasn’t for Diana, I’d hang up on you.”
He laughs even harder.
“This, I have to see with my own two eyes,” he says when he regains his composure.
I shake my head.
“We’re just about to order dessert,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”
“See you and your lady friend when you get here.”
“Fucker.”
I hang up.
I meet Arianne’s expectant gaze.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“I know this is last-minute, but my buddy Cesar is throwing a big party for his girlfriend. Diana turns twenty-seven today. She doesn’t know it, but it’s a double whammy tonight. He’s going to pop the question.”
“That’s so exciting!” Arianne claps.
“Yeah, it’s a huge leap for him. He’s a consummate bachelor—”
“Says the playboy sitting across from me.”
I laugh. “I told you not to believe everything you read on Google.”
“Sure.”
I shake my head.
“Cesar is a good friend. In rehab, it was Cesar, Rhys, and me—the three misfits,” I tell her. “If there was trouble to be found, we usually did. He runs a hot sauce empire these days, but he’s still the featured artist on many chart-topping Latin hits. Back in the day, he dominated reggaeton—”
“Oh my God!” She lifts a hand up like a traffic cop, as she draws her eyebrows together. “Are you talking about Gran Herminio, aka Great Soldier, aka Puerto Rican reggaeton king Cesar Navarro and his gorgeous pop star girlfriend from the Dominican Republic, Mayté, aka Diana Estevez?”
I’m surprised by her answer.
“Yes. You know them?”
She bobs her head up and down. “When I was in college in New York, I got a crash course in Latin culture.”
“This, I have to hear.”
“My best friend Phoebe fell hard for this hot guy from the Dominican Republic. He didn’t know she existed, but she was hopelessly in love. She decided to learn everything related to DR and the Hispanic-slash-Latin culture, so when he did finally notice her, she would be ready. She enlisted me as her sidekick. She never caught his eye, but we had a hell of a semester that year. That’s the only reason I can dance salsa, eat hot sauce without my mouth burning, and the reason why I have as many Latin songs as I do on my playlist, even though I don’t understand the lyrics.”
“You dance salsa?”
“Don’t look so shocked.”
This woman has so many layers.
“I was worried this was going to put a kink in our evening, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Although Phoebe and I started out with two left feet, months of perseverance paid off. I can salsa like the best of them,” she says with a tinge of pride.
“The party is taking place at one of Cesar’s salsa clubs. You’re okay with us dropping by?”
“Absolutely!”
After enjoying our desserts, we zoomed to Cesar’s main club. He’s usually closed on Wednesday nights, so the place is packed with friends and family. Still, given his, his girlfriend’s, and the status of a few big names, security is tight. The guy spared no expense. The interior of his club is reminiscent of a flamboyant Vegas show. We arrived right before he dropped to one knee. Cesar didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to. Diana was elated and she couldn’t stop crying.
After he slipped a big ass ring on his girl’s finger, the four of us hung out for a while in one of the private lounges. A few glasses of champagne, too many desserts and a shit ton of selfies later, I weave my way through the crowd, holding onto Arianne’s hand. Cesar is about to welcome the band.
“I still can’t believe I’m here on such a big night.” Arianne shouts her comment over the music when we come to stand in front of the elevated stage. “Thank you so much for bringing me. Phoebe is going to be so jealous.”
The vivacious woman standing in front of me is a far cry from the stern, pinned-up consultant who cut me at the knee earlier today.
“One, we’re friends.”
She grins wide.
I wink. “Two, I promised a night of fun. Three, I hinted at us closing a dance floor. It doesn’t get better than Club Impacto.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she says. “Do you know how to dance salsa?” she asks. Skepticism colors her eyes before I even answer.
“While we were in rehab, Cesar challenged me. I had two left feet. With rock music, there’s more jumping around than dancing. The thing is, I don’t shy away from a challenge and I play to win!” I drive my point home with a cocksure dance move.
“I’m suitably impressed,” she says.
“Suitably?” I arch an eyebrow. “What would it take to make it just straight up, impressed?”
“Once the band starts, your ranking might improve.”
“Tough jury.” I chuckle.
She laughs.
“This night is so unlike me,” she says, looking around before settling her gaze onto mine.
“Is that a good thing?”
She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and nods. “You’re rubbing off on me.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You dirty girl.”
“I said, you’re rubbing off on me. Not you’re rubbing me off—” Her eyes grow wide and she covers her mouth. Her shock is evident.
What a slip of the tongue.
“That can be arranged,” I say.
I expect her to avert her eyes, but she doesn’t.
She holds my daring gaze and her tempting lips part.
It’s like she’s about to say something, but her brain can’t come up with anything.
I’m in big trouble.
Rhys’s challenge is a cock blocker I could do without.
Fuck.
“Can I get your attention, please,” Cesar says into a microphone, walking up onstage.
“The show is starting,” Arianne says before tearing her gaze away from mine.
The moment is gone.
Cesar invites Cienfuegos to the stage. A short black guy sporting a dyed platinum blond afro introduces the group. In heavy, accented English, he lets us know the first song is a salsa rendition of an old chart-topper. Something about a special request. After roaring applause, Cienfuegos kicks things off with a bang. The second the song blares through the speakers, everyone, including Arianne, recognizes it and cheers. I’m clueless, but I can handle the animated beat.
I grab my dancing partner by the waist and we start moving to the music.
I make out the words of the bridge.
Amigos con derecho.
The irony is uncanny.
I search the crowd for Cesar. He’s dancing with his fiancée. That ridiculous grin stretching his lips says it all.
“Fucker,” I mouth.
“Friends with benefits,” he mouths back with a wink.
I shake my head.
Thank God, Arianne is oblivious to our sparring.
She’s already lost to the music.
Wow. She can dance.
She can really dance.
There’s no hesitation in her bold movements.
I could watch her body sway so bewitchingly to this seductive beat for the rest of my natural life.
Damn.
It’s like she’s in a trance. My cock is this close from busting a vein just from watching her.
I can’t even adjust myself inconspicuously.
After an hour of feverish dancing, my cock is aching, an annoying reminder of my vow of chastity.
I shall not succumb to temptation.
I keep repeating the mantra over and over in my head, although I know I’m only kidding myself. The woman dancing in front of me is on fire. Her messy updo is a lot messier. Strands of hair caress her cheeks. Without thinking, I unlace our fingers and brush a few of them behind her ears.
Arianne’s eyes move up to mine.
I read something I haven’t seen so far.
Lust.
With a soft touch, I allow my fingers to glide down to her mouth. I trace her lower lip with my thumb, smearing her perfectly applied lipstick. She shivers but doesn’t ask me to stop. What she does next surprises me. She grabs hold of my wrist, closes her eyes, and allows her lips to part.
An invitation?
Goddammit.
The need to slip my thumb between those plump lips is overwhelming, but I resist. We’re surrounded by too many people—and too many phones—and the last thing I need is to give Cesar more ammunition.
It’s just a dance.
To my regret, the song ends.
Arianne opens her eyes.
The black guy with the platinum blond hair makes an announcement in Spanish. Judging from the reaction of the crowd, it must be another favorite. A petite brunette with waist-length hair wearing thigh-high sparkly silver boots and a white micro mini dress steps up to a mic. With one nod, the band starts playing. The frantic tempo of the previous song slows down to a more melodic salsa.
Fuck, it’s about to get worse for me.
“Probablemente,” Arianne says. “I love this song. Especially, Daniela Darcourt’s version.”
The beat is dangerously sexy, only enhanced by the smokey-timbre of the female vocalist.
Arianne lets go of my hands and to my utter shock she goes for it.
I stand back and admire her in awe.
I can’t peel my eyes off her.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Beautiful in an unassuming way.
Beautiful because she’s clueless to her natural beauty.
Beautiful because she’s oblivious to the sensuality buried deep inside her.
I’m so wrapped up with her, everyone around us ceases to exist. Not that it matters because every single person here seems caught up in the bewitching notes of the song.
The woman who seemed so distant—so in control—loses herself in a series of outrageous and dizzying dance moves, matching Probablemente’s enraptured tempo. Every movement is an assault, fraying my weakening resolve. Glistening pearls of sweat trail across her forehead, testament to her feverish dancing.
A standoffish Arianne is a challenge that gets my engine roaring, but this carefree version is intoxicating, and I’m not quite sure what to make of her yet.
As the tempo increases, she lifts her skirt up just enough to bring more attention to her slender curves. My head jerks back, astounded when she slaps each ass cheek as her hips suggestively sway left to right.
God, those hips.
My cock throbs to the beat of her dancing.
My pulse is racing faster than a well-built automobile breaking three hundred miles per hour on the track.
I’m turned on beyond belief.
And fuck if I don’t want to drop to my knees and find out how sweet she tastes. I want to lick my way down her stomach and look up to see that same cock-hardening expression on her face while I devour her pussy.
I want to hear my name on her lips when she comes.
Damn challenge.
When the bridge hits again, I reach out and pull her to me.
She doesn’t resist.
I slide a hand around the dip of her waist, resting it against the small of her back. I mentally warn myself not to slide even lower because right now the only thing I want to do is grope that fine ass and force her body to grind against my impossibly hard cock.
Too many witnesses.
We’re pressed so close together, I’m sure I can feel her heart beating.
And she can feel every inch of me.
There’s no mistaking what’s happening here.
Our eyes lock onto each other’s.
A second ticks by.
Another.
And another.
The air is filled with an intense tension. No, raw passion.
She doesn’t stop dancing.
She keeps fucking tempting me.
With my hands resting against her hips, I feel the sexy sway of every undulation.
The way she rolls her tempting hips suggests there’s a bad girl trapped inside her delectable body, dying to be unleashed. She just needs a willing soul to coax her out to play.
Lucky for her, I’m in a very giving mood.
I lean into her until my mouth is so close to hers, I can nearly taste the champagne on her breath. “We can keep dancing, or we can go back to your place and become more acquainted as friends.” I’m using the same low rasp I use to tell a woman to spread her legs wide for me so I can have access to her pussy. I haven’t used that voice in a while.
I pull away from her.
Even under the dim lights, the heat radiating from her eyes is unmistakable.
“I vote for the latter,” I say when she remains silent.
This can go either way.
She can shut me down again or she can give me what I want.
I’ve never had my ass handed to me before. Not even once. I can’t imagine it happening four times on the same day.
A slow smile curves her lips as she tilts her head back.
Her half-lidded eyes are scorching, her desire as palpable as mine.
“Friends who work together could be a dicey, slippery slope,” she says.
It’s a valid point.
“This is uncharted territory for me, Arianne. You’re exempt from the fraternization clause, so we aren’t breaking any rules. As for us working together, we’re adults. I’m sure we can handle it.”
“You didn’t want to be friends with any of the other consultants in the past?”
“The men are automatically eliminated.”
She laughs.
“As for the other women, no. None of them looked as fucking hot as you,” I say. “I hope you’ll be my first friend.”
“Something tells me you haven’t said that to too many women.”
“You’re right. See how special you are?”
She considers me.
I pull her to me, fusing us together. Not that I know how that’s possible considering we’re already breathing the same air.
She gasps.
I’ve been good so far. I’m done being good.
I grind my impossibly hard cock against her. It’s provocative. There’s no mistaking the message.
“Jesus.”
“Is that a yes?” I cut to the chase.
“Yes.”
One word.
Endless possibilities.
Chapter 18
Arianne
Every cell in my body is on high alert. My skin is prickling with an all-encompassing electric current. Although my feet have barely touched the ground from this enchanting evening, there’s a voice yelling at me.
Mayday! Mayday!
Pending invasion!
Abort mission.
I repeat. Abort mission. Now!
Do you copy, Buchanan?
Extricate yourself from this perilous situation before it’s too late!
Do not try to be a superhero. You will get burned!
You are no match for the irresistible scorching-hot boss-slash-client.
Save yourself, girl.
SAVE YOURSELF!
The sophisticated security system I’ve carefully spent two years building to protect me from the enemy—aka, men—falters. All the circuits are cross-wired, which explains why I’m so helpless now. When I perfected the code, I didn’t take Beckett Christensen into account.
I know firsthand an office romance can be disastrous.
I shouldn’t be in this predicament again.
I promised myself I never would.
But here’s the thing, it may be past midnight, but I’m still wearing my glass slippers, and the ocean-blue eyes staring down at me are making me dizzy with need.
I don’t lust over men. Until the incident in the elevator, I couldn’t spell the word.
I’m too levelheaded for that, but here I am.
Lustful and desirous.
I can laugh at Phoebe as much as I want, but right now, my pussy is fluttering-palpitating-pulsating-quivering-throbbing so much, I’m this close to coming.
The ride in Beckett’s pricey sports car to my sublet is excruciating. We don’t say much, but the complicit side gazes we exchange speak volumes. Same goes for that sexy smile stretching his lips.
“You haven’t changed your mind?” he asks, cutting the engine of his sports car.
I can play it two ways tonight. I can retreat to my usual MO and spend the night alone, or I can let one of LA’s most notorious bachelor playboys have his wicked way with me.
I shake my head. “No. I still want this.” I want you.
Fire lights his eyes.
“I would’ve been thoroughly disappointed if you didn’t.”
“I’m sure my sublet isn’t what you’re used to—”
“I’m not coming up to your place for the décor. I’m coming up for you!” He taps the tip of my nose.
We ride the elevator from the guest parking lot up to my apartment in silence.
I’m so nervous, I wouldn’t know what to say, anyway. Not to mention, the wetness pooling between my legs renders me speechless.
No man has ever had this kind of hold on me before.
I barely have time to lock the door and turn on a few lights when Beckett has me spinning around. My back lands against the door. His hands come to rest on either side of my head, making me his hostage. His willing hostage.
“I’m going to enjoy getting to know my new friend,” he says.
The flames burning from his blue eyes, his roughened breathing and the overwhelming nearness of his tall, hard body is too much to handle. My back arches against the door, drawing his gaze down to my breasts and back up to my eyes.
My chest heaves as I struggle to breathe.
I can’t believe he’s looking at me this way.
I swallow as he edges closer, my throat suddenly dry.
“I don’t want this to come across the wrong way… but I need to know. Are you a virgin?”
