The Billion Dollar Pact: Waking Up with the Boss (Billionaire Brothers Club) / Single Mom, Billionaire Boss / Paper Wedding, Best-Friend Bride

“I agree. It’ll be over as soon as we leave the island. We won’t ever do it again, and no one at the office will be the wiser. It’ll be our secret. But for now, I think we should enjoy each other’s company.” He held out his hand, beckoning her. “Come on, Carol. Indulge me.”

Sweet mercy, she thought. He was just too charming to resist. As she left her chair and came forward, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the living daylights out of her.

She rolled over the bed with him, letting him untie her sarong. He put his hands all over her naked body. She did the same thing to him, exploring that gorgeous golden-brown skin and those strong, sculpted muscles. She couldn’t stop touching him.

They’d both staked their claims, and now it was official. They were having a fling. A weekend rendezvous. A mind-spinning affair.

“Take a shower with me,” he said. “I want to get wet with you.”

She circled her arms around him, pressing her body closer to his. “You’re already making me wet.”

He lowered his hand, spreading her, testing her, teasing her. “That goes with the territory.”

She moaned from the pressure building between her thighs. “A shower sounds amazing.”

“Then let’s go.” He withdrew his fingers. “We can finish this in there.”

Carol wanted him to finish her, as many times as he could. They sat up, and he removed a condom from the nightstand.

She took stock of the inventory. “Do you have any more of those in your luggage?”

He fisted the packet. “No, just these.”

“There will only be three left after we use that one.”

He smiled, then jerked his head, his hair falling across his forehead. “That’s not enough for two more days?”

She smiled, too, anxious to climb into the shower with him. “I don’t know. Is it?”

“I guess we’re going to have to pace ourselves.”

So far, they weren’t doing a particularly good job of that. It wasn’t even noon yet, and already they were gearing up for water-drenched sex.

They entered his bathroom, where the contents from his shaving kit were strewn about the counter. He’d left his toothbrush and toothpaste out, too, with the tube uncapped. Carol never did that.

Of course Jake had a housekeeper who came to his house at least once a week. He had a chef who put healthy meals in his fridge, too. He’d become accustomed to people looking after his needs.

But not always, Carol reflected. He was an orphaned child, just like her, a kid who knew what it was like to be alone, with barely anyone to care.

He turned on the shower, and as soon as it was warm enough, they stepped into the clear glass enclosure. The luxuriously designed stall was big enough for two, fitting them comfortably.

They took turns under the spray, and he helped her shampoo her hair. She’d never had a man do that for her before, and it felt wonderful. He soaped down her body, too.

Slow and sudsy.

Carol washed him as well, working her way down, until she was on her knees, rinsing him clean.

“Damn,” he said, tangling his fingers through her wet hair.

She took him in her mouth. He was big and hard and getting harder with every stroke. She wasn’t normally this bold, but she wasn’t going to waste a second of their time together.

He moved with her, watching her, keeping his hands in her hair. But he didn’t let her bring him to completion.

“My turn,” he told her, changing places with her.

When Jake dropped to his knees, Carol shivered from head to toe. He was determined to make her come, and she was more than happy to let him do whatever he wanted.

Her boss had become her undoing, her vice, her craving, her full-blown, take-me, have-me, I’m-yours hunger. She didn’t want to think about how difficult it was going to be when they went home, when it was over for good, so she tried to block that from her mind.

He used his hands and his mouth. He satisfied every yearning she had, being the beautifully skilled lover that he was.

The climax he gave her rocked her to the core. She shook and shuddered and gulped the steam that was rising.

Jake stood up and tore into the condom wrapper. He put on the protection hastily and slammed into her.

Carol was going to relive this encounter for the rest of her supposedly proper life. It would never fade into oblivion, not even in a million years. She memorized everything: the hammering motion, the pounding spray from the showerhead, the bar of soap that had fallen and was spinning around the drain.

“I’ve got you where I want you,” he said, rasping the words, breathing heavily.

“I’ve got you, too.” She raked her nails over every part of him she could reach, and he rewarded her with a rough groan, proving how much he liked it.

They kissed in wild desperation. They even clanked their teeth, making frantic love, their hips thrusting to a powerful rhythm.

Then he said, “I’m not usually a morning person.”

She smiled, laughed, gazed at him through the thickness of the steam. “You could have fooled me.”

He laughed, too, looking wild and boyish, yet warm and protective. He held her tighter, and she stopped clawing him, using her fingertips to soothe the places she’d scratched.

They kissed again, only not quite so brutally this time.

Somewhere in the middle of the mania was friendship. The knowledge, she supposed, that they shared a childhood bond. That they’d lost everything, and now they had one crazy weekend, wrapped up together in bouts of guilty pleasure.

His release was strong and convulsive, and Carol absorbed the friction when he came, taking everything he was, everything about him, into her body. Until there was nothing left but the sound of running water.

* * *

After the shower, Carol and Jake ordered breakfast and had it delivered to Jake’s room. Carol was grateful that Lena had hired a staff that could be trusted, who wouldn’t sell tidbits to the tabloids or take unauthorized pictures.

Of course, Jake wasn’t a big-time celebrity. His “Beefcake Bachelor” status wasn’t enough to make him a star. No one followed him around, the way they did Lena and some of her other guests. But thank goodness this weekend was private, either way.

“Do you want to eat outside?” he asked.

“Sure. Why not?” Carol thought it sounded nice and relaxing.

He carried the tray onto the veranda, and they sat across from each other at a glass-topped table. She gazed out at the view. The pool area was vacant, almost eerily quiet.

“I wonder if anyone else is even up yet,” he said.