Burn My Hart--A Sexy Billionaire Romance Read online

  He nods. ‘A friend of mine owns it, and the gin bar across the street.’ He nods across the cobbled road, where I see a packed bar. It has marks of the same bohemian charm as this restaurant. His expression shifts for a moment and then he smiles, a smile that warms my blood. ‘I actually thought you might be interested in meeting him.’

  I sip my wine. ‘Why? Is he looking for teen make-up?’

  He grins. ‘Nah. I meant for Operation Happily Ever After.’

  He says it so easily, so comfortably, whereas his words make my ears fill with pounding blood. It’s just because it’s weird, that’s all. Sitting opposite Theo, a man with whom I’ve had the closest thing to a relationship in my adult life, prosaically discussing my next partner? It’s weird.

  ‘What’s he like?’ I ask, just because he’s looking at me expectantly, and I have to say something.

  ‘He’s a cool guy. Great surfer, likes to rock climb.’

  And, despite the absurdity of this situation, I laugh. ‘How well you know me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just...neither surfing nor rock climbing are on my “must have” list, I’ve got to be honest.’

  ‘So what is?’ He leans forward and his expression is analytical and watchful, so my mouth goes dry and a frown crosses my face.

  ‘Erm... I don’t actually have a list.’

  ‘So make one now.’

  I stare across at Theo, not letting myself populate the list with the qualities of his that I find desirable. ‘Well, I guess interesting and intelligent. Someone with a social conscience. You know, not some guy who’s just interested in showing off or whatever.’

  ‘No hipsters.’

  ‘Is this my list or yours?’

  ‘I know you.’ It’s delivered deadpan but it sends a cascade of feelings through me. Because he does know me, and that’s rare. Apart from Kevin, I keep most people at a distance in life. ‘Money?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Does he have to have it?’

  I think about that a moment. ‘He has to not care that I have it.’ I blink away for a moment, knowing he sees everything and understands me way better than I’d like.

  ‘That’s an issue for you?’

  I swallow. ‘It has been.’ There’s no point in dissembling with Theo.

  ‘Some fortune hunter fiasco?’

  He makes light of it but I can’t quite summon a smile.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  I blink towards him. ‘It was a long time ago.’

  He swears under his breath and reaches for my hand. ‘I’m sorry. No one... You should never...’ He shakes his head, apparently lost for words. ‘What happened?’

  ‘You know, it was just some guy I liked, a long time ago. I thought he was The One; he thought I was his ticket to fame and fortune.’ I shake my head and now my lips twist into a rueful expression. ‘It was my own fault. I think I was rebelling against Dad, even then. He hated the guy, told me it would be a disaster. He was right, as it turns out.’

  Theo’s expression is like thunder. ‘He was an idiot.’

  ‘My dad’s not... He’s just...’

  ‘Not your father,’ Theo mutters. ‘The ass-wipe who saw your net worth as your utmost value.’

  I dip my head. ‘It’s probably a hard thing to look beyond, for most people. So yeah, someone with money makes it a bit more straightforward—I’d never have any doubts, at least, about why they were interested in me.’

  ‘Done.’ His expression is inscrutable. ‘What else?’

  ‘Someone who’s kind, and patient. Who understands that I work long hours and gets why my work matters to me.’ My smile lifts. ‘Someone who makes me want to not work twenty hours a day.’ I ignore how much of my list is a part of Theo. ‘Someone who’s ready to settle down, I guess, who’s past the whole messing around stage of life.’

  I feel like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward so I catch the faintest hint of his masculine fragrance and my insides react accordingly. His expression is impossible to read. ‘I know the perfect guy.’

  ‘Really?’ I’m sceptical, but I don’t tell Theo that. I don’t even want to admit as much, because I have no idea why I should be. ‘Tell me about him.’

  ‘Carrington Hughes-White. Carey. He’s thirty, a financier, but he funds a charity project in Africa on the side—’

  I roll my eyes. ‘Because it looks good to his corporate investors?’

  ‘No, Miss Cynical, because he understands that humanity is only as good as the way we treat those in need. He’s a good guy, Asha. You’d like him.’

  Am I imagining that his voice sounds raw and throaty? Probably, because his look is completely relaxed. Amused, even.

  My gut feels like a stone has rolled through it. I don’t want to have this conversation with him, but here I am, in the middle of what we’ve agreed to, trapped by it, and held in place by how completely okay Theo is with all of this. ‘Okay, what else?’

  ‘He’s independently wealthy—self-made.’

  ‘How do you know him?’

  ‘I went to school with him. Scholarship kid.’

  ‘And he’ll be at the wedding?’

  ‘He’s like a brother to us—to all of us. Yeah, he’ll be there.’

  I dip my head again, not sure what to say, not sure how I feel. The wedding is still far enough away that I don’t really want to think about it. And yet I lift my head and lance him with the directness of my stare. ‘What’s the deal with you and weddings, anyway?’

  ‘Weddings? Nothing.’

  But it’s forced. I know him better than that; I understand him.

  ‘Come on.’ I reach across and squeeze his hand. ‘No one’s born hating love. What happened?’

  His expression doesn’t shift.

  ‘Did a girl break your heart?’ My tone is teasing, purposely kept light.

  He doesn’t respond.

  ‘Or a guy?’

  One brow lifts with mocking amusement.

  ‘Come on, Theo. What’s the deal?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  Does it? It shouldn’t, and yet... ‘I’m curious.’ And then my toe runs over his calf. ‘Indulge me.’

  ‘I intend to.’

  My pulse races, but there’s a niggle of frustration too.

  Perhaps he detects that because he expels a breath as he lifts a hand, signalling for the bill.

  ‘There’s no great secret. No heartbreak. I just had plenty of opportunity to see what relationships do to people. It’s not pretty. I think I was about ten years old when I swore I’d be single for ever.’

  Sympathy makes my heart hurt. ‘You were just a boy, though. Surely at some point you grew out of that?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ His grin shows a total lack of regret. ‘I’m not cut out for relationships, Asha. This is who I am. I grew up in a house that was constantly shaking from arguments, fights, disagreements, affairs.’ He shakes his head. ‘My brother Holden is dealing with the fallout of our father’s bullshit decisions even now, decades later. Love makes people stupid, reckless and malicious. Why would I sign up for that?’

  ‘Because love can also make people happy?’

  ‘I am happy,’ he says simply. ‘There’s not a single part of me that feels like I’m missing out.’

  His determination is hard to argue with.

  ‘I guess I had the opposite experience,’ I say after a moment’s pause, a small frown on my face. ‘My dad loved my mom. He was so devoted to her. For years after her death, she was all he could talk about. My whole life has been defined by his love for her. Caroline—my stepmother—is really good about it. She never wanted to compete with Mom; she understands Dad thinks of her as the love of his second life. So I see lov
e in all its forms—the love Dad holds for Mom, and the way he and Caroline love each other. It’s the opposite of what you’ve described. There’s so much respect and kindness, reason and affection. And happiness, yes.’

  I don’t say how set apart from that happiness I am, that my father lives in a bubble and I am kept firmly on the outside.

  He sips his drink, his eyes boring into mine. ‘That’s great—for them.’

  Message received, loud and clear. He’s not shifting in his opinion—but this I already knew. Why is that bothering me all of a sudden? Perhaps it’s simply knowing we’re nearing the end. Or maybe it’s just feminine ego, like I want him to want me for ever and ever? It is weird to think he can let me go so easily, that he can set me up with a friend without a care in the world.

  Could I do the same? I imagine introducing Theo to someone else. No, choosing a friend who would be perfect for him. I imagine watching sparks fly, and the thought spreads like poison through my veins.

  So maybe he’s a better person than I am. Maybe he’s a better friend. Or maybe he’s just way better at delineating sex from anything else.

  I’m being stupid.

  Ridiculous.

  We’ve both been clear about what we want from the beginning. There’s no way I’m going to ruin our last few weeks together by over-thinking everything. It was better, easier, when we didn’t get too deep—sex is sex; he’s right.

  ‘Do you want to take a look at the dessert menu?’ he offers.

  My eyes latch onto his and I shake my head slowly, my intent clear.

  ‘Do you want to go home?’

  My nod is just as slow. I lean forward, a smile playing about my lips, ‘And then I want to fuck you all night long, Theo Hart.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  I DON’T KNOW if it’s the wine or our conversation but my body is burning up for Theo in a way I can barely contain. We get a cab back to my place—even though it’s a beautiful summer night and the walk would be nice. I can’t wait. I need him. There’s something affirming in sleeping with him, like it reminds me of who we are and what we’re doing together.

  As soon as we reach the apartment I jerk the door inwards and then practically jump on him, my body melding to his, all thoughts of my long day forgotten, all thoughts of anything forgotten. There is only this.

  ‘You are so fucking hot,’ he groans, as though it’s a complaint, his hands finding the waistband of my skirt and separating my shirt from it, pushing it up my body roughly, hungrily, desperately. I lift my arms to make it easier; he tosses it across the room then unclips my bra, his fingers worshipping the soft flesh of my breasts, his touch sparking wildfire across my body. I make a whimpering noise as he kisses me, pleasure radiating through me, but he’s catching my hands and pinning them to my sides so I can’t move, I’m trapped by him, as he kisses me lower, his mouth dragging over my throat, his stubble rough against my soft flesh. His bun tickles my nose and I laugh, but it’s a deranged sound because pleasure is building inside of me like a wave and I need so much more, so much faster.

  ‘I need...’

  I don’t finish the sentence, but he nods. ‘I know. I know. Fuck.’

  I hear the desperation in his words and know this is just as urgent for him, that he can wait no longer. Power rocks me because I, and I alone, am capable of bringing a man like Theo Hart to his knees. Okay, maybe not just me, but I don’t want to think about him with another woman, especially not now.

  He pushes my skirt down and then nudges it lower with his knee, his body surrounding mine as he guides me across the lounge room, towards the bedroom. My skirt falls somewhere on the floor, and then his hands are in my thong, pushing at the lace, holding it low enough for me to step out of. But he pulls away from me then, his eyes dropping to the scrap of fabric, a look in his eyes that sparks a firestorm in my blood.

  He keeps it in his hand as he brings his mouth back to mine, kissing me so perfectly, so achingly exactly like I want it. His tongue is duelling with mine, his other hand—the hand that doesn’t hold my underwear—is lifting up to cup my cheek then moving behind my hair, dragging me to him, holding me right there so he can plunder me. I whimper against him and then I’m lifting my leg, wrapping it around his waist, trying to bring him closer.

  Damn it, he’s still dressed. ‘Way too many clothes,’ I mutter, the words panting out of me.

  ‘Yeah.’ His own voice wobbles; he laughs huskily then strips out of his shirt, revealing his chest to me. I’m so hungry for him and yet I lift a hand to his naked chest, stilling him, slowing things down. I stare at the ridges created by his muscular definition, tracing each one with my fingertip, dropping my mouth to his collarbone. I run my teeth along it, delighting in the way his breath snags in his throat, in the racing of his pulse that I can feel beneath my lips. I move my hand, laying my palm flat over his pec so every rapid thump of his heart resonates inside me and my own answers it. In that moment my heart beats for his, and the speed of his. We are matched.

  He growls, pushing at his boxers, no longer able to wait, and I understand, but God, I just want to savour this. I’m conscious time’s running out for us and I want to remember every little detail. I trace his tattoo with my tongue, smiling as I imagine a young Theo going to get inked, aligning himself with a Greek god. Though, to be fair, he wasn’t wrong.

  There is something Greek god-like about him—didn’t I think that the night we met? A shiver runs down my spine as I remember the first time we made love when he was new and I had no idea what to expect. His power and strength, his skill and attentiveness.

  ‘You really are so good at this,’ I whisper, moving around to his back, pushing his boxers the rest of the way, cupping his naked bottom, the muscles there making it firm beneath my touch.

  He spins around, pinning me with his arms, and a second later his mouth is on mine, my gentle exploration at an end as he ratchets this up, his need palpable. He wraps his arms around my back and pulls me to him so his arousal slams against my belly, hard and insistent. I reach between us, cupping my fingers around him, smiling against his mouth as anticipation fills me.

  ‘Turn around.’ It’s a guttural command.

  I lift my face to his for a second but he flashes me a tight smile—tight, I think, because he can barely hold on another moment—and then he’s bending me forward towards the bed.

  ‘Stay there.’

  Another command, and this time I obey it without question. I lie with my wrists on the bed and when he comes back I hear the tell-tale noise of protection and then his hands are on my thighs, spreading my legs wider. He mutters something in Greek and then he drives himself into me, his possession from behind so deep, so all-consuming while his hands on my hips steady me as pleasure blinds me momentarily.

  ‘Theo...’ His name on my lips is a curse and a prayer. I dig my nails into the bed, holding on for dear life, fully aware I’m at risk of losing myself and not sure I care. ‘God, Theo.’

  He moves his hands to curve around my rear, and all I can do is feel—I feel every shift of his body, every thrust, every breath that whooshes out of him. I feel the balmy night air breezing through the half-open window, I feel the softness of the bed beneath me. I feel Theo in every pore of my body. I squeeze my eyes shut as I come, pleasure bursting over me like a dam wall at breaking point.

  I don’t realise I’m screaming until his hand curves over my mouth and a husky laugh emerges from him. ‘You’re going to wake all of Paris.’

  ‘Don’t. Give. A. Shit.’ I press my face to the bed, my cheeks warm, my eyes foggy. It’s too good. Everything about this moment is mind-blowing. But then he brings a hand around to my clit and begins to rub my sensitive flesh as he moves deep inside me and I can barely hold myself together. I bite down on my lip to stop from screaming so loudly but God, this feels good.

  He is an expert at my body, an expert at me.


  I feel another wave building but, before it can crash over me, his hands are chasing mine, catching the wrists, holding them completely still.

  ‘I want to tie you up,’ he murmurs, so my heart rate accelerates and I am beyond speech for a moment. ‘What do you think?’

  My mouth is dry. The image of being at his command is intensely erotic. ‘Do you have any cable ties?’ I joke, but my voice is airy and thin.

  ‘Something better.’ He slaps my butt lightly and releases my hands. ‘Hop up.’

  He pulls out of me and I climb up onto the bed, moving to the centre. His hands catch mine once more and his body comes over me, his gaze locked to mine as he presses my fingers to the ornate wrought iron bedhead. It takes me a second to realise he’s using my thong as a restraint, weaving it in and out of the metal and around my wrists.

  ‘Seriously?’

  He grins. ‘Innovative, right?’

  ‘Genius.’

  His eyes hold a warning and then he kisses me once, hard, fast, before lifting his face and staring down at me once more. ‘Let’s see if it’ll hold.’

  I don’t realise what he means until his tongue is on my sex, running over my flesh, tormenting me and delighting me. I cry out and buck my hips, jerking on my arms but they don’t move. They can’t. I’m effectively trapped.

  ‘Theo!’

  His laugh is warm against my flesh and then his tongue is at my clit, his fingers separating me and sliding inside so my whole body is filling with warmth and heat. ‘Fuck!’

  He laughs again, a gravelly sound.

  ‘This isn’t...fair...’

  ‘Do you want me to untie you?’

  I push up to stare at him. ‘No!’ It’s a whisper. ‘I want you to...’

  ‘You want to come again,’ he teases, enjoying this.

  I fall back to the bed, my pulse racing. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you will, Asha. I’m going to make you come so many times you black out.’

  A smile curves my lips. ‘Is that a promise?’

  Somewhere after the fourth orgasm I feel like I could actually faint. Pleasure has crested through me and I have no idea how I’ll ever feel sane again. I’m living in some kind of euphoric world, all bliss and pleasure and hedonism.