The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride by Nadia Lee

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Declan

Yuna shows up by the time I’m done scrambling my egg whites. Nobody can miss the tok tok of her wedge-heel sandals. And she’s in a flaming red dress that reminds me—uncomfortably—of how hot she looked in my porno dream.

I lay out a bagel and some cream cheese, plus a bowl of cut fruit for her. Then, to make sure I don’t do or say anything impulsive out of a coffee-deprived state, I start sipping my first cup.

She takes a bite of a bright red strawberry and smiles. “Mmm. You feed me the tastiest things.”

Agh.Coffee shoots up my nostrils. It’s surprisingly painful. I cough a few times.

And my dick is instantly hard.

“Are you okay?” Yuna gets up and runs a napkin down my shirt.

I look down and see a few brown spots on the gray fabric. Shit. Thankfully the shirt’s pulled out, so it’s hiding my erection. But her touch, even through the clothing, isn’t helping to settle things down.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” I say, then push her hands away—gently, though, so it doesn’t look like I’m rejecting her help. “Lemme, ah, just get a new shirt on. You go ahead and finish your breakfast.”

I walk up the stairs. Once I’m in my own bedroom, I exhale and try to bring myself back under control. It’s easier here, away from her, but still requires effort because I know she’s downstairs waiting. I think about baseball scores, brussels sprouts, a bad haircut I once got. Finally things go back to normal.

By the time I’ve changed shirts and gone back to the kitchen, Yuna’s done. I shovel my food down and drink my lukewarm coffee. Lukewarm caffeine is still better than none.

“So. You want to practice the waltz some more?” Yuna looks at me over the rim of her mug.

Yes, yes, let’s get close.

Jesus. Yuna resurrected my libido in less than ten minutes.

I force a smile. “Actually, I think I need to do some reading.”

“Reading?”

“For the movie. I’m meeting the director on Friday.”

“Oh, okay. Want me to read the other part?”

I want to say no to put some distance between us, but Yuna’s looking at me with her eyes wide and sparkling. And I can’t.

“Sure. That’d be great.”

She smiles, and her eyes curve into upside-down crescents. “Awesome.”

We sit in the living room. She takes an armchair near the couch I’m sitting on. I’ve already studied the script and the male lead’s part. It shouldn’t be difficult, but I can’t seem to focus.

My gaze flicks to her face constantly, to the way her mouth moves as she reads her part, the way her lips form the words. It keeps reminding me of my dream.

Aaaand I’m hard again.

All this, of course, means I can’t really concentrate on what I’m saying, although I think I do okay from the way she reacts. But I miss my cue twice.

Then a third time. She frowns and puts the script down. “I think you need a lot of work if you’re going to meet the director on Friday. Unless he just doesn’t care how you do because he’s already decided you’re going to be it.”

“Eh, I just need some practice.” I don’t, really—but if I tell her the truth, she’ll fire me as her boss.

Why couldn’t she be just a little bit like Jessica? Not the clingy and annoying part, but the I want you, Declan part.

“Well, we’ve got all day,” Yuna says easily.

And her patience is making me feel worse about my inability to concentrate. It’s disconcerting and embarrassing. I’m not an irresponsible guy. Especially not about a possible role, or anything to do with my career, for that matter.

But no matter how hard I try, the rest of the day is the same kind of torture. I blame my perverted subconscious for the dream, which my brain can’t seem to forget about and constantly goes back to, like a hungry child returning to a pantry for more biscuits.

Around five o’clock, I give up trying to be productive. I have Yuna sort through the dry cleaning that just got dropped off, and check messages and emails on my laptop at the kitchen counter.

Once she’s gone upstairs, the blood in my body starts flowing freely again, bringing oxygen and clarity to my previously lust-fogged head.

There’s a message from Tim asking me not to forget to bring Yuna on Friday. He also wants to know if she’s certain about not acting.

Very, very sure,I reply. She’s rich, so the fortune aspect of Hollywood probably doesn’t hold any appeal for her. Besides, she should consider being a concert pianist before becoming an actress. Imagine the kind of happiness she could bring people with that.

As I scroll through my inbox, a new email from the seeing eye dog retirement center pops up. It isn’t the usual monthly update, but the center sometimes sends an email when they get a new dog or something. The center always attaches a few dog pictures that never fail to spark joy in my heart, and I’m sure they will for Yuna, too.

A few minutes later, she comes down from my bedroom. “Hey, wanna see something?” I ask.

“What?” She takes a stool next to me and leans close. Every cell in my body comes to attention.

“Something that’s going to make you squeal with joy,” I say smoothly. Damn, I’m a good actor. I should get an Oscar for the proper, not-turned-on boss I’m playing here.

I click on the email and scroll past the Japanese text. Sure enough, there are tons of pictures of golden retrievers. They’re all old now, but the doggy smiles are still cute. Their dark eyes are sparkling in the photos, and it’s obvious they’re happy and cared for.

It makes my heart warm that my money’s doing something good for dogs who deserve love and comfort in their golden years.

“Wow. They’re adorable!” Yuna says, leaning closer until her hair is tickling my bare arm. Testosterone is pumping through me with a vengeance. “Are they yours?”

“Not really. I’m sponsoring a retirement center for seeing eye dogs in Japan.”

She turns to me. “You speak Japanese?”

“Other than a few words to order sushi and sake, no.”

She pats my hand, like she’s trying to communicate, It’s fine.

My skin burns, but with a good tingle. I clear my throat. “I went over with a translator to set it up.”

“That’s unusual, going all the way to another country to do something like this. Most people donate closer to home.”

“Yes, but I had an unusual experience.” Then I tell her how it all started—with the documentary I saw on a flight.

Thankfully, she moves back slightly as I speak, but it doesn’t help much. She’s still too close. My heart is pounding too hard and I feel like I’m overheating. Or maybe the A/C is malfunctioning. But I don’t move to check it, because one hundred percent of her attention is on me, and I’m loath to give that up.

Her gaze softens with something I can’t put my finger on. She glances at the email. “Want me to translate?”

“I thought you were Korean?”

“Yes, but I speak several languages. Don’t you remember my résumé?” she teases.

“It probably escaped my notice.” Mainly because I’ve never needed to hire a translator, except that one time I went to Japan. When a foreign company wants me to film commercials for them, they usually provide someone.

“Let me see.” She scrolls back up. “Okay, so the first two paragraphs are just greetings…”

“Really?” The opening paragraphs are at least three lines long each. “That’s a lot of greeting.”

“Welcome to Japan. Although we often do something similar in Korea, too. Anyway, um… They’re saying that the dogs are doing well… They have a new pooch in the center… His name is Sam-kun.”

“Samkun, huh?” I realize I must’ve missed a lot of information about each dog in those updates. Knowing more about the new dog makes him feel that much more special, and the cause seems even worthier. “Nice. Is that a common Japanese name?”

She pauses, then smiles. “If you don’t already know, kun is what Japanese people add to a boy’s name or a pet’s name.” She thinks for a moment. “Well, a male pet, anyway. It’s like a show of affection. But in English, you’d just call the dog Sam, which is obviously not a Japanese name.”

“I had no idea.”

She winks. “I’m good at expanding people’s horizons. Stick around and you’ll learn a lot more.”

The odd sensation starts in my heart again, one I never felt until I met Yuna. The one that makes my heart beat funny…and makes me want to rub a hand over it like there’s something ticklish underneath the ribcage.

She stares at me, like she can sense what’s happening. Is she aware of how much I want her, the crazy connection I’ve been feeling since the moment I heard her play at the airport? And…does she feel anything like it for me? She shifts a little, and her gaze seems to darken as her long lashes lower briefly. Her throat moves.

The scent of her seems to be growing stronger. It’s driving me crazy. My brain says there are a billion reasons why it’s a bad idea to act impulsively. My instinct says there are a billion reasons why my brain’s wrong regarding Yuna.

I lean forward until we’re close enough that our breath mingles. Yuna closes the last of the distance.

I cradle her gorgeous face in my palms and plunder her mouth. Her lips are so much softer than I imagined. They part in welcome, letting me in. Her taste is sweet and heady, and my head spins. She isn’t shy as she strokes me with her tongue. Mine glides along hers, and I groan. Heat strikes through me like lightning, leaving my blood boiling.

It’s far, far better than any of my dreams. I don’t ever want to stop.

A soft sigh catches in her throat. Her fingers run through my hair, sending electric tingles all over my scalp. She clenches her hand, just tight enough to let me know she’s got me.

Lust expands until my skin feels too tight and hot. I drag her over until she’s straddling my thighs. She feels surprisingly soft and small in my arms. I put a hand on her back and pull her closer. Her breasts crush against my chest, the warm flesh between her legs cradling my rigid cock, making my entire body tense with lust. She shifts her thighs and lets out a soft moan.

I can’t remember why I ever thought it was a bad idea to get entangled with an assistant.

Something thuds. The sound isn’t loud, but it’s enough to jar Yuna out of the kiss. I glance down at the source of the interruption. One of her wedge shoes lies capsized on the floor.

The intimate moment cracks as our lips pull apart, and I don’t want it to shatter completely. Trying to re-create the magic, I tilt her chin to capture her mouth again, but she pulls back. Her gaze drops to our crotches, where we’re still pressed tightly. Red suffuses her cheeks.

“Um… I should get going now.” She scrambles off my lap and slips her foot into the shoe.

“You should…what?” Women don’t flee after I kiss them. What the hell is going on?

But Yuna’s moving like she’s rushing through a rapid piano piece. She grabs her bag. “I just remembered I have an appointment.”

“What?” I ask again, struggling to process. My brain isn’t getting much blood at the moment. I still don’t understand why she’s leaving instead of returning to the kiss. Or we could escalate to something more intense if she wants. I’m flexible.

“Something I can’t miss. See you tomorrow!”

Then, faster than a lightning bolt, she rushes out of the house. By the time I think to go after her, she’s halfway down the driveway. I cringe at the way she runs because her heels are high…and isn’t she going to twist an ankle at that speed? But somehow she seems steady, like she’s in a pair of Nikes or something.

“Let me give you a ride!” I yell, running after her. That’ll at least give us a chance to talk about things, although I’m not exactly sure what or how I’m going to talk about it with her. I have zero experience with this kind of situation. This woman is running away.

“No!” she says without looking back. “I already called Lyft! Don’t worry—I’ll expense it.” Now she’s going even faster. She’s definitely going to sprain something at this rate.

“Slow down! I’m not chasing you!”

I shove my fingers into my hair as I watch her ease off her sprint.

Not chasing you, my ass.

I might not be going after her right this minute, but there’s no way I’m giving up. I’m an idiot who just took a bite out of the damned forbidden apple.