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What He Demands (My Alpha Billionaire #2) Page 7
Author: Tawny Taylor

“Guest?”

“You saw him when we first arrived.”

“Mmmm.” I remembered seeing the man, of course. But I wasn’t particularly interested in talking about him. No. I was much more interested in getting my clothes off and Shane’s clothes off. It was hot. I was hot. I was burning up.

Letting go of his neck, I let my hands go exploring. This was a rare treat. Shane had bound my hands every time we’d had sex. Thus, I’d spent very little time touching him, stroking him, exploring all those delicious ridges cutting between his thick corded muscles.

Shane bit me, right in the crook of the neck, and I yelped as I angled my head to give him better access to that spot. Pain. Pleasure. They were one and the same to me. They both made me hotter. Tighter. More desperate for release.

But instead of biting me again, Shane extricated himself from my clinging grasp and straightened up. “Later. Our meal is getting cold.” He went to the closet and opened the door. My clothes were all hanging neatly. He selected an ankle-length maxi dress he’d sent me and laid it out on the bed. “You have five minutes. Only five.”

And he left, shutting the door behind him.

Suffering, thanks to his magical kisses, I scowled at the closed door then hurried to the bathroom to freshen up. Five minutes. There was no time to waste. Not if I didn’t want to be punished.

Then again, I hadn’t been punished in a while…

* * * * *

Exactly five minutes later, I was in the living room, searching for Shane. Voices, both male, drifted in through the open doors, carried by a sea-scented breeze. Barefoot, the tiles underfoot cool to the touch, I followed the sound. They were standing close to the stairs, both holding glasses. The stranger was shirtless, a pair of swim trunks hanging from his narrow hips. His body was muscular, lean, his dark hair ruffled by the wind. Shane was still in his white dress shirt and pants. The brisk wind was sending his untied silk tie flailing from his collar. He looked a little stiff, I noticed as I came closer. His expression a little sharp. It was the stranger who noticed me approaching first. He was facing the house. Shane’s back was to me.

The stranger’s gaze flicked to me and Shane did a one eighty and cranked on the smile. But I couldn’t help noticing the wattage wasn’t at one hundred percent.

Was there a problem?

Shane held a hand out to me, and I placed my hand in his the moment I was close enough to reach it. “This is Bristol,” he said, introducing me first. “Bristol, this is Jordan. He’s an old and dear friend.”

“Bristol.” Jordan, the old and dear friend, offered a hand.

“It’s nice meeting you.” I shook it and quickly placed my hand back in Shane’s.

Shane’s grip was hard. Not painful but almost. I sensed he was smiling on the outside but fuming on the inside.

Were they not dear old friends? If not, why wouldn’t he just tell his friend to leave?

Shane gave me an assessing up and down. “You look lovely. Shall we?”

“Thanks.” Feeling a little awkward, I let him escort me to the table set for three. I waited for him to pull out my chair then push it in. Neither man sat until I had.

Wasn’t this cozy? Me with two men. Gorgeous men. Men who were eyeballing each other like two junkyard dogs that were ready to tear each other to pieces.

I’d never seen Shane behave this way before. It made me feel a little uncomfortable. Correction, it made me very uncomfortable.

“Bristol, how was your flight?” Jordan asked as he extracted the chilled wine bottle from the bucket of ice next to him.

“It was quick, thank God.”

“Not a flier?” He motioned for me to hold out my glass, which I did.

“No. I’d never flown before.” Keeping my gaze locked to the glass, I watched the wine swirl around the sides as he poured.

“I’m sure you’ll get used to traveling,” he said, lifting the bottle. “Of course, it’s always easier if your host knows you’re anxious. That way he can provide for your comfort.”

I glanced at Shane. He was being quiet. Too quiet.

His sharp gaze was on Jordan. The muscle on his jaw was a little tight. If we were alone, I’d ask what the problem was. But we weren’t. “I assure you, her comfort was my first priority.”

Oh good grief.

“Yes, Shane is an excellent host,” I said, sipping the wine. It was delicious, of course. Smooth as silk. Unlike the conversation. Time to change the topic, before Shane blew a blood vessel. “How are you finding Antigua?”

Jordan answered, “It’s nice this time of year. I like to fly out every few weeks, unwind.”

Must be nice. “I’m sure it’s good to get away.” I glanced at Shane again. That jaw muscle was getting tighter.

What the heck was going on?

The conversation came to a standstill. I wanted to fill the awkward silence but I didn’t know what to say to either man. It seemed no topic was safe. So instead I concentrated on eating. The food was delicious, of course. It was different from anything I’d tasted before. There was a cold fruity soup that tasted better than I expected, followed by a rice dish with beans and coconut, served with seafood, including some breaded fish of some kind. Dessert was a fruit fritter. Sweet, light, perfect.

After eating, Jordan excused himself, saying he was meeting some friends in town. I didn’t say a word until I was sure he was out of earshot.

“Is something wrong?” I asked Shane. He was staring out at the ocean.

“No.”

“You’re very quiet.” I traced the rim of my now empty wineglass with a fingertip.

“I’m quiet sometimes.” His voice was clipped. Cold.

“I get that. But you seem…tense.”

“It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. Why was he lying? Feeling a little insulted, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. This wasn’t what I’d expected. Not at all. Here we were in paradise, and Shane was miserable. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Did I do something to make you upset?”

“No.”

“Is it Jordan, then?”

“He’s an old friend.” There was little, if any, emotion in that statement.

“Is there something going on between you two? Were you expecting him to be here?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” He stood, went to the railing and leaned against it.

I followed. I wanted to dig harder, to get the truth out of Shane, but I knew he was the kind of man who wouldn’t handle prying well. I decided to let it rest for the time being and try to distract him. We were alone now. In paradise. For only a short time. Our obligation to our guest had been taken care of. Now we could do as we please.

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Tawny Taylor's Novels
» What He Wants (My Alpha Billionaire #1)
» What He Demands (My Alpha Billionaire #2)
» What He Craves (My Alpha Billionaire #3)
» What He Needs (My Alpha Billionaire #4)