The Bullion Brothers: Billionaire triplet brothers interracial menage Read Free Page B

“Do I look to you like a girl who needs pie ?”

    His grin was as infuriating as it was delicious. It had an easy warmth and, even with the assumption that I would do what he told me, there was an openness in his face. There was nevertheless something that was perpetually amused and unbearably pleased with itself.

    The sound of his voice was soft and intimate under the café sunshade as he said, “You look to me like a girl in an urgent need of pie. I would say that you were a borderline emergency.”  

    He was playing with me. I tried hard not to like it. I hate it when men do that. I reminded myself so. Repeatedly.

    He continued, “Maya, I see someone who needs to be loved and   who wants to be needed. Someone born to care and be cared for. Someone to protect. Someone made for nurturing.”

    I watched his eyes. Was that a sardonic twinkle or was he being sincere. I had no way to tell. My teeth clenched. My eyes were fixed on his strong, broad chest. I was trying to take in what he was saying.

    He said, “I’ve been looking a long time, Maya. Hunting, you might say. I need a woman like you. My family needs a beautiful woman, exactly like you, Maya.”

    I was flustered. I didn’t know how to respond. His words made me tingle and thrum inside, but I couldn’t process his meaning. And still I hadn’t registered who he was or put his obvious wealth, his wry smile and his scorching hot bod together to identify his lethal reputation. I peered into his eyes.

    Not knowing what to do and playing for time, I changed the subject and said, “Listen, I’m sorry I ran off like that on Thursday. I really didn’t mean to be rude.” The relaxation pulled out of his look and his face tightened back up.

    He said, “Funny. That’s exactly what I was going to say. I looked for you, but something came up and unfortunately I had to leave. I’m so very sorry.” I thought about the two big, dark shadows of men that slipped into the back of his Bentley. “And I’m so glad now, to have found you again.”

    As he said that, his eyes shone with an intensity that shook me. His eyes sparkled, and crinkled in the corners. His strong, white teeth shone above his perfectly cleft chin. A girl could get herself into a whole lot of trouble looking at a man like this.

    A very large piece of pie arrived, along with my latte. I said, “Aren’t you having anything?”

    He said, “I had a late brunch on the boat.”

    “Is your boat going to be OK out there in the middle of the Hudson?”

    “It’s a big boat, it can take care of itself. Besides, it’s not my boat.”

    “Really?”

    “Strictly speaking, no. A smart man said, ‘always rent if it flies… or floats.’” I caught his hesitation. I said,

    “ Flies, floats or fucks , wasn’t it?”

    He smiled and said,

    “I only apply it to machines and vehicles.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Oh, yes.” His grin was so mischievous it made me want to do something very wicked. He said, “The man who said that had an insatiable appetite for Japanese girls. Beautiful girls to whom he was wildly generous and permanently unattached.”

    “Are you permanently unattached, then?”

    “Not permanently, I hope.” Now I couldn’t tell whether he was playing or not. I was even more infuriated by his grin as it left. It wasn’t easy to tell whether it had actually grown more infuriating before it melted away, or whether the effort of not slapping him was just getting too much for me.  

    The pie had that perfect pastry base that dissolves on contact with warmth and moisture. The sweet pastry and sharp lemon was a heavenly balance with the crumbly cloud of meringue. His attention was rapt as he watched me eat. In spite of my   protest, the pie did make me feel a whole lot better.  

    A last triangular piece of lemon pastry sat among golden crumbs on the plate. He said, “You should finish it. It’s doing you good.” I wanted it, but I also wanted to show some restraint.