Page 31 of One Night in Glasgow (The Scottish Billionaires #15)

CHAPTER TWENTY

SEAN

I’d been sitting for an eternity, staring at my laptop screen, the words blurring as my mind wandered to last night’s dinner with Beth.

The hotel suite’s living room was quiet, but my thoughts were loud as hell. The document I’d been trying to edit for the past hour might as well have been written in Sanskrit for all the attention I was giving it.

“Hey asshole, you’re alive?” Danny’s voice yanked me back to reality. “You’ve been zoned out at that damn window like some love-sick teen mooning over his first crush.”

I jerked back to reality. “Just got lost thinking for a minute,” I muttered.

“Well, think about Philadelphia instead. We’re leaving for that leadership conference early tomorrow, remember? Unless you’re planning to motivate people through telepathy now.”

“I know,” I muttered. The timing couldn’t be worse.

That damn Philadelphia conference. Almost an entire week I would be gone, and of course, including the exact weekend of the Hillsdale Foundation gala.

Beth had been so excited last night, when she asked me to be her date, her eyes lighting up as she described the event.

Like an idiot, I’d immediately said yes without thinking.

It wasn’t until later that night, back here, I realized the conflict.

I still hadn’t told her I couldn’t make it.

Here I was, leaving town right after that weird-ass flower delivery to Beth’s apartment. My stomach twisted at the thought.

The image of those roses popped into my mind again. Two dozen perfectly arranged red blooms, delivered right to Beth’s door. The card’s message replayed in my head: “Your beauty puts these roses to shame. They pale in comparison to your radiance.” What kind of pretentious bullshit was that?

These past days with Beth have been incredible, though.

But how long could this last? Reality was starting to creep in around the edges of our bubble.

My career was based in California. My speaking circuit covered the whole country.

I couldn’t stay in New York forever, no matter how much I wanted to.

When I’d jumped on that plane to find Beth, I hadn’t thought past the “finding her” part. Now what?

I pushed those thoughts aside. No point borrowing trouble from tomorrow when today was going so well.

“Hey,” I called out to Danny, standing up and stretching. “I’m heading out to meet Beth for dinner.”

Beth’s eyes sparkled in the candlelight as she sipped her wine, telling me about her day at the Hillsdale Foundation.

I tried to focus on her animated expression, but my mind kept replaying the image of those anonymous roses sitting in a water pitcher in her apartment. Who the hell sent them? And why?

The server appeared with our appetizers: calamari for Beth, bruschetta for me. The rich aroma of garlic and tomatoes filled the air between us.

I figured I’d do some detective work, slip in a few innocent questions. “So, how’s the gala planning coming along?” I asked casually, watching her reaction. “Getting more involved since yesterday?”

Beth’s face lit up, a look of genuine pride on her features that made my chest tighten.

“Actually, yes! It’s been a complete turnaround.

I think my talk with Garrett yesterday really cleared the air.

” She popped a piece of calamari into her mouth.

“I was firm, set a professional boundary, and he seems to have respected it. Today was completely different.”

I forced a supportive smile onto my face. “That’s fantastic, Beth. See? You taking charge made a difference.”

She squeezed my fingers gratefully. “Thank you for saying that. It just feels good to finally be doing something that matters, you know?”

“I do,” I said, my mind racing. This guy was more dangerous than I thought. He was patient. I decided to probe a little further, to see just how deep the hooks were. “So the one-on-one meetings with him are still the main way he’s getting you involved?”

“For now,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. “He said he needs to get me up to speed on the strategy before he officially adds me to the big committee meetings next week. After our talk yesterday, I feel like I have a much better handle on him. It’s strictly professional now.”

Strictly professional. Famous last words, I thought, the bitterness rising in my throat.

She thought she had a handle on him, when in reality, he was maneuvering her exactly where he wanted her: dependent on him for her career advancement and feeling isolated from the main group, with him as her sole point of contact.

He was positioning himself as the gatekeeper to her success. The son of a bitch was smart.

But I looked at the hope in her eyes, the genuine excitement she felt about proving herself. I couldn’t be the one to crush that. Not now. I had to play the long game.

I forced another smile and changed the subject. “Well, I’m proud of you. Now, tell me more about these corporate sponsors…”

No point letting that manipulative bastard ruin our evening.

But as we finished dinner and headed back to my hotel, my mind kept circling back to those roses.

There was no longer any doubt in my mind who had sent them.

Garrett wasn’t just trying to get in her pants.

He was trying to get in her head. And that was a much more dangerous game.

In my bedroom, Beth’s lips found mine, and all thoughts of Garrett temporarily vanished.

Her hands slid under my shirt; her fingers cool against my heated skin as I backed her toward the bed.

The air between us crackled, thick with unspoken need, and I couldn’t get her close enough fast enough.

Her kiss was hungry, a tangle of tongues and soft gasps, and it set my blood on fire.

I pulled back to look at her, her hazel eyes dark with want, her cheeks flushed.

My hands found the hem of her dress, a slinky little black thing that had been driving me crazy all night, and I tugged it upward, slowly at first, savoring the way the fabric clung to her curves.

She raised her arms, letting me peel it off her, and I tossed it aside, leaving her in nothing but a lacy black bra and matching panties.

Jesus , she was stunning with her soft skin, full breasts spilling over the edges of the lace, and those long legs I’d dreamed about wrapped around me.

I eased her down onto the bed; the mattress dipping under her weight, and she stretched out beneath me, her hair fanning across the sheets like a halo.

I yanked my shirt over my head, not bothering with finesse, and kicked off my shoes.

My jeans followed, hitting the floor with a muffled thud, and I was left in my boxers, my cock already straining against the fabric.

I climbed onto the bed, settling over her, and captured her mouth again.

She tasted like wine and something sweeter, something uniquely Beth, and I couldn’t get enough.

Her hands explored every inch of my back, her nails leaving trails that sent electric shivers across my skin.

God, even that gentle touch was enough to make my breath fuckin’ catch in my throat.

I broke the kiss and trailed my lips along her jaw, down her neck.

Her pulse hammered under my tongue, and she tilted her head back, giving me more access.

I sucked gently at the hollow of her throat, then moved lower, kissing the swell of her breasts above her bra.

I reached behind her, fumbling with the clasp for a second before it gave way, and I slid the straps off her shoulders.

Her nipples were already hard, pink and perfect, and I took one into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it.

Beth arched beneath me, a soft moan escaping her lips, her hips shifting restlessly against the sheets.

I teased the other with my fingers, rolling it gently, and she grabbed my hair, pulling me closer.

“Sean,” she breathed, her voice a mix of plea and demand, and it lit me up inside.

I kissed my way down her stomach, feeling her muscles quiver under my lips.

Her skin was warm, smooth, and I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her thighs.

She kicked them off, and I settled between her legs, parting them with my hands.

She was glistening, wet and ready, and the sight of her, bare and open for me, made my cock rock hard.

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh first, teasing her, then dragged my tongue along her slit, slow and deliberate.

She gasped, her hips bucking slightly, and I gripped her thighs to hold her steady.

I found her clit with my tongue, circling it, tasting her, and slid a finger inside her, then another.

She was slick, and her walls clenched around me as I worked her, my tongue flicking faster.

Her moans grew louder, breathy and desperate, her fingers digging into the sheets.

“Oh God, Sean… don’t stop,” she panted, and I didn’t.

I curled my fingers, hitting that spot inside her, and she shattered, her body convulsing as she cried out, loud and unrestrained.

Her thighs trembled around my head, and I kept going, drawing out every shudder until she went limp, gasping for air.

I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and looked up at her.

Her chest heaved, her eyes half-lidded, and she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

My cock throbbed like a jackhammer, aching to be buried inside her.

The need clawed at me, raw and demanding.

I couldn’t hold back another damn second.

I shed my boxers in one quick motion and climbed over her, positioning myself between her legs.

I rubbed the tip against her, slick and hot, and she whimpered, lifting her hips to meet me.

“Please,” she whispered, and that was all I needed.

I pushed in, slowly at first, feeling her stretch around me, and then thrust deeper, burying myself to the hilt.

She was so tight, so perfect, and I groaned, my head dropping to her shoulder.

I started moving, pulling back and driving in again, setting a rhythm that had her moaning beneath me.

Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, and her nails raked down my back, sharp little stings that only fueled me more.

“Fuck, Beth,” I growled, my hips snapping harder, faster.

She matched me, rocking up to meet every thrust, her breaths coming in short, needy gasps.

“Sean… oh God, I’m—” Her words cut off as she clenched around me, her second orgasm hitting hard.

Her body arched, a keening cry spilling from her lips, and the sound, the feel of her coming undone, pushed me over the edge.

I thrust deep one last time, spilling inside her with a low, ragged groan, my vision blurring as pleasure crashed through me.

We stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard.

Then I rolled off her, collapsing onto the bed beside her, my chest still heaving.

I pulled her close, tucking her against my side, her head resting on my shoulder.

Her skin was damp with sweat, her body soft and pliant, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You okay?” I murmured, my voice rough.

“More than okay,” she said, her lips curving into a sleepy, satisfied smile.

She snuggled closer, her arm draping across my chest, and I wrapped mine around her, holding her close.

But as her breathing slowed, a weight settled in my gut.

I’d been putting off telling her something all night, dreading it, really, because I didn’t want to ruin this.

Now, with her drowsy and content in my arms, I knew I couldn’t let her fall asleep without saying it.

“Beth,” I started, my voice low, reluctant.

She stirred, tilting her head to look at me, her eyes still hazy.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you… I can’t make the gala.

I totally forgot about the Philadelphia conference…

it’s unavoidable.” I swallowed hard, hating the words as they came out.

“I feel like shit about it. I wanted to be there, to support you, to see everything you’ve worked so hard for finally happen.

I’ve been dreading telling you all night. ”

Her face shifted, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features, her lips parting slightly, her brow creasing, before she smoothed it away.

“Oh,” she said, her tone light, too light.

“It’s fine, Sean. Really. Don’t worry about it.

” She forced a smile, but I saw it in her eyes, the way they dulled for a split second before she masked it.

She was hurt, and she was trying like hell to hide it from me.

I could see right through her brave face, though—that flash of pain in her eyes might as well have been a neon sign.

I hated that I was letting her down. And worse, a thought gnawed at me: Garrett’s gonna be there, playing Mr. Fucking Perfect at the gala, while I’m stuck miles away with my thumb up my ass.