Page 30 of From West, With Regret (NYC Billionaires #2)

NINETEEN

LONDON

I’m standing in West’s enormous bathroom wearing nothing but his sport coat.

I look down at myself, thinking I look like one of those models on the runway, dressed in men’s clothes fit and altered for a woman’s smaller frame.

I’m swimming in it, completely naked underneath.

The thought is exhilarating as I look around.

I bring my hands to my face and breathe in West’s scent buried in the sleeves: leather and mint.

I’ve lost all concept of time. It feels like Club Verona and the chaos we left behind after West beat the shit out of that creep was ages ago.

My body aches in the best way. I’m tired, but if West were to touch me the way he did earlier, I wouldn’t stop him.

After we finished in the car, I wrapped West’s sport coat around me, and he brought us up to his apartment.

From what I could see in the darkness, the building is a modest brick one.

But once I stepped inside his place, I gasped in awe at the vastness of something that seems so normal on the outside.

I’d barely had a chance to look around before West scooped me up and whisked us off to his bathroom .

The rushing sound of water fills the room now as water pours into the clawfoot tub in front of me.

Steam lifts from the surface, evaporating within seconds.

The entire bathroom is covered in wood and steel, with an exposed ceiling, large black pipes, and golden lights running from one side to the other.

There is lush, dark green cabinets with copper trim, as well as black slate tile flooring.

It’s warm and comforting yet luxurious at the same time.

It reminds me of The Veiled Door. And West.

Insanely wealthy but surrounded by warmth and… normalcy.

The complete opposite of the home I had with Heath.

I’m wiggling my toes against the heated tile when I feel West come up behind me. He turns off the water once it’s filled, then his tall, hard frame presses against my back, and a flurry of flutters rage in my stomach.

I’m grinning stupidly as he slips his hands around my waist, slowly undoing each button of my makeshift coat-dress.

His mouth hits the shell of my ear, and my legs immediately become Jell-O. “I have a truth to tell you.” He pops one button, then drifts his hands to the next.

I shiver, closing my eyes and resting my head back against his hard chest. I hum. “I love your truths.”

He smiles against my ear. “I like you in this better than that dress you were wearing.”

“You didn’t like the dress?”

He chuckles, and the heat from his breath makes my heart pound erratically. “Oh, that dress took my breath away. But this…” Another button pops free. “Seeing you in something that is mine, makes me feral for you.”

“Feral?” I laugh, unable to control the giggling coming from my chest. I cover my mouth, stifling my outburst.

West’s hand wraps around mine, pulling it down. Cold air hits my stomach as his fingers trail down my skin and over my belly button ring.

“I love your laugh. Don’t ever feel like you need to hold it back for me.”

West’s confession hits me hard. I love how his compliments spark what I thought were dormant nerves throughout my entire body.

With every praise and comment he makes, my chest crackles with electricity.

Heath hated my laugh. As far back as the day I woke up in the hospital, with no memory of my past, I was convinced I was born with a broken heart.

But West makes me feel like I’m not as broken as I thought I was.

He’s the glue filling in the creases and gaps now.

I spin in his arms as he slips his sport coat over my shoulders, so I’m standing in front of him completely exposed, though he doesn’t make a move to take me.

His eyes simply search my face.

I reach up and begin unbuttoning his shirt. My gaze falls to his neck, and I feel a twinge of disappointment.

“Where’s your necklace?” I ask, running my hand over his collarbone and chest where the silver chain usually rests.

“I never wear my jewelry when I bathe.”

“Oh.” I hold back my frown. I can’t explain the pull I have toward his necklace.

Once I have all his buttons free, I slip my hands over his chest, shoving his shirt off his torso.

My palms graze over the curves and ridges of his muscles, and I drag my nails over the black ink, taking in every tattoo.

Moving to his buckle, I remove his pants and black boxer briefs.

He steps out of them, never breaking eye contact.

“I was disappointed I didn’t get to see you in the car.” My attention dips to his body, but he lifts my chin back up with his fingers.

“You’ll have plenty of chances to see me.” He presses his lips to mine. Warm, soft lips send warmth down to my center. I’m sore from the assault West gave to the space between my legs. The bath will give it much needed relief, but I can’t help wanting West between them again.

I yelp when he breaks away and lifts me into his arms.

Water splashes over the top of the tub when he steps inside, his grin making me melt.

He sets me down into the water. The heat stings my skin, but it feels amazing.

I stand nearly knee-deep in the water when West sits down, sliding backward until his back hits the far end of the tub.

He reaches up and holds his hand out for me.

I take it, and he spins me around. Placing his hands on my hips, he pulls me down to sit in front of him, between his legs.

The water is now up to my shoulders as I lean against West’s chest. His erection presses into my back as I rest my head back on his chest. We sit like this for several moments before he grabs a washcloth draped over the edge of the tub.

He gestures for me to sit up as he submerges the cloth beneath the water.

I feel the absence of our skin-to-skin contact, but he’s quick to remedy that when he begins cleaning me, starting with my aching shoulders.

I run my hands over the surface of the water, like I did in the pool at Holt’s apartment.

I feel the swelling, pounding ache between my legs evaporate, and I moan, letting West know what he’s doing is soothing not only my body, but my soul.

Then I crack my eyes open and look around his bathroom again.

“Your apartment isn’t what I was expecting. Then again, it is.”

West chuckles. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” I smile, raising my legs to bring my knees to my chest.

West runs the washcloth over my back, following his path with his hand, like he doesn’t want to stop touching me for a single second.

“I just meant that it’s like when we first met. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a billionaire… or to be living in Brooklyn.”

“Why?” I imagine his brows pulling together over his stunning blue eyes. “Holt lives in Brooklyn.”

“You’re right. But he lives in a different area, and you aren’t Holt.”

“True.” He laughs under his breath.

“So, why Brooklyn?”

“I was drawn to the old charm of it, I guess. Sort of reminds me of where I came from.”

“It does have a certain charm that’s missing in Manhattan, doesn’t it?”

I rest my cheek on my knee, staring at the forest-green-painted wall. “You have all these nice, expensive things, but they aren’t obvious. You don’t really see them until you look hard.”

“So, what you’re saying is, I’m hiding in plain sight?”

“Sort of,” I say softly. “You aren’t cold like you would expect form someone with your wealth.

” I’m hinting at Heath and we both know it.

West’s hand hesitates for a moment, but he’s quick to recover.

I clear my throat. “What I mean is that you’re warm and inviting.

You make people feel comfortable and safe, like you could be anyone’s friend. ”

West’s hand dips beneath the water as he runs the washcloth over my lower back.

“But still not take anyone’s shit,” I add, lifting my head and glancing over my shoulder with a smirk.

West smiles back, a close-lipped one, though there’s a sadness in his eyes I can’t pin down. Like the topic of our conversation is somehow heavier than either of us were expecting .

“Do you remember much about your life before you were adopted by the Halls?” I ask.

West doesn’t immediately answer me. I’ve never asked him questions about his past. The only bit of information I do have is from what little bits he’s been willing to give me.

“I do.”

I turn back to look straight ahead again, catching our reflection in the full-length, mahogany-framed mirror propped against the wall. I watch West through the reflection. His eyes meet mine, but his hands continue to run over my body.

“From the day I was born, my mother wasn’t stable.

She’d float in and out of prison and jail.

She’d be arrested for all sorts of things: drugs, evading police, domestic disputes with my father.

Nothing was off limits for her, but she refused to give me up, despite every reason she had to.

Until I was three, I was constantly bounced between my mom, my grandmother, and my father.

Then when I turned four, everything changed. ”

I hold my breath, listening to West share his dark past with me. Something tells me this isn’t a story he’s shared more than a handful of times, if that.

His blue eyes soften, staring blankly at my back.

“My grandmother suddenly died, and the next day, my mother was arrested for drug distribution. My father wasn’t addicted to drugs the same way my mother was, but he couldn’t hold down a stable job.

He could barely afford to pay for his own shitty apartment or to feed himself.

So, he surrendered me to Child Protective Services, and I was placed into foster care. ”

A tingly sensation slithers down my spine, following West’s finger.