The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(80)

He released her hair, sweeping it over one shoulder and flattening his palm on her back. He traced a line to her bottom, which he then molded with his palms.

“Grab hold of those blankets, Dimples.”

She watched him, in his element with calm control. Had he been holding back, waiting for her to come around this whole time? She clutched the blankets, anchoring herself to the bed, trusting him fully. When he slid out and back in again, she uttered a helpless moan. He bracketed her hips with his hands, drew back and thrust so hard the backs of her thighs slapped the front of his.

“Oh!”

“Oh, what?” he grunted as he drove into her again.

“Tag,” she breathed, no, panted. She was soaked and so ready, the next plunge went deep and struck her right where she needed. She exclaimed his name again and again as he rode her hard from behind.

“There?”

“There,” she affirmed, her entire body warming. Buzzing. Coiling in anticipation.

Fixed on that spot, he worked her into a frenzy, until she’d lost the ability to hold her head up and broke a fingernail while clutching the blanket. The bite of pain was nothing to the epic release that unfurled like silk.

Her soft cries met his potent growl, one that reverberated through her entire body. She managed enough strength to raise her head and take in the beauty of Tag coming. His pleated brow, the way his lips drew back over his teeth. His muscles stiffening, abs clenching…

He folded over her, breath heavy and hot on her shoulder blade before he covered the spot with a damp kiss. He left her body, and Rachel’s knees went out from under her. She dropped to her belly, aware of Tag climbing off the bed to dispose of the condom. Then he was back, hand pushing her hair off her face and lips pressing to the corner of her mouth. He lay next to her on the bed, sweat beading his brow. A small smile tickled his mouth as he elbowed her.

“Dimples. Look.”

Sleepily, she raised her head to rest it on her chin. Their reflections looked back at them, both satisfied. Tag’s golden brown hair was as messy as hers.

“Who knew it could get better?” she asked.

Tag’s head turned toward her and she faced him.

“Better than with your ex?” A hint of jealousy streaked his expression. She’d never seen that look on him before. When had Tag ever worried about his performance?

“Better than the first time with you,” she said, laughing when he smiled. “Tag Crane.”

“Rachel Foster.”

They didn’t say anything more for a long while. He simply lay beside her, occasionally tracing a finger down her arm.

In that moment she realized she’d been fighting a useless battle. She couldn’t stop herself from falling for Tag.

She was already there.





Chapter 23



Tag drove Rachel to the corporate headquarters, a few blocks from the Crane Hotel. Convenient, since she now worked close by, and given the way his neck was itching, possibly encroaching on his territory. He hadn’t been overwhelmed by her presence when she lived in the damn building or when he’d taken her to Oahu, so what was with the freak-out now?

Because Reese brought up Mom’s death like some sort of pop psychiatrist.

Added to Luc’s assessment of “spun,” Tag had been thinking way too much about the future lately. In general, he was a “live in the now” type of guy. He’d like to get back to that and stop turning over what came next.

It didn’t matter what happened in the future with Rachel. She was a thread in the company fabric, and that was the way things would always be. He’d dated Fiona, and she still worked the front desk at Crane Tower, and he had no problem talking to or seeing her.

Rachel is nothing like Fiona.

Wasn’t that the truth? He’d seen a lot more of Rachel than any woman in his past. He’d been the one in heavy pursuit of her. She was wildly different than any woman he’d dated before her.

“I’m so nervous,” Rachel said, echoing his ridiculous and borderline panicky thoughts. She looked out the passenger window as Tag pulled up to the curb in front of the building. Crane HQ was a high-rise, not as tall as the Crane, but had the same clean lines, glass, and black-and-white style as their hotels. His father had been a stickler about branding. Wisely so.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told both of them. “You’ve got this. Want me to walk you in?”

“No.” Her eyes widened. “I’ll die.”

He had to smile. He’d glossed over the fact she’d cut him out of the resume/interviewing process, and really, what was there to fight about? She’d been fierce about her independence with money, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise she didn’t want his help with this, either. But it bugged him all the same. Because he’d wanted to help. Wanted to take the extra incentive with her while she’d fought him every step of the way.

She dropped a quick kiss on the center of his mouth, but he cupped the back of her head and let his lips linger. Kissing her always brought him back to center. Back to what they had. Back to what mattered.

“Have a nice day, dear,” he murmured.

“Thanks again.” She took one more kiss before stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind her.

That evening, Tag returned to his penthouse with takeout Thai food. Rachel put in her first full day, so he expected her home—he glanced at the clock on the stove—right about now.