The Billionaire's Secret

"Oh my god, Liam," I cried. He was everywhere. Fingers, tongues, mouth, lips, every sensation a spark that added to the blaze that was burning up inside of me, threatening to consume me whole. I felt the shiver, the pause in the air while everything hung at the edge.

And then the explosion.

With a sharp, guttural cry, I surged upward and then collapsed back. He was right there, ready to catch me before I plummeted off of the counter and he held me tightly while I shuddered and quivered around his finger.

As my breathing slowed and I dissolved against his chest, he pressed a kiss to my temple. I could hear his ragged breathing, feel the rock hard press of his need, but he only held me close until the last aftershock died away.

He pulled back. "That's how good it can be," he said, slipping his finger out of me and trailing it up my stomach. I shivered, still unable to form words.

With his other hand, he cupped my breast and gently squeezed. "This is for me," he teased, squeezing twice more.

"That was...," I was still trying to find my powers of speech again. I failed. "Pretty good," I finally gasped. Little shockwaves were still traveling up my spine and I wanted to lie down.

"Tough customer," he chucked darkly.

"Umm," I moaned. "Satisfied customer."

If I hadn't already had an orgasm, the sexy, cocky grin he smiled just then would have brought me right to the brink. No one had any right to be this handsome, it was absurd.

But here he was. He existed and his fingers smelled like me. It was all too much.

"Liam," I looked up at him. "What does this mean?"

He cocked his head. "Mean? There's no deep meaning here, Shay. I wanted you. I've been wanting you. I still want you."

I lay back in his arms a little, letting him cradle me. "I want you too. You'll tell me the truth, the whole truth, from now on?"

His face darkened. "If you want the whole truth, I'll tell it to you."

"Thank you," I swallowed.

"You're sure you want it?"

I looked up at him sharply. "Yes, of course I do."

"So ask me," he said. "If you have a question, then just, please, do me the courtesy of asking me instead of running off or slinging insults. I promise I will give you an answer."

I swallowed again. The veiled threat - that I may not like the answer - hung in the air. But he had promised. "Why did you leave Longwood?"

He looked at me, anger making his eyes snap. "You already know this."

I pressed my lips together. "Because Lily called."

"Yes."

"That's your answer?" I slid off the counter onto my jelly legs.

"What more do you want?"

"Something, Liam. Give me something."

"Okay, you want the truth? I'm telling it to you. Right now," he thundered. "Whether you believe me or now, you're it for me Shay. The only one I want. But if Lily ever calls and needs help, I'll go to her. That's just how it has to be." He spun and started pacing like a caged wildcat. "That doesn't mean I'm fucking her or in love with her or whatever deep meaning you want to attach to it. It's just my reality. Something I have to do."

I clenched my fists. The afterglow of what he had just done to me was still sounding through my body and now he was telling me he would go to her? Over me? And that was that?

"Okay," I told him evenly. "If you're not fucking her," I grabbed my pants off the floor, feeling ridiculous. I was still soaked with his love. I couldn't believe we were having this argument now. "Then I want to meet her." It sounded completely reasonable to me. "Clearly she's someone special to you. Then she should be special to me."

His eyebrows slammed together. "No."

I felt a little explosion of rage in my right temple. "Why not?"

"You can't. It's not a good time. For her."

His fingers still smell like me, and he's telling me this? I couldn't believe his nerve. I crossed my arms. "Then we have nothing here."

He stood back and paced the floor for a second. "Shay, this isn't about hiding her from you. You're strong, you can handle truth. You've made that amply clear." He looked up at me, imploringly. "She can't."

"You're more worried about her feelings than mine...."

"Yes."

There was no arguing. He was immovable. Whatever she was, he wanted to protect her...from me.

"Just tell me one more thing," I demanded.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "What?" he said, hanging his head.

"Is Lily the one you bought the flowers for?"

His mouth worked. He wanted to lie. I could tell. But he didn't. "Yes," he whispered, his voice ragged and exhausted. "Yes, they were for her." He looked up. "And she thought they were beautiful."

Chapter Sixteen

Kiki stared at the bouquet. I could tell she was impressed, but was pretending not to be. For my sake.

"Maybe Lily is his dog?" she ventured hopefully.

The towering arrangement had arrived at Jasmine's, right as I got home from work. Jasmine looked at the delivery guy sidelong. "Well I know for a fact those aren't for me. Shay!"

I unwound my scarf and hung it on the hook. "What the hell?"

She eyed me. "What did he do?"

I sighed. I hadn't told her about what happened at the shop last night. I had gone home, too angry at myself to risk seeing anyone, and locked myself in the guest room, pretending I needed to sleep. I had actually managed to get through today with a smile on my face, in spite of how badly I wanted to put my fist through a wall. I had almost made it too.

Then he sent me...this.

The riot of flowers seemed almost haphazard. Whoever the florist was had a really loose hand. The arrangement was jumbled...almost rushed. The flowers were thrown together without regard to harmony or balance.

Then I had looked at it harder and saw what flowers he included. That's what made me clamp my mouth shut and turn bright red.

"Here we go," Jazzy muttered. "I'm calling Kiki. You need a come-to-Jesus talk here."

"Maybe you're right," I said softly, staring at the bouquet.

Purple hyacinth was the main flower, but each bloom was surrounded with white chrysanthemums. Reaching through the purple and white, though, were the sharp spikes of pine branches and at the top, one lone red tulip like an afterthought.

By the time we wrestled the arrangement into the kitchen and trimmed and watered it, Kiki walked in the

open front door, breathless and wide-eyed.

"It's..." she didn't say beautiful. "What'd he do?"

I blinked at her. The reason he sent me flowers was evident. But it was what he was saying with the flowers.

"It's an apology," I said. "Purple hyacinth means apology, though I have no idea how he tracked those down in the dead of winter. That must have cost a pretty penny." Not that he would have to worry about that.