The Billionaire's Desire

I’m ready to be me again…

I’m ready to meet Sanniyah Jones.

Chapter Seven

Sanniyah

"Oh!" I cry, my jaw dropping open in fright. I snap it shut quickly, but as I see him, it slowly falls open again as he approaches. He lopes casually across the deck, his strides soft and easy with an innate, athletic grace.

Carter Easton smiles at me and extends his hand. "You must be Ms. Jones," he says. The way he says my name, the way he tastes it on his tongue as it passes his teeth, sends a shiver down my spine that is wholly out of place in the warm sun.

"Mr. Easton," I smile, "Thank you so much for welcoming me to your lovely home." Professional poise takes hold of me, guiding me past my goosebumps and rapidly beating heart.

I've seen his picture, read the articles, "researched" him quite thoroughly. But none of that could prepare me for the sight of him up close. In all of the pages and pages of internet hits, there was no mention of the magnetism, the easy, quiet confidence that radiated off of him in waves. That was something I had to blushingly experience for myself, and the effect was quite disconcerting.

He's dressed in a white linen shirt, casually untucked, sleeves rolled to bare his toned, tanned forearms. The whiteness of the shirt is blinding, and the contrast with his skin makes his tan seem burnished and golden. There are streaks of sun in his dark blond hair and his eyes are the exact same shade of blue as the sea that surrounds us. I could drown in them just as easily.

Carefully, I wrap my fingers around the railing of the deck. I need something to hold on to. Otherwise I might float away. I've never had such a strong reaction to a white man, to any man, before.

He's wearing khakis, and my eyes wander down to see that he is barefoot. It's strangely personal, seeing him this way.

Like he is naked.

The thought makes my cheeks flame and I turn quickly to look out over the water. I wrack my brain for something safe to say, something that won't betray the lascivious direction my thoughts are turning. "Are you aware of how sexy you are? You look really good in those clothes, how about out of them? Can I see your bedroom...ceiling?"

"Can you see the mainland from here?" I ask instead.

Carter moves closer to me, putting his hand lightly on my shoulder so that I turn as he points. "That's Kittatiny Hill, right there," he says, indicating the small swell on the horizon. "That's all you can see on a day like today. Suits me just fine, honestly."

"Does it?" I've learned that when I feel off balance, it's best to redirect the conversation to the other person. It buys me time, plus people like talking about themselves.

"It doesn't suit you?" He turns and looks at me with those blue, blue eyes and I am forced to look away. Carter is not playing by the rules. He's not supposed to be asking questions in return.

"I wouldn't know either way," I laugh. "This is the first time I've ever been on a private island."

"Well then," he says lightly, "let me show you around."

He puts his hand at my elbow, a little guiding hand, nothing more, but his touch makes me jump like he grazed me with a live wire. I dart forward, out of his reach and summon my professional cool. "I will need to see the layout of the space," I tell him as I cross the deck. "How many guests can you accommodate? Are you expecting them to provide their own transport? How far is it to come via boat? Perhaps we could arrange a ferry the day of, do you have a port anywhere?"

I take a breath, waiting for him to respond. It isn't until a moment goes by without an answer by that I realize he is no longer at my side.

I turn.

Carter is still back at the railing. He is looking out over the water, a far away look in his eyes. There is peace there, but also an incredible sadness. The kind of sadness that makes me take an inadvertent step forward. Like I can comfort him somehow.

He turns a little, affording me a glimpse of his strong profile. It's a profile I recognize from my "research," but he even more gorgeous in person, model perfect with a kind of coolness about him that almost seems studied. Like he takes lessons on how to be laid back.

The sadness leaves his eyes, making me wonder if I imagined it. "Slow down," he says. There is still that ease in his voice, but authority too. Like he is used to giving orders. "Take it easy, okay?"

I stammer for a moment. He's not taking this seriously at all.

"Check it out," he grins. "Dolphins. See that fin?"

He's not answering me and he doesn't seem in the mood to talk business. Reluctantly, I step back to him. He takes my elbow again, steering me so that I am looking out over the glinting water.

A dorsal fin breaks the surface. Then another. Then another. I feel my face stretching into a grin in spite of myself. "Wow," I breathe.

Carter looks at me, his wide grin showing perfect white teeth. But the delight on his face isn't studied at all. "They swing by here around this time of year. I was afraid I was going to miss them."

I look back out. The fins are receding, disappearing around the curve of the island. When they finally slip completely from view, I dare sneak a look back at Carter.

"I need to show you something," he says.

"Okay," I say, clenching my teeth a little.

"Give me your hand, these stairs can be a little slippery," he says.

When his hand slips into mine, all the plans, all the questions I have for him leave my brain in a rush. I have no other thoughts but how his skin feels; warm and dry, a slight, unexpected callous, his fingers strong and supple in mine as he leads me down the steps to the beach.

I stop short. I am in heels, but Carter seems to have thought of that already. "Lift your foot," he says in that easy, authoritative voice.

Chapter Eight

Carter

She's even better up close.

Sanniyah is studying her surroundings like she has everything already figured out, her chin lifted to show off the graceful swoop of her neck. In the waning light of sunset, I first assumed her perfect skin was a smooth shade of caramel, but as I move closer, I can see the different colors under the surface; the ebonies, the siennas, the dark chocolates. I am staring at her, I can feel it. I have to look away.

She doesn't know how hard this is for me. She can't possibly know that the very act of allowing someone I don't know into my sanctuary is tearing me apart internally. It's not her fault that she is gorgeous and unnerving and I am already so on edge I feel like I might snap at any moment. So I keep conversation to a minimum, though it is clear she is unhappy with how I am avoiding talking about the wedding. She doesn't know that the just allowing her near me is the biggest step.

But she seems unnerved too. When I steel my resolve and make to touch her, she goes stiff and jumpy. I wonder if she can sense the damage inside of me. I wonder if she knows I am not right inside.

This bothers me.

"Come down here," I tell her. I am being too abrupt, ordering her around. I expect her to tell me to shove off, but instead she follows me, to my immense surprise. "I want to show you something."

She hesitates at the bottom step, wavering. "Oh, I got that," I say, reaching out to help her unbuckle her sexy, spindly heels. It's a problem I can easily solve, unlike my inability to handle a normal conversation.

She lifts her foot. The instant my hand circles her ankle, I feel it again. That bolt of possessiveness. That want. A fiery need I haven't felt in...forever perhaps?

I used to feel things. Hunger, drive. Ideas would come to me like bolts out of the blue. Inspiration would take hold of me and shake me like I am shaking right now. I am shaking so hard I can barely get her buckle undone.

My hand looks like it belongs there, wrapped possessively around her. Claiming her as my own. I know she is what I need. I know that she will make me whole again. I don't question it, just like I never questioned any of the ideas that led me to my incredible fortune. I just acted.

Her bare feet wiggle in the sand, and I feel another jolt. A different kind of jolt

.

This one goes straight a very different part of my anatomy...

She's standing on the half-buried last step, which means our eyes are level with each other. "I'm glad you're here, Sanniyah," I say. And I mean it.

She looks startled for a minute. I can see a million different expressions flash across her face until she finally settles on one.