The Billionaire's Reluctant Pregnant Bride: A BWWM Romance Read online

  “The one that shows local folk artists?”

  “Yeah.” He turns to his work. “Since the museum is community oriented, I was thinking of putting in more structures that could facilitate community activities. See, there’s a park here. It’s not that big, but a good number of children can play—especially the ones attending daycare. I think there should be studios where people can have aerobics classes and teach yoga and Qigong. Also, an area to play cards and things like bingo. You know, community things.”

  I smile despite myself. “Really? You’re putting in a place to play bingo? I can’t imagine you playing bingo, or getting excited about it.”

  “Architecture isn’t just about your own vision, though that is important. However, it’s mostly about thinking about the best way to use a space, and that means putting yourself into the minds and hearts of people who will use that space. I like imagining people. What do they like? What do they love? What makes them happy and what do they need? What kind of structures can be created to accommodate those things? Good food. Good family. Good community. I love helping people do what they love in my buildings so I can share a little part in it.”

  I take a deep breath. “I had no idea you felt this way.”

  He looks at me sheepishly. “What do you mean?”

  I study him. Preston always seems so sure of himself. I haven’t seen him vulnerable like this yet. He’s truly sharing his heart with me and…it’s beautiful.

  “I’ve been wondering a lot lately about what drove me be an artist in the first place. When I remember, I’m flooded with feelings I wanted to express and things I wanted to say. But my memory is foggy, so it’s hard for me to get a good grasp on any one thing.”

  “That’s normal,” he says, “but I think I know why.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s a pretty big claim.”

  “Yeah, it is, but I only know it because you have a pretty big heart.” He brushes a lock of hair from my face.

  I try to ignore my escalating heartbeat. “So what is it?”

  “You really want me to tell you, or do you want to rediscover it for yourself?”

  I don’t answer.

  I don’t move.

  I don’t move even when he takes my hand and presses it to his chest.

  His heavy lidded eyes look down at me. “Do you feel that?”

  “Your heartbeat?”

  “Yes.”

  I nod. Of course I feel it. Every cell in my body is throbbing with it.

  “Everything you feel is on your face,” he whispers. “It’s like you paint the room with your feelings, even before you ever picked up a brush. It frightened people. Intimidated them. They knew that they could never be as bright as you when they were beside you.”

  My throat closes.

  “Even I felt that way,” he says. “I couldn’t take my eyes away from you. Every moment…every second…all I could see was you. It terrified me. Your art is the same way. You can’t look away. You can’t help but feel, even if you haven’t made sense of those feelings yet. And do you know why?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s because you’re honest,” he tells me. “It’s because you feel deeply and purely. And anyone who comes into contact with it can’t help but be moved.”

  He closes my hand and envelopes it in his own. “I didn’t want you away from me because I knew that anyone who saw you would be attracted. How could they not? I was like a moth to flame, and you were this burning, beautiful thing I knew I would never be able to touch, I knew would destroy me if I tried to touch it. But still I tried, and I tried to separate you from those things. It was wrong. I knew while I was doing it. And I respected you, even though I hated it, that you told me to go fuck myself.”

  “I did not say that.”

  “Yeah, you did. Right after you said you’d be fucking him.”

  Wow. I guess I had…

  “Don’t apologize,” he tells me.

  “Wasn’t going to. I was just going to say…you better not try that shit again. I’m going to be myself, and you’re going to have to deal with it. If you ever try to control me like that, I’m out. I don’t care who you are or what you mean to me, I’m out.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t want a woman who will just bend to my will. I want a partner. Someone strong who will stand beside me. Someone who is honest.” He looks at my lips. “That is what brings me to life.”

  He cups my face, leaning down.

  My hand moves to his wrist. I hold it tightly, but don’t push him away. Instead, I pull him closer so our faces are so close that our lips almost touch.

  For a moment, he stops, shocked. He didn’t expect me to consent so quickly, to change things between us so fast, especially with what I just remembered. But I did. Even I don’t understand why.

  And then, he kisses me. Softly. A ghost of a kiss I can somehow feel all the way to my toes. It’s more teasing than kissing. More breathing than touching. As ephemeral and warm as a sunbeam breaching the shade beneath a tree.

  Familiar.

  Close.

  Beautiful.

  My heart pounds in my chest. I grab his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He doesn’t hesitate this time. His hands are on my shoulders, in my hair, cupping my face, down my back, grabbing my ass, pulling me close to his magnificent erection. We both move back, quickly, our legs tripping over one another until I hit his desk.

  He sweeps his hand across his desk, spilling papers and pens and all the rest of it onto the floor. “What the hell? You’re work—”

  “I can get to it later. Right now, I need this,” he says, pushing back my legs.

  I’m about to say something, and then I feel his breath fanning between my legs.

  My pussy reacts immediately, tightening with anticipation for the moment he makes contact.

  He does, tongue flicking over my clit. Lazily, he rolls it up and down my cunt before slipping it into me. I cry out. His thumbs dig into the backs of my knees, hiking my legs over his muscular shoulders as he makes love to me with his tongue as it rolls up and down my cunt.

  “Oh God,” I whisper, grabbing the edge of the desk and spreading my legs as far as I can to give him better access.

  He makes a low growl of approval. “You taste so sweet, Tachell.”

  “That surprise you?” I gasp.

  I feel his lips twist into a grin. “Well, you’ve got such a mouth—”

  “Ah, ah. Don’t finish that. Otherwise I’m closing up shop.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  I look down to find him grinning. The, he shuts his eyes and kisses me deeper, tongue rolling inside of me and all around me. Good God. My toes curl. My heels dig into his back. The heat radiating from him warms the soles of my feet.

  I adjust my grip on the desk and arch up, pushing myself into his face. He takes it—no, he loves it—how I grind up against him wildly, completely open and desperate for my own pleasure. He moves his hands to my ass, squeezing it as he pushes it even deeper into his mouth.

  I buck against him as he whispers how beautiful I am, how perfect, how sweet.

  “Cum for me, Tachell.”

  I do, and he accepts it, all of it. I cry as I’m carried above the city, floating above the world of lights beneath me, blinking and sparkling like the thousand incandescent shards of my heart.

  This boy was dangerous. These feelings were dangerous. I know he said that I was the honest one, that he was gonna get hurt flying too close to the flames, but right now I felt like it was me who was stripped bare.

  My heart speeds up. This is so real, too real.

  He leans forward onto the desk, grabbing my arms and pinning them above my head.

  My cunt tightens once again, eager for him.

  Andy then he slides into me.

  Completing me.

  Taking me.

  Am I truly ready for this? A part of me wants it like it’s the only thing it’s ever wanted. Yet, some part of me
still hesitates, still fears. But even that part is swallowed by the tide of passion that sweeps over me, drowning out my fears and concerns under desire.

  He keeps his eyes on mine as he moves. Deep, dark, midnight blue against his moonlit skin. He moves slowly, so I can feel every inch of him. My pussy is still a bit sore from all that kissing a few moments ago, and I writhe beneath him, sensitive to his length. He keeps the speed agonizingly slow until I’m ready to break again.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  His lips move over my face, just barely touching mine.

  I turn my head to the side and he kisses just below my jaw, claiming my neck with soft lips and tongue. His strong hands pinning down my hips, holding me in place. I move against him, trying to grind and move faster, but he’s set the pace and it’s agonizingly slow and deliberate. He’s looking down at me like he was looking down at his drawing, and I wonder what he’s imagining.

  This man, his eyes only on mine, only for mine.

  His kisses are like promises of forever.

  I can’t hold back any longer. I dig my fingernails into his back. He pushes into me one last time, back straining, and I shatter again, spilling out all over the city beneath us like red hot embers scattered over sand.

  Chapter 21

  I shut my eyes.

  Breathe.

  I try to still my jittery foot beneath the table.

  Just breathe.

  Only one month before the wedding. Everything is moving in hyperspeed and I can’t take it. Priscilla and Kate are taking care of the arrangements. Since I knew nothing about weddings, I was happy to let them deal with all of it. Florists. Caterers. Musicians. It will be at the Preston’s childhood home—the one so close to the school we both attended—so it will be easy for my family to attend. Also, it is the only area other than New York City where we have shared memories.

  Sure, most of them aren’t great, but I’m thankful for them. Now that I know what Preston was feeling at the time, I’m starting to look at them in a different way. And I couldn’t be happier that we were going home together.

  Now, all I had to do was finish the damn wedding invitation and send it to the printer.

  The “Save the Date” invitation had already gone out a week before. Preston told me not to worry about it. The wedding was going to be relatively small—only close friends and family. Everyone who was coming had already told us they’d be there.

  Still, I wanted to make our official invitation special. The “Save the Date” card was pretty, but it didn’t say a lot about us. I wanted something that captured our love.

  Preston said I was really over thinking it. Most people would maybe hang it on their fridge for a few weeks, and then toss it.

  I told him I didn’t care about what other people did. I wanted to make something meaningful to us.

  Preston knew when he wasn’t going to win, so he just kissed my forehead.

  I tap my pencil on the edge of the page and think about home.

  The dappled sunlight streaming through the trees. The gentle tickling of grass beneath your fingertips. The clouds moving over the clear blue sky. The changing leaves in fall. How my feelings have changed so much since then…

  I stop my tapping.

  That’s it.

  I grab a watercolor sheet, lay down a ruler with my left hand and tear with my right. Then, I get to work.

  I mix autumn colors. Wine red. Ochre. Burnt umber. Sienna. I love the sensuous spread of pigment on the page. How it’s thin enough to to reveal the tooth of the paper. It perfectly revealed the essence of my theme. Love that was hard won, slow, honest, patient—and most of all, real.

  A small, sad smile spreads over my lips as I think of all the misunderstandings and mistakes we made. And yet, despite all of those things, we somehow found ourselves here—surrounded by love.

  Preston knocks on the door and I look up.

  “How is it coming?” he asks.

  “Great. I finally figured it out.”

  “I can’t wait to see it,” he says, stepping forward.

  A beam of sunlight hits his hair.

  A beam of sunlight…

  His hair…

  I drop my paintbrush.

  No.

  Pain and devastation claw through my stomach and strangle my throat.

  No. No. No.

  I remember.

  I don’t want to remember, but I do.

  “What is it, Tachell?” he asks, eyes wide with concern.

  But he can’t help me.

  He can’t ever help me again.

  Because now that I remember, I can’t ever marry him.

  Chapter 22

  Tachell – Memory

  I lean against the railing, glancing up at the magnificent mansion from the porch. Well, from one of them at least. And, not for the first time this evening, I wonder why the hell I even came to this stupid party. Just a bunch of drunk recent grads, most of whom I’d probably never see again. Not only that, but my only friend here was Reggie. All of my other friends had proven their intelligence once again by staying far away from this night of drunken debauchery. And I’d proven myself to be a sap because Reggie hadn’t wanted to go alone.

  You have Preston, I told him.

  Preston will leave me immediately. All the girls cling to him.

  All the girls cling to you, too.

  Please, Tachell.

  Fine. I’ll support you.

  And what did all that sisterly love get me? Forty-five minutes after we arrived, he went off to one of the upstairs bedrooms with Clarissa. Now I had to wait for him to finish so we could finally go home.

  “Hey Tachell,” an unfortunately very familiar voice slurs.

  I glower at the man weaving in the doorway. I wish I could say Preston looked stupid with a drunk grin on his face, but he doesn’t.

  Preston starts “walking” over to me. I sigh, turning my back to him as he flops over the side of the railing.

  “So, Everett,” he says.

  I narrow my eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “He isn’t good enough for you.”

  I snort. What the hell? “Yeah, Everett. Why do you care?”

  There’s a tick in his jaw. He grips his plastic beer cup a little harder. “I don’t.”

  “Yeah, exactly. So if I want to fuck Everett, it’s none of your business.”

  His eyes flash up from his glass, full of heat. I’ve never seen anything like it, I don’t know what it means. I’ve never seen him look at me that way—at anyone or anything that way. He grips my arm, pulling me close. “You’re fucking him?”

  I wasn’t. I actually hadn’t ever been with anyone. I was thinking about it, but I wanted to wait until it felt right. It didn’t feel right with Everett or most of the guys I went to school with. I’d heard guys like him talking about me, they thought I was easy just because I didn’t have as much money and wasn’t pretty like the other girls. It infuriated me.

  However, none of this should be Preston’s concern. So why was he looking at me like he was never going to let. Me go?

  My heart beats faster. Furiously fast. Frighteningly fast. I back up but he’s still advancing until he has either hand on the side of the balcony so I can’t escape, caging me in. I feel the heat from his body radiating off of him, the strength of his muscles through his clothes. Every part of him, strong and taut and ready for…something.

  “You’re scaring me,” I whisper.

  He leans closer, almost close enough that our lips are touching. “Good.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m glad you’re starting to see me as something more than your brother’s best friend.”

  “You don’t need to do this. I already see you as something more. An asshole.”

  His expression deflates. His grip on me loosens. “Is that all you see me as, Tachell?”

  I shiver. It’s the wind, because it’s so cold out here and so hot
inside. It’s because he’s too close to me and acting all creepy. That’s the only reason I’m shivering. I’m sure of it. “Yes,” I whisper.

  His eyes go hard again. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, luckily I don’t have to convince you.”

  “But how much longer are you going to be able to convince yourself?”

  What the hell is he getting at? I glare into his eyes, and they’re dark and full of something I don’t want to put a name to. My stomach is filling with a feeling I don’t want to acknowledge. Too many things are happening at once, and none of them make sense.

  One of his hands comes up to cup my cheek. When his fingers make impact with my skin, my eyelids flutter. My entire body starts feeling like a thousand fireworks are about to take off.

  “You’re drunk,” I whisper.

  “No, I’m not. But I wish I were. Then, maybe, I’d do something beautiful we could both regret later.”

  I push him away. “Stop teasing me.” I turn, gripping the railing, trying to catch my breath.

  “I’m not teasing.” He brushes my hair from the back of my neck, sending more goosebumps down the back of my neck.

  “Stop touching me.”

  He sighs, stepping to the side. He grips the railing like he’s about to break it. “Don’t sleep with him, Tachell.”

  “What?”

  “He doesn’t deserve you.”

  This was just…weird. What the hell was going on? “Did Reggie put you up to this?”

  “No. Pretty sure he’d kill me if he knew I was talking to you like this. Or maybe not. You did just say you were fucking Everett.”

  “I can fuck whoever I want. When the time is right, I’ll do it. No one owns me, not you or Reggie.”

  He looks down. “Keep it that way.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll only give you to someone who loves you,” he stumbles forward, gripping my shoulders.

  “You really are drunk,” I whisper.

  “No,” he slurs. “I’m not.”

  I push him away and start walking. I hear him call my name, but I’m already moving through the party and out the front door. What else was I supposed to do? Preston wasn’t the kind of man who could be tamed, and he certainly had no special feelings for me.