His Dirty Promises (Dirty Billionaires 2)

The question doesn’t bother me. Interesting, usually I loathe when any woman questions me about my parents. “Yes, a session a week for a year. Which is exactly why I won’t do it again. It was bullshit. How do I feel? Why do I feel it?”

“You can’t just try it once. Finding a therapist is like finding a regular doctor. You two have to click. It always takes me three or four tries to find a doctor I like.”

“Why?”

“Man, guys have it so easy for you to even ask. Because some doctors are know-it-alls who won’t listen to what I have to say, while others act like everything wrong with me is because I’m fat. Allergies—lose weight; ear infection—lose weight. One doctor I went to, I swear to god she acted as if my weight was offensive to her. I went in for bronchitis and left with pamphlets for bariatric surgery.”

What? I jackknife up off the bed. “Are you serious? That is complete bullshit. You’re sexy as fuck. Don’t fucking listen to that shit. Don’t lose a fucking ounce.” Fuck, I realize what I said. Only I don’t regret it, wouldn’t take the words back even if I could.

Bethany is quiet for a long minute, then she laughs. “God, you are bossy. I was heavier at the time. Over the last year and a half I’ve lost almost thirty pounds because of all the healthy food Jessica made for me and made sure was in my apartment. As a health professional I knew when too much was too much. Which is why I knew what they were saying was bullshit. I am happier with the weight I lost though. Now I’m going to focus on maintaining, not like it’s any of your business if I lose another twenty pounds.”

“I’m a man who knows what he likes and prefers natural curves to artificially created ones. If you want to lose more weight, do what makes you happy. I just think it would be a fucking shame when you’re perfect the way you are now.” Christ, my cock is hard all over again as I remember her breasts swaying with her shuddering breath. “And now before I say something really stupid, I’d better say goodnight.”

Her breath catches in my ear. “I don’t think anything you said was stupid, unless you regret saying it.”

My cock is leaking. I roll over, not daring to touch myself. “Fuck no. I don’t regret a thing.”

She giggles. “Neither do I. Okay, so now to start, where are you and what are you doing right now?”

Fuck, talk about a loaded question. “Why?”

“Because, you have to be somewhere quiet and relaxed when you’re doing therapy. Since you won’t go to therapy, I’ll be your therapist. So where are you?”

This woman is going to be the death of me. “I’m in bed.”

“Ah.” She lowers her voice seductively. “What are you wearing?” Then she giggles, damn it. How the hell is a giggle sexy?

The brat deserves it. “Not a damn thing.” She gasps. “Yet another damn reason I need to stop while I still can.”

“You do regret saying it.” Her voice is filled with doubt.

“Bethany.” It comes out of me in a groan I can’t control. “You’re gorgeous. Your body is sexy as fuck, you’re an invitation to sin in the best damn way. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Not saying it would be the sin, for you to have any doubt about your appeal. Only it’s all I can say, anything else would be wrong. Goodnight.”

I don’t trust myself and end the call while I still can. Damn it, my cock is demanding attention again. I give in and recall Bethany’s breasts outlined against the tight, silky black camisole, the way her nipples tightened to fine points of need. With a groan I come, fighting for air. I’m so fucked.

***

Bethany

Holy freaking crap! Dante Sabatini, manwhore extraordinaire, thinks I’m sexy. I’ve been told I’m cute, I’ve been called adorable. I don’t want to be cute—cute is for puppies and kittens. Dante thinks I’m sexy. He wants to fuck me. Me. I’ve seen the women he’s fucked—I might have spent a long weekend looking up all the Sabatini brothers when I found out my sister was falling in love with one of them. All of them dated the kind of women found on magazine covers, women with one percent body fat, women who spend their days devoted to being beautiful and almost all of them paid well for it. And he wants me. A part of me wonders if he’s telling the truth, only his sincerity was clear as a bell. I heard the desire in his voice.

I can’t forget the way he looked at me this afternoon. My body is reacting all over again, remembering the sound of Dante’s voice in my ear, the deep rasp of desire. How his eyes roamed over me, how I wanted to know what his hands felt like on me, the taste of his mouth. Again and again my fingers swirl on my swollen clit as my other hand tugs on a tight nipple... oh god.

As I float down from my high, I turn over what he said. How exactly is it wrong? Okay, his manwhore status is a definite negative. But that’s me; how is it wrong for him? I’m confused.

4

Dante

I check my phone for the ninth time this morning. I’m flicking on my email, but it’s not what I’m looking at. No texts. Christ, I’m pathetic. She’s probably still asleep.

“Everything okay?” Claudine takes my plate and coffee cup, her eyes concerned.

“Yeah, fine. I invited Bethany to use my coffeemaker, in case she comes over.”

I’m up and out the door, texting my driver I’m heading down. My eyes are on the door to Che’s condo, wanting, needing to see her again. The moment my eyes opened I was thinking of her. I checked my phone, wondering if she sent another text or called me or hell, I don’t know.

For the first time in years I woke up before my alarm went off. Anticipation thrumming through me as I snatched up my phone, wondering if I dreamed my crazy response to the sight of her. Half a dozen times this morning I imagined taking her a cup of coffee. If it weren’t for Claudine here to see me act like an idiot, I’m pretty sure I would have.