Devoured--A Sexy Billionaire Romance Read online

  The hum of the engine at full throttle fills the cabin, and the second the plane levels off I settle back with my tablet, ready to do some reading and a bit of work on the long flight ahead of us. I blink at the stream of letters before me yet can’t quite seem to focus. I shift and lift my head when I can feel Peyton’s laser-sharp glare burning a hole in my forehead. Jesus, if this plane had an emergency eject seat, and she was near the button, I’d be catapulting through space—violently. Not that I blame her for hating me. It’s what I need from her.

  “What now?” I ask, and set my tablet on my lap, realizing just how tightly it was clenched in my hand. I stretch out my fingers to circulate my blood and brace myself for impact when Peyton uncurls her fingers from her magazine and sets it aside with a calmness that belies the fire in her eyes.

  Never one to disappoint, she glares at me and asks, “Why are you doing this, anyway?” Her gaze narrows, like a bird of prey ready to move in for the kill. A burst of icy air from the overhead vent rustles her long curls and does little to cool the heat building inside me.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, desperate to keep this about business. “Would you like a drink?” I ask, needing one, two or maybe even ten before she begins her interrogation again.

  “No, well, yes.” She flips her palm over, a gesture I’ve gotten used to over the years. “But I want answers first.” Her tenaciousness is something I’ve gotten used to as well. I can’t say that I dislike her determination and conviction. She has a resolve few do and won’t stop until she’s satisfied.

  Shit, don’t think about all the ways you can satisfy her, Roman.

  Dammit, I’m thinking about it.

  “We’ve been over this, Peyton. I told you last night, numerous times. I’m helping out a friend. My best friend. End of story. I’m not sure what else you think this is.”

  “I know you and Cason go way back, but this...this is going above and beyond friendship, in my book.”

  “Not in mine.”

  “All right then,” she says, and I prepare for a change in tactics. “But agreeing to this whole charade after...” She arches a brow without elaborating. Not that she needs to. We both know she’s talking about the kiss I never should have initiated—then stalked off like a complete asshole afterward. The heated memory burns brightly in my brain and continues to taunt my dick.

  I’ll never forget that warm summer night in the Hamptons during a friend’s wedding. I could have easily taken her upstairs to my hotel room, where we would have done depraved things to each other, things that my best friend never would have forgiven me for. Thank God someone from the wedding party bumped me from behind before we were spotted making out in the corner like a couple hormonal teens, and my one working brain cell kicked some sense back into my balls seconds before I threw her over my shoulder and carried her out of the ballroom—caveman style.

  “I’m helping a friend out,” I reiterate for the millionth time.

  “I mean, I know you’re getting paid. It just seems a bit much,” she adds, and pulls a tube of lipstick from her purse. She smacks her lips together and my gaze drops. How the hell am I going to make it through this plane ride when she does things like that? Her innocent sexuality is going to be the death of me. “The air is dry up here,” she explains as she removes the cap and rolls out the lipstick.

  “Yeah, dry,” I agree. “And it’s not about the money,” I say. The truth is, I’m not getting paid—I’m a goddamn millionaire and don’t need her or her brother’s money—but it’s best I let her believe I’m getting compensated. She can’t wrap her brain around me doing this favor for Cason as it is.

  Is this really all about Cason?

  Hell yeah, it is. It has to be. I can’t be doing this because I want to spend time with her. I’m not a goddamn masochist.

  “I expected some unemployed college student desperate for money, not a...a grown man, who’s practically Italian royalty at that, with a steady career.” Her lips part and thin, as she layers the creamy pigment over her luscious mouth, and I swallow the groan of want threatening to crawl out of my throat. “Can you see why this confuses me, Roman?”

  Sweet mother of God. After last night, I was hoping I’d never see that fuck-me-red color on her lips again.

  Do not think about her luscious painted lips parting for your cock, dude.

  Dammit, I’m thinking about it.

  My dick stands up, clamoring for a front-row seat as that welcome—or rather unwelcome—image plays out in my mind’s eye. Yeah, no, it’s welcome.

  I swallow, and shift to hide my erection. “He’s just always been there for me, okay?”

  I went to Penn State to get away from my overbearing Italian family. New to America, and a fresh-faced kid on campus, the change of scenery was all a bit intimidating. Cason was there though, my friend, my roommate, the guy who took me under his wing and brought me into his tribe. A guy who’d been kicked around his entire life, he knew firsthand what it was like to be excluded and made sure every damn newbie felt wanted. After college, I chose to live in New York and took the position of head web developer when Cason created Hard Wear—an online clothing business that caters to men.

  “My family is in Sicily, remember?” I say, playing the ace that had been in my pocket.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Malta is just a short ferry ride away, and this is a way for me to go visit them. I haven’t been home since—”

  My insides go cold as I let my words fall off, but she gets it. I haven’t been home since my ex up and left weeks before my wedding. It’s been two years, and my sisters still call to check on me—far too much. I tell them I’m fine, and I am, yet they remain intrusive, overbearing, and are always butting into my life—which is why I’m better off in New York where they can’t stalk me on a daily basis.

  I love them. I truly do, but I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions. I scoff at that. I’m not even sure getting engaged had been my idea to begin with. One day I’m dating and the next there was talk of a wedding, and I’m pretty sure it was my mother who put Grandmother’s ring on my ex’s finger—not that it stayed there for any length of time.

  “Roman, I’m sorry,” she says, her voice thick and sincere. “I don’t think I ever told you that.” She reaches out and puts her hand on my knee. Her touch sizzles through my body and caresses my cock. I glance down, and suddenly, as if she just realized she was touching me, she snatches her hand back like I might have just given her leprosy. She links her fingers together on her lap.

  “Thank you,” I say, a canned response even though I do appreciate her words. “It’s fine.” Her brows lift, her expression dubious, but the truth is, it’s not like my ex broke my heart. When she refused to sign the prenup, it confirmed my suspicions. The women in my life want my name and my money; they don’t necessarily want me.

  “You’ll be visiting them?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I fib. Hell, I haven’t even told them I’m going to Malta. They’d invade our villa within minutes, before we could even unpack. They’d shower Peyton with love, hugs and kisses, and completely smother us both. “But my main reason for this is to help you get the position. I won’t let anything interfere with that.”

  She gives a slow shake of her head. “I’m just not sure you can pull this off,” she says, like she’s still looking for a way out of this insane arrangement her brother cooked up.

  “I can pull it off,” I say.

  She crinkles up her nose, scrunching the cluster of freckles that have been holding me captive since she grew into a beautiful woman. “You literally just flinched when I touched you.”

  I give a casual shrug. “You took me by surprise.”

  “What if I touch you in public? If you react like that people will know we’re pretending. We have to present a happy, loving couple.” She pushes back into her seat and lets loose a frus
trated sigh. Her head falls back, her eyes unfocused on the overhead lighting. “They say the marriage restriction in hiring single female teachers has been lifted, but behind the scenes it’s still practiced.” The frustration in her voice is palpable and wraps around my chest like a tight belt. “They won’t hire an unwed woman, Roman,” she adds, her frown deepening.

  I lean toward her, my stomach on fire at the unfairness in the world. She wants this job, and goddammit I’ll help her burst through that glass ceiling and do whatever it takes for her to get it. No one, and I mean no one, deserves to have their dreams realized more than this woman does.

  “That’s not fair,” I say, my tone just dark enough to have her gaze flying to mine. What, is she surprised that I agree with her?

  “You’re right. It’s not.”

  “You should get the job on your own merit,” I say. “You’re smart, one of the smartest women I know. You’re dedicated, and kind, and let me tell you, I’ve never met any woman wanting to give back to a society that was so cruel to her. If they can’t see your value, that’s on them.” She goes quiet, so quiet worry weaves its way through my body. Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt when reminding her of her past. “Peyton?”

  She blinks, the sound of her swallowing breaking the silence. “Thank you.”

  I wave my finger back and forth between the two of us. “As for you touching me and me not flinching, I guess we’ll have to practice,” I say.

  “Are you suggesting...” Mimicking my motion, she waves her hand back and forth, her words falling off as her dark lashes fall slowly over alarmed eyes.

  “What I’m saying is we’ll have to figure out a way not to react when touching each other.” Not going to happen. “What did you think I was saying?”

  “That.” She nods. “That’s what I thought you were suggesting. How do we go about that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “We’d better figure it out, don’t you think? Tomorrow we’ll be meeting my boss and the other teachers and the person I’m in competition with for the full-time position.”

  As she rambles, I study her mouth. The woman is sweet and sexy and so goddamn lush, but her never-ending questions and underlying accusations make me want to tie her up and busy her mouth in many other ways. Dirty ways. Delicious ways. Ways that would undoubtedly shock this sweet, young girl and have her pleading for mercy.

  Seriously, you wouldn’t believe what I’d do, the lengths I’d go to, to see those lush red lips parted, begging me for...anything. It’s almost frightening and I have to fight it down with every fiber of my being. I redirect my thoughts to get my damn erection under control. Once my dick is marshalled into submission, I stand and reach over her head.

  She flinches and presses herself into the leather seat. “What are you doing?” she asks. But holy Jesus I don’t miss the breathlessness in her voice or the way her skin flushed from my closeness. Yeah, okay, it’s true, the pull between us is insane, like so far off the charts, it’s a nuclear explosion waiting to happen.

  But it’s not going to happen.

  Cason didn’t just take me under his wing in college. He’s my best friend, the guy who had my back all through college, the guy who took a chance and hired me for a crucial position in his fledgling company and he was there to pick up the pieces when I finally faced the fact that women don’t want me for me, they want to marry into my family. Honesty is important and my ex’s betrayal gutted me.

  Hypocrite much?

  Okay, yeah, it’s true. I screwed up with Peyton last summer. I can blame it on the romantic atmosphere, the consumption of champagne, and if I try really hard, I can blame it on heartbreak. But the simple truth is this: I wanted Peyton. I wanted her like a drowning man wants a life raft, a thirsty man wants a drink, peanut butter wants jelly.

  Yeah. It’s bad.

  It’s really bad.

  And now? Well, and now I have to spend the next few weeks in Malta pretending to be her husband, and not exercise any of the rights that go with that.

  I adjust the overhead vent. “I’m turning the air off. You’re shivering.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  Back in my seat, my gaze seeks out hers and I say, “Seems you need to work on not reacting, too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You damn near jumped out of your shoes when you thought I was about to touch you, Peyton.”

  Her green eyes are stormy, like the warm Mediterranean Sea stirred up during a squall. “You took me by surprise is all,” she says, throwing my words back at me. But we’re both smart enough to know what’s going on here.

  I grin. “Yeah, okay.”

  “You say that like you don’t believe me,” she shoots back, and weariness fills my bones. I’m done bickering and answering questions. I reach into my pocket and pull out a small velvet box. Her eyes widen and her hand goes to her chest.

  “What...what is that?”

  I open the box and present a ring. She gasps, her startled gaze flying to mine. “Roman?”

  “This is why I was late last night. I was having issues getting this from my safety deposit box. There was some kind of mix-up.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “What’s not to understand? If we’re going to pretend we’re married, we have to cover all bases. Presenting you with my grandmother’s ring is the first base.”

  Don’t think of first base, Roman.

  I’m thinking of first base.

  My gaze drops, my mind back on her lush breasts.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes,” I respond with a grin, wanting to lighten things up a bit. She frowns, and I don’t miss the way she inches back. “What?”

  “I don’t want to wear your grandmother’s ring.”

  I nod, a measure of disappointment gathering in my gut. For some reason, I thought Peyton might have reacted differently than my ex, that she’d respect and appreciate tradition. “It’s a family custom... I just thought.” She closes her hand over mine just as I’m about to snap the box shut.

  “You don’t understand, Roman. It’s weird for me to wear the ring you gave your ex. I don’t feel right about it.”

  My throat thickens and I give a humorless laugh. “It wasn’t on her finger very long, Peyton. She said it was old and not her style. She wanted something newer, something shinier.”

  Her eyes widen. “Was she out of her mind?”

  I actually think I was the one who was out of his mind for getting swept up in the proposal, for allowing my family to make decisions for me. I’ll never allow that to happen again.

  I take the ring from the box and hold it out to her. She lets me slip it on her finger, and for the briefest of seconds this feels all too real. I’d be wise to remember it’s not, and she’s completely off-limits.

  “I’m committed to this, Peyton. You will be teaching children English,” I say. “The full-time position is as good as yours. I promise, and I never break my promises.”

  “No, you just go around breaking hearts,” she mumbles so low under her breath I’m not sure I heard her correctly.

  “What?”

  She nibbles on her bottom lip and after a few false starts she finally says, “We never did talk about that night, Roman.”

  My insides go dark as I push back into my seat. “Nothing to talk about. It was a mistake. I had too much to drink,” I lie. I don’t want to be a prick. I don’t want to hurt her—again. But I can’t tell her I’d lost all control of myself and was sure if I didn’t have a taste of her, right that very second, I’d combust. I don’t want to lead her on or let her think there could be more between us. I never want to let Cason down, and I broke the bro code once. I’m not about to lose my control and do it again. Nothing short of a brain tumor stealing my ability to think with clarit
y could make me kiss her a second time.

  “Now what was that you said last night about us working the kinks out?”

  Ah, shit, now why the hell did I say that?

  “Details,” she says quickly. “We need to work out the details.”

  “Isn’t that what I said?” I ask to cover my slip, because no way, no damn way on the face of this earth am I going to think about Peyton and kink in the same sentence ever again.

  Goddammit, I’m thinking about it.

  “No,” she says quietly, breathlessly, heat coloring her cheeks. “It’s not what you said.”

  “It’s what I meant to say.” I push from my seat. “Now how about that drink?”

  Unless, of course, she does want to talk about kink.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Peyton

  I WAKE TO find a set of intense brown eyes watching me carefully. I stiffen and blink, glancing around as memories infiltrate my brain, and that’s when I realize I’m on Roman’s plane and we’ve just landed in Malta. Excitement wells up inside me as I reach for my phone and check the time. It’s nearing midnight local time, six hours later than New York.

  “Did you get any sleep?” I ask Roman as he finger-combs his dark hair, not that any of it is out of place. No, Roman Bianchi is always put together, and as I look at him, I wonder what it would take to rattle the man and shatter his hard-earned control.

  “Just a bit.” He shoves his tablet into his leather briefcase and smooths his hands over his button-down shirt and dress pants. “It was hard with all your snoring, though.”

  What the hell? I stare at him. My God, his delivery was so deadpan, I almost think he’s telling the truth, either that or the long trip gave him a sense of humor. I open my mouth to come back with some smart-ass comment when the door to the cockpit opens. I turn to find two men stretching their limbs as they step into the cabin.