Millionaire Playboys: Paying the Playboy's Price

Oh, man. He swallowed, but his mouth remained as dry as a dust bowl. “No stereo.”

She blinked. “You don’t own a stereo? Isn’t that a little unusual given your previous occupation?”

“Music’s no longer a part of my life.”

“Why?”

For a lot of reasons, none of which he’d share. “No time.”

“Was it hard to walk away from something you loved?”

Dammit. Why did she insist on getting inside his head? Every time they met, she peppered him with questions. “No.”

Liar. There were times—like today, like now—when feelings bottled up inside him and his fingers twitched for his guitar so he could pour out those emotions. As a teen and later as an adult, he’d worked through his tangled thoughts with music, singing, writing lyrics or just playing melodies long into the night. Sometimes he’d thought music was the only thing that kept him sane.

The more time he spent with Juliana, the more his thoughts strayed to the old Fender in the back of his closet. But he wouldn’t pull out the instrument, wouldn’t let her force him back into that world. A world that had cost him his family, his home, his friends and his self-respect.

She rose and crossed to where he stood by the window overlooking the dark street below. He sucked in an unsteady breath and her spices-and-flowers scent filled his nostrils. “How did you do it? How did you find the courage to make your own life?”

The uncertainty in her eyes knocked him senseless. If she’d boldly come on to him, whispered naughty intentions in his ear or just planted those delicious red lips on his, he could have resisted her. Probably. But the doubts clouding her eyes shredded his defenses.

“What’s wrong with your life?” From where he stood, her life looked pretty damned good.

She tipped her head back. Her breath swept across his lips and his pulse stalled. “Expectations. Theirs. Mine. Sometimes it feels like my life’s not my own and what I want doesn’t matter.”

Sympathy softened his clenched muscles. This was the stuff she hadn’t told the reporter, either, the first night or tonight. And he’d bet these were the demons that had driven her to buy him at the auction. He wanted to know more and yet he didn’t. Knowing meant understanding. Understanding meant weakening. Weakening meant failing. Himself. Kelly. The girls. Juliana.

He didn’t want to like Juliana, didn’t want to respect her, but if anybody could understand the pressure of others’ expectations, he could.

He rolled his tense shoulders. “I know what you mean. For as far back as I can remember, my life was mapped out. Most kids get asked what they want to be when they grow up. Nobody ever asked me. I was born to take over the family ranch like my father and my grandfather before him.”

“But that’s not what you wanted?”

Just thinking about being tied to the ranch made his skin shrink. “I didn’t want to spend year after year worrying about drought, disease or whether there would be enough money left to put food on the table after a rough winter. I didn’t want to die young because I worked myself into an early grave like my grandfather. I wanted more. And I wanted out. Out of that one-stoplight town. Out from under my father’s thumb.”

Why hadn’t he ever tried to explain his fears to his parents instead of hurling abuse at them? “I took off. But not without burning my bridges first. I followed my heart. That doesn’t mean it didn’t get me into trouble.”

Her teeth worried her bottom lip. He fisted his hands against the urge to free the soft swell from assault. “So you do understand. And all I need is the courage to follow my heart?”

“Something like that, but there are always consequences for the choices you make, Juliana. And sometimes by the time you realize the price you’ve paid is too high, it’s too late to fix it.”

All she needed was courage, but courage was the one thing Juliana lacked most at the moment.

If this had been a face-off with the top dog at the FDIC, she’d have been rock steady, but all she wanted was to feel like a woman instead of a pawn in a banking merger. The passion in Rex’s kiss could give her that.

His heat and masculine scent ensnared her. Juliana’s legs trembled and she felt slightly dizzy from an adrenaline rush. Couldn’t he tell how much she needed his touch? Why wouldn’t he kiss her?

Why don’t you kiss him?

A novel idea. And a scary one. But taking an active role wasn’t nearly as scary as it once had been because she liked and trusted Rex.

But what if he rebuffed her again? Would she have to give up and admit her tepid romance with Wally was all she deserved? A touch of panic quickened her pulse.

“What is it you want so badly?” he asked.

“I want to take control of my life, to do something just because I want to not because it’s expected or because it’s the wisest course of action.” She swallowed and dampened her lips. “I want you, Rex Tanner.”

His eyes slammed shut and his jaw muscles bunched. “Bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Faking moxie she didn’t possess, she rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. He stiffened and remained as rigid as a sun-baked brick wall while she brushed her lips over his once, twice, a third time. If not for the rapid hammering of his heart beneath the palms she’d braced on his chest, she’d think him unaffected. Encouraged by that telling sign, she licked his bottom lip. A groan rumbled from deep in his throat.

Slowly, she settled back on her feet. “Show me how to take control, Rex.”

A battle raged in his eyes. Just when she’d convinced herself she’d played her cards and lost, and her hopes began to sink, he snatched her upper arms, yanked her close and slammed his mouth over hers in a hard, unrestrained kiss.

Shock lasted scant seconds and then a myriad of sensations engulfed her. The inferno of his tongue as it sliced through the seam of her lips to tangle with hers, the heat of his hands as they splayed over her hips and pulled her against the branding iron of his erection combined with his taste and scent to overwhelm and arouse her beyond her wildest expectations. The infusion of pure, undiluted passion made Juliana drunk with desire and doubly glad she’d never been exposed to this level of arousal before, because without a doubt, the rush was addictive.

His hands skated upward until his thumbs reached the bare skin above her jeans. He drew circles on either side of her navel. She broke the kiss to gasp for air. The simple caress made her a lover of low-rider jeans for life. Her gaze lifted from his beard-shadowed jaw to kiss-dampened lips and then to his dark, hungry eyes.

His unblinking gaze held hers as one big hand coiled in the dangling end of her belt, holding her captive. The other raked upward, sweeping beneath her voile camisole and over her waist and ribs to cup her breast. Her fragile bra was no barrier to the back-and-forth motion of his thumb over the sensitive tip. A knot of need tightened in her belly, pulling tauter with each slow pass until every thought centered on quenching the fire he’d ignited. Her lids grew heavy. She fought to stay focused on Rex’s face.

No man had ever looked at her that way, as if he would strip her bare and take her where she stood or die trying.

She liked it. Liked knowing she’d reached the limits of his control. And hers.

A shiver chased over her skin. She’d always dreamed of a man who wanted her—her—not the Alden heiress. And she’d found him. Too bad forever wasn’t in the cards. Even if she wasn’t a boring bank auditor who calculated the odds of every endeavor, she could never hold the attention of a man who thrived on taking risks, a man who had the courage to confront his fears.

But she wouldn’t think about that. Not now.

He worked magic with his fingers, teasing her, tantalizing her. Her nails curled and unfurled against his chest, but his T-shirt was in the way. She wanted to touch his skin. Before she could pull the hem of his shirt from his waistband, he’d released the front catch of her bra and palmed her. Rational thought evaporated the moment his hot fingers enclosed her. She dug her nails into his waist, fisting cotton and tugging him closer.

His mouth slanted over hers, softer this time, but still ravenous. He suckled her bottom lip, bit it gently and then soothed her with his tongue.

One of them was trembling. Her? Him? Who cared?

He removed his hand, and she whimpered a protest at the loss of warmth, but then he whisked her top over her head and crushed the fragile fabric in his hand. He lifted it to his face and inhaled deeply as if drawing in her essence. Wow. So sexy. And then Rex backed toward the bedroom, leading her by the leash of her macramé belt. Her heart raced, yet her feet seemed to move in slow motion.

Inside the bedroom he stopped. “You’re a smart lady. Tell me to get out.”

She gulped air and responded by closing and locking the door. He dropped her blouse and flicked her bra straps over her shoulders with one finger. Juliana shrugged and the lacy garment fell to the floor. Rex traced the curves of her breasts with his eyes and then with long fingers. He grazed her tight nipples with his short nails and her breath shuddered in and out again. Dragging her by her belt, he backed toward the bed and sat, pulling her between his splayed legs to take her nipple into his hot mouth.

Her head fell back on a moan. She slapped her fingers over her mouth. With the girls next door, she had to be quiet. And for the first time in her life, being quiet during sex might be a challenge.

Rex untied her belt, but held both ends, holding her hostage—not that she intended going anywhere now that he was finally doing what she’d hoped for all along. He ravaged her breasts with gentle scrapes of his raspy evening beard, soft tugs from his seductive lips and silken swipes from his hot, wet tongue, and then he drew her deep into his mouth. Her knees wobbled. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and then tangled them in his hair. His leather tie was in the way. She pulled it free and combed her fingers through the long, soft strands.

Rex plucked at the button and zip of her jeans. His knuckles brushed her navel and her stomach muscles rippled involuntarily. His big palm scorched a path from one hip to the other as he eased the snug denim down one inch at a time. By the time he got the fabric to her knees, she was ready to rip her jeans off, throw them across the room and beg him to fill the empty ache expanding inside her. She braced herself on his shoulders and stepped out of the pants. Eager, impatient, she burned with an unfamiliar urgency.

Rex drew back to examine her itty-bitty panties with an appreciative gaze. Had she ever felt this desirable in her life? No. Bless the lingerie store at the mall.