Page 29 of Untouchable Billionaire (The Hardcore Novels: Special Editions #1)

* * *

Aurei

* * *

Damn, this woman does it for me. She is so stunningly beautiful and sassy too. Her teasing eyes flirt as she spins her glass around, reminding me of how hot her licking the white milk off it was and how my cock wants her licking my cum off her lips.

"Mmmhmm." She glances down at her glass.

"So, what are you doing this weekend?"

"Nothing. Why?" Her face tilts up, and her eyes dance, and everything inside me feels alive when she looks at me that way.

"I was hoping we could share the wine one day."

"That would be nice. I would like that." The mischievous look in her eyes intensifies the feelings inside as she bats her eyelashes.

"Listen, I hate to, but I have to go."

She smiles, satisfied she's teased me enough for one day, and her reaction makes my voice firmer than I intend. "Finish your milk."

She grins and obediently picks the glass up to drain it, but she decides to make a toast first. She lifts it and waits for me to raise mine. "Here's to … Moore."

Sweet! I smile at her as I clink her glass with mine. "Here's to … Wright."

Her eyes twinkle into mine as we finish off the milk. As soon as she sets her glass down, I scoop it up and quickly wash it. Then I take the empty basket and head with her to the door.

As we walk down to the elevator, I ask, wanting to see if she will be honest with me. "So, where's the 'no' you are from?"

She tips her head confused, so I clarify. "Where does the complicated dancer live?"

"Oh," she smiles, then looks down, thinking. "Vegas." She answers truthfully, cutting her eyes to catch my reaction.

"Awesome. Vegas is one of my favorite places in the world." I assure her.

"I don't usually tell folks from here that. Not because I am ashamed, because I'm not. I love my life. But because they can't handle it. You know, Sin City. To them, Vegas is the capital of Hell." She shakes her head, then looks me in the eyes.

Her look is so open, honest, and direct. She touches something deep inside me.

"It is really rather sad to me. I pity them as much as they pray for me. I'm the one who doesn't judge others. I'm the one who actually loves everyone, no matter who they are or where they come from. I'm the one who values honesty above lies. But in their eyes, I'm the one going straight to Hell."

Her answer stuns me, and I half turn to look at this unique person walking beside me. Before I think about it, I share my thoughts with her. "You are an interesting find."

She smirks and half turns to me too. "Now, how sad is that? Honesty is interesting. No, even worse, honesty is a find?" She bumps into me playfully as we walk, and the intimate playfulness jars that deep spot inside me again.

She's so real. She doesn't wrap herself in fake pretenses. The urge to pin her against the wall and kiss her until she wants me as much as I want her enters my mind for a fleeting moment, but then it flees in the face of my guilty conscience. She thinks she's as big a stranger to me as I am to her.

"So, where is the 'no' you are from?" She asks me, expecting me to be as open and forthcoming as she was.

I realize if we are going to have a future together, I have to be completely honest with her about my life and hope that when the time is right, and I do confess my deception, she has fallen so deeply in love with me that she will forgive me.

I lower the facade most people see and answer. "I grew up as an Army brat, and now I'm an Army aviator. I fly Apache's. I've lived in Live Oak the longest, so I call it home, but I have family in Italy too, and I bounce back and forth from here to there."

"I've always wanted to go to Italy, particularly Rome. I love architecture and the arts." She says as we reach the elevator.

At the mention of Rome, I prepare to share with her, but then her sincerity stares at me as she says, "Thank you for your service."

Her eyes pierce my hardcore. She isn't saying it because it's the accepted response to say to those who have volunteered to serve and protect our country and our freedom.

She says it because she means it, and it humbles me in a new way.

Staring into her sincerity with these intense feelings for her, while harsh memories from the wars and the battles I engaged in flash across my mind, gives me an appreciation for my service on a whole other level.

And as the door of my heart swings open, I tell her the truth. "You're worth it."

My answer stuns her, and for a moment, we stare at each other, connecting on a spiritual level. Something I have never done with any other woman. Then she smiles softly and says, "You are also an interesting find, Mr. Moore."

I smirk, and she asks, "Did you serve in Afghanistan or Iraq?"

I reach over and push the down button as I answer, "Both.

" Then knowing my time today with her is coming to an end, I turn around and hold the basket out.

She reaches for it, and when she pulls it toward her, I use her momentum to invade her space.

Then, needing to feel her against me, I lean down to whisper in her ear. "Thanks for the cookies."

Her breath pauses as I dominate her, then she whispers back, staring at me. "You're welcome."

I drink in her light green eyes, framed by dark, thick lashes, and tease her. "I enjoyed watching you enjoy them."

Her eyes twinkle, and I feel the thrill of them in my heart. "I enjoyed watching you … enjoy watching me … enjoy them."

I chuckle. She's sharp. This one. "Did you bake them yourself?" I ask, not caring, just wanting to stay in the moment.

"Ha, no! I can't cook." She laughs, easing the sexual tension building between us. Then she confesses, "Compliments of the bakery in Publix."

I hold my position and her eyes. "Your honesty is refreshing, you know."

She drops her eyes from my intensity. Then she looks up from under those thick lashes. "So I've been told."

The elevator arrives with a ding, and my time is up. I lean close, inhaling her scent, and whisper the truth. "I will be dreaming of the way you eat cookies for the rest of my life, and I can't wait to see what you will do with the wine."

Then I back into the elevator holding her eyes captive, and she says, "I can't wait to show you."

My cock hardens with the promise, and I blindly push the lobby button. As the doors close, I state the truth. "You are more than I dreamed of."

Her pleased expression sends a spark of pleasure through me, and in the last shrinking span, I show my Italian side. "Ciao, Bella."

* * *

Siri

* * *

Trying not to swoon with his words, I hold my breath as the elevator doors touch. Then I sprint to my apartment, fling the basket on the counter, and rush out onto the balcony. Bracing on the rail, I lean over it, waiting for Mr. Moore to come out.

As soon as he exits the building, he turns to look at my apartment, and I wave.

He grins, pleased, and throws his hand up.

Then the Golden God stud walks with his perfect posture and strong gait to his truck.

When he pulls the door open, he gives me another wave, then he gets in, closes the door, and cranks the engine.

As his truck backs out, I wave again. I want Moore!

Watching his truck disappear down the private drive to the highway, I know he has stirred the monster inside, and I will never be the same.

Wednesday morning, I wake from dreams of Moore in Vegas. I kept seeing his face scattered in the crowds, and I wonder how I would have reacted to his chemistry if I had met him there first.

I do my stretches and handstand ritual before going into the kitchen to wait for the coffee to finish brewing.

Pouring my cup of Joe into my blue heart souvenir mug with Surreal's autograph, I salute how fortunate I am.

My Vegas career has given me riches beyond what I could ever have earned as an Accountant, and I get to do what I love.

I take my coffee onto the balcony to enjoy the Dogwood trees and Azalea bushes in full bloom, and as I blow on the hot coffee before taking a long sip, I lean against the side rail of the balcony and stare over the jogging trail.

When Moore said I am more than he dreamed of, I wonder if he meant he had actually dreamt of me that night or if he meant I was more than the ideal girl he dreams about.

W hat difference does it make? They were beautiful words.

I have to devise another opportunity to see him before he leaves to fly tonight. I know, I will run after work. I need to blow off some steam. I don't need to be so horny I lose control of my monster.

"Oh, Holy Hades, there he is." I stare at his half-naked perfection. The sun is glistening off his highlights and the sweat on his body. He is wearing only a pair of red running shorts. His pecs are bouncing gently with each jog. He moves like a well-oiled machine, definitely an athlete.

When he hits the sidewalk, he walks around for his cool down. Even this far away, the dramatic distance between his broad shoulders is mouth-watering. He's not bulked up like a bodybuilder, but he could compete. I take a sip of coffee, gawking at the Golden God.

He glances up to my balcony and, seeing me, throws his hand up. I freeze like I'm caught spying on him, then I wave back, but I missed the moment. He isn't looking at me now.

A couple of girls jogging by have stopped to chat him up. I see them pointing to the laundry mat and the clubhouse. They are obviously making sure he knows where to find them.

He excuses himself, walks a couple of steps toward the front door, then looks up at me again. This time, I wave, and he sees me. He waves back, then continues to the door. The girls who watched his ass as he walked off, look up to see me too.

I smile down on them. That's right, bitches. He's got his eyes on me. I turn, tossing my platinum blonde mane with stripper flare, and go back inside.

I walk into the kitchen and stare at the front door.

If I open it, I can catch him before work, but his half-naked, hot, sweaty body may be more than I can resist. If there is one thing I know about sex, it's that timing is everything. And foreplay is important. For some, it's crucial.

No, I won't rush this. I've waited too long, and I must make sure he's worth it, and he's committed to it.

Go. Get a cold shower, girl, and get to work. You can dream about Mr. Sexy all day and 'bump' into him this evening.

* * *

Aurei

* * *

Fuck! That was a close call! I would never have imagined eating cookies would be such a fucking turn-on, but … goddamn! Everything about Seary is sexy.

I turn right out of the private drive and head to Fort Rucker.

Thank God! Tonight’s my last night flying.

As soon as she stood in the doorway with the basket of cookies and wine, her sweet southern personality beaming at me, then briefly disappointed that I was on my way out but determined to tease me regardless, I knew I couldn’t turn her away. But thank God, I had to leave.

I shake my head, shaking off the close call.

Damn her! She pushed me hard, nearly too far, and I almost lost control. All I could think of was snatching her up by her beautiful headful of hair, ripping her pants off, slamming her little dancer’s body down on the counter, and fucking her with every ounce of power I possess.

The expression she was wearing….

I wipe my hand down my face to clear away the stress.

That fucking expression was daring me to do it. She was as turned on as I was, and she wanted me to fuck her right there.

Jesus, that was a close call.

All I could think of was taking her right then. Right there. Not waiting until she willingly offered, but pounding her, ravaging her. Not a gentle slow fuck, but a hard, forceful fuck. The kind that if the other party isn’t 100% committed to … can be misinterpreted.

I have never forced myself on a woman, but I’m not always gentle, and I wouldn’t have been then. All I was thinking about was taming that tail and claiming her as mine.

Fucking hell! I shake my head again, this time admitting to myself that I want her to wear that ‘fuck me now’ expression when she looks at me from across the room full of people. I want her to look at me, knowing I have claimed her and knowing she is mine.

All my life, I’ve just fucked for fun. I’m not relationship material.

That’s why my call name is Hardcore. I’m cold, calculating, and brutally honest. Relationships aren’t my thing.

I’ve been cautious, mindful of the risk of exposure, but I have to share my secrets with Seary if I’m going to share my life with her.

Damn. My fucking life is complex, complicated, and full of secrets. How the hell am I going to do it without overwhelming her? She’s a stripper, for God’s sake.

But she’s smart, and talented, and sweet, and trusting.

Deceiving her about Vegas goes against my nature, but I can’t risk losing her by telling her the truth.

I have to go slow! I can’t rush this. She has to love me for me before I expose her to the other side of my life.

“And that means, Maximus Aurelius Moore,” I speak out loud in the cab of my truck, “you can’t fuck her yet.”

* * *

“Hard, wait up!” Jeremy calls as I walk across the parking lot.

I turn around, waiting for him to catch up.

“So, you’re leaving us?”

“Affirmative.”

He offers his hand. “You’ll be missed.”

I shift my helmet and my flight bag to my other hand to shake it. “Thanks, man.”

“You got any plans around 5:00? I need a favor.”

I laugh, “AM or PM?”

He laughs too. “PM.”

“What ‘cha need?”

“I need a body for B-ball. We’re playing for a spot in the post playoffs, but Larry’s wife went into labor a little while ago, so he’s out. Can you fill in?”

“Sure.” I smile, knowing I will successfully keep my hands off my sexy stripper one more night.

“Thanks, bro.” He pats me on the back. “Are you any good?”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Excellent!” He nods, then says as he backs away. “Wear a white teeshirt with your name stenciled on it and blue shorts.”

When I pull into the parking lot of Dogwood Court, the sun is just coming up.

There’s an empty spot next to Seary’s car.

I smirk. She drives an expensive, custom-detailed sports car that will fucking fly down the road.

It’s not a car you buy off the lot of a dealership.

It’s a special order, which means not only does she have money, but she has good taste.

If she ordered it for herself, it shows she values worth and enjoys the nicer things in life, but she’s not flashy.

She didn’t pick a Porsche. She chose a fast car which tells me she likes pushing the limits.

I smile. I like pushing the limits too.

Before I get out, I set the alarm to wake at 2:00. Since I didn’t pack a stenciled teeshirt, I’ll have to drive back to the farm and grab one. Then get back here before she gets home from work so I can casually meet her in the lobby before heading to play basketball with the boys.