The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(35)

Maybe tonight she’d give herself the gift of imagining Tag. She may not be brave enough to strip herself bare and be with him, but alone in the quiet of the giant spa tub in her borrowed penthouse, Rachel could have her cake and eat it too.

Genius.

Bubbles brimming at the edge of the tub, she put one foot in and then the other. She’d shut the door to keep the dog out, lit a vanilla candle she’d found in the back of a cabinet in the kitchen, and turned the lights off. The only glow was the warm, yellow flame matching the one burning inside her.

Closing her eyes, she sank deep in the water, slid her fingers over her body and down between her legs. She started a slow caress designed to take her where she needed, and…

Completely lost her concentration.

Her eyes snapped open and she listened for the sound of Adonis padding outside the door, but no sound came. Only the crack of the windowsills when the wind blew outside.

She closed her eyes and tried again, a hand on her breast, fingers stroking between her legs, but once again gave up after a few futile and wholly unsatisfying seconds.

She pushed herself up and braced the sides of the tub, feeling like a failure. Her body didn’t want her hands. Her body wanted Tag.

There was no substitute for him. No matter how achy and needy she felt. She grabbed a bar of soap and finished bathing in a utilitarian manner.

After toweling off, she dressed head to toe in flannel pajamas—white with tiny pink hearts—and buried herself under a mountain of blankets.

Outside the snow fell, and eventually Rachel’s eyes slid closed. She thought of Tag and the things they could have done together if she wasn’t completely intimidated by him. Her insecurities were far deeper than just her performance in bed; this had to do with a dormant part of her—the fearless, take-charge part of her.

Even as she pinpointed the issue, she couldn’t escape the clinging uncertainty that the real thing might end up as unsatisfying as both attempts to find her release in the bathtub. The idea of the sexiest man she’d ever kissed looking at her the way Shaun used to—like he was disappointed and left disappointed—made her want to crawl in a hole and die.





Chapter 10



In a moment of bravado, she’d asked Tag if she could see him again, but now Rachel was having second thoughts. After work, she trudged into Crane Tower, ready to sneak into her living room for a movie marathon—she could watch at least two before her eyes grew heavy—but didn’t make it to the elevators before she spotted Tag lounging at the bar to the left of the lobby.

His hair was down, his long-sleeved navy Henley hugging impressive biceps. A draft beer stood virtually untouched at his right elbow and his eyes were glued to a paperback novel.

He was quite possibly the sexiest vision she’d ever seen. An answering tingle started at her lips and radiated to her breasts before fluttering in her tummy. She could have him whenever she said the word. He’d made that abundantly clear.

Her penetrating fear was strong…but she was beginning to think her desire for him was even stronger.

“Thor,” she tossed out his nickname.

He lifted his head and a smile pulled his beard; then he turned to her and raised an eyebrow. A second later, the book was shut, and he swiveled to face her. She floated to him like he had a gravitational pull.

“What are you up to?” she asked. “I don’t see many readers at my bar.”

“Waiting on my date.” He pulled out the barstool next to him. “She just got here.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “I take it you’ve had practice learning to be irresistible.” She dropped her purse over the back of the chair, then took off her coat, which Tag helped her with.

“You find me irresistible?” He folded his elbows on the bar, leaning close when she sat. His blue eyes, wavy hair, the tempting curve of his mouth she now knew tasted both spicy and inviting…He knew he was irresistible.

“I’m not answering that question.” She mimicked his body language and folded her arms on the bar top. The bartender, an older woman with short gray hair, took Rachel’s order and delivered a glass of white wine.

“What are you reading?” Rachel lifted her glass and sipped.

“Murder mystery.” He showed her the cover. The book wasn’t new, with a few well-worn creases in the spine and dog-eared pages. She cringed.

“You need a bookmark.”

“Use is a sign of love,” he said simply, dropping the book back onto the bar.

She couldn’t tear her eyes off him. Once, he’d accused her of just that. She couldn’t help it. He was crazy beautiful. Being this close to him was like being granted access to the tigers at the zoo. Something about him was dangerous, but she knew he wouldn’t harm her. She was more concerned she’d swim in way over her head and drown.

Drown happily, the vixen currently residing inside her suggested. There was no other way to regain her fearlessness other than to be fearless. Being bold took practice. Boldness was something the man before her wasn’t short on.

“Were you…” She started to ask him if he was really waiting for her, but that sounded needy in her head, so she paused and rerouted. “Did you have a good day at work?”

He laughed, a low rumble she liked far too much. “Is that what you really want to ask me, Dimples?”