A Hollywood Deal (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience #1) Page 12

  I shake my head. It sounds about right.

  “In the case of children…” She stops. “You said you’d think on this point. So. What do you plan to do?”

  “Paige can keep them,” Ryder says. “Full custody. I’ll provide child support as needed, plus a trust of twenty-five million dollars for the kid.”

  I gasp. “What?”

  His expression is one of very mild surprise. “I told you already.”

  I remember, but I thought he was just being outrageous for the sake of being outrageous!

  Samantha continues, “Then there’s the matter of alimony. Ten million, provided that the marriage lasts at least twelve full months.”

  I must’ve not had enough tea or something. I didn’t sleep much last night. “Wait. What did you say?”

  “Alimony. Ten million dollars, assuming you both stay married for at least twelve full months, and the divorce isn’t caused by you cheating on him or something like that. Basically, irreconcilable differences is the only way for the alimony to be collectible. And the trust for any children will be fully controllable by Ryder until they come of age.”

  I shake my head. “But—”

  “It’s set.” Samantha puts her hand on the table, fingers splayed. “You can’t ask for more even if you stay married for years and years before you split.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She gives me a bland smile that silently rebukes me for my apparent greed. “It’s really quite generous, since you probably aren’t bringing many assets to the marriage. Almost everything of value seems to belong to Ryder. Regardless, you need a lawyer to go over the agreement with you.”

  “I don’t need a lawyer.” I wish Ryder and I were alone so we could talk about this “alimony.” What is he thinking, telling her to give me that ridiculous sum on top of the trust for the child? And what is this thing about child support? He knows the baby I’m carrying isn’t his.

  “Yes, you do. I won’t have the prenup invalidated because you didn’t have proper legal representation. If you need a referral, try Craig Richmond. He’s quite good.”

  I’ve heard of him. He specializes in Hollywood celeb divorces. And is freakishly expensive. “I can’t afford someone like that.”

  “I’ll handle it.” Ryder squeezes my hand. “Samantha, can you give us a moment?”

  “Sure.” She gets up, checking her Rolex. “Let me know when you’re ready. Just FYI, I have another appointment in about half an hour.” She leaves, closing the door behind her.

  “I can’t do this,” I burst out.

  “Of course you can. It’s not that much money.”

  “But twenty-five million for a child that isn’t even yours? And ten million on top of that for alimony? What are you thinking?”

  “You said you didn’t want Shaun to have any influence over the baby. Right? Okay, so your ex won’t have any kind of sentimental hold over him, but what about money? That’s different. People do a lot of stupid things for money.” Ryder’s gaze hardens. “I’m trying to remove the temptation. Your child won’t ever get into something he shouldn’t because he needs money. That’s all.”

  “But it’s too much. And child support too?”

  He puts a palm up. “Not negotiable. The child deserves to be taken care of.”

  “Ryder, look. I would’ve never agreed to the whole thing if I knew you were going to do this.”

  The expression on his face slips. “Why not? Isn’t it enough?”

  “Not enough…? What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “A practical type.”

  “The amount you’re proposing is out of proportion.”

  He drops his hand, shrugs. “It’s not that much.”

  My jaw will probably break at the rate it keeps hitting the floor.

  Unable to sit still, I get up. “You’re crazy. I mean, I knew Hollywood types were crazy, but this is insane.”

  “It’s not a Hollywood thing.” He stands as well. “Successful husbands usually end up giving a lot more than that to their wives when they divorce. Just watch. Even my uncle’s probably going to end up giving something to my aunt despite the prenup.”

  “But they’ve been married for decades. They have five children together.” I stop and shake my head. Why am I bothering? Movie stars never make any sense anyway.

  “It’s just a little insurance to ensure you’ll be all right. I told you my grandfather’s paintings are worth over fifty million apiece.”

  He takes a step toward me, closing the distance.

  I back up slightly and encounter the edge of the conference table. “So you’re going to hand over more than half its value?”

  “Far less than half, doll. The portrait has sentimental value to me. Besides, I want to make sure you’re taken care of no matter what. You can do whatever you want with that money. Find your true passion, live life the way you want…without having to worry about putting food on the table or a roof over your head.”

  His gorgeous eyes bore into mine, and I cannot look away. My heart thuds, and the thought behind the offer touches me in ways I never thought possible.

  “Don’t let Samantha’s attitude make you feel bad.” He leans in and brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers. “All I’m giving you here is money. You’re helping me get something far more valuable. This is the least I can do for you.”

  My throat closes around a tight ball of unease and perverse annoyance. I don’t like the way things are turning into some cold, monetary transaction. I don’t even know why it bothers me because it isn’t like we’re getting married for love.

  Maybe it’s because I don’t like the unknown expectations that come with the overly generous sum. I learned a long time ago that people don’t offer you something without wanting something else back.

  And I don’t know what Ryder wants in return for the money. I don’t even know why he’s offering so much. He can be generous, but he’s not frivolous with his finances. Nor is he one of those celebrities who doesn’t know what to do with his fortune or thinks that the money will keep pouring in forever and ever.

  He knows more about investing and diversifying his income stream than most people. He’s into stocks, bonds, commodities, precious metals, real estate and backing other businesses as he sees fit. I’ve shuffled a lot of his paperwork for him, and I know for a fact that he makes more money off his investments than his movies.

  Then the other stuff Samantha said finally sinks into me. She said if I cheat, there’ll be no alimony.

  “Is this about sex?” I ask.

  He looks at me like I just said I came from Mars. “What?”

  “Samantha said no cheating, so I presume the money’s for paying me to go without for a year.”

  “Well, yeah. There are certain expectations.” He drops his gaze to my lips, then back to my face. “But if you want sex, just ask. It won’t be cheating if you do it with me.”

  My cheeks and chest heat as an image of that glorious male body dedicated to making me feel good suddenly is front and center in my mind’s eye. If even a tenth of the stories out there are true, Ryder’s got to be divine in bed.

  “So if I don’t, um, ask, you’ll go without for a year, too?” God I sound breathless. Why don’t I just moan out loud, make it really obvious? He said he’d forgo sex, but he was angry at the time. Was he really serious?

  The thing is, I thought I’d be okay with him sleeping with other women. But now that I have his ring on my finger, it’s starting not to feel okay. He won’t only be my boss anymore. He’ll be my husband, even if it’s just for a year. And a part of me doesn’t want to share him with anybody during that time.

  Perverse, right?

  Maybe I’m just a lot more traditional than I thought.

  His face sets. “I’m not having sex with other women while we’re married. I told you I wouldn’t do anything to humiliate you.”

  “But you’re really willing to forego sex altogether for that long?”
/>
  His eyebrows hit his spectacularly great hairline. “Hey, whoa. I just said other women. What’s this altogether stuff?”

  His tone is entirely too light, and amusement gleams in his eyes. I have no doubt he’s enjoying himself.

  “Ryder…”

  “Paige.” He angles my face and presses a kiss on my forehead. The deliberate motion is an exact repeat of last night. The way our heads and torsos are set is the same. He doesn’t linger any longer than he did before.

  And—again—it leaves nothing but a knot of dissatisfaction in my chest. Last night, even as I lay in darkness and told myself how smart and strong I was, the baser part of me called me a hundred kinds of name, most of which were synonyms for stupid. If I had half the sense god gave a hummingbird, I would’ve ripped his clothes off and had my way with him. After all, we were in private, I had his ring on my finger, and he looked positively divine.

  “You’ll get the lawyer Samantha recommended, and I’ll provide you with everything you need”—his fingertips stroke my cheek, making my thoughts scatter—“while we’re married.”

  “It’s so unprofessional,” I breathe out the shaky words.

  “Marriage isn’t supposed to be professional. We’re going to put on a show, remember? That means it’s got to look real.”

  His warm breath fans at the corner of my mouth. I feel like I’m sinking into a pool of thick honey. I lick my lower lip, recalling our kiss after he put the ring on my finger. It set every nerve in my body on edge, like he put a live wire on my bare skin. I’ve never felt anything like it, not even during the best sex with my previous boyfriends.

  “Then the ten million in alimony is entirely out of the question,” I whisper.

  “I can’t not give you anything. It’d be grossly unfair. And your fancy lawyer’s going to object. Mark my words.”

  “I’m a modern woman. I can earn my own money.”

  “Modern, huh?” His gaze drops to my mouth…then to my cleavage, where my grandmother’s pendant rests. He makes eye contact with me. “Since you seem so set against money, how about something else?”

  “Like what? Property? Stock options? It’s the sa—”

  “Sexual pleasure.”

  My lips part, but nothing comes out of my mouth. His thumb brushes over my wrist. My pulse leaps, the air in my lungs shudders.

  It’s the last thing I expected him to say.

  “Sex has been used for payment for a long time…although, traditionally, it’s been women providing it to men. But hey, like you said…it’s modern times.”

  “Are you talking about having intercourse with me?” I force a laugh—and it is forced, because hot anticipation is making it hard to breathe. “Sounds like it’s more about you than me.”

  “If that’s what gives you pleasure, sure, but otherwise no. I said sexual pleasure, Paige. It’s all about you.”

  I’m so tempted. It’s like he’s offering some kind of Faustian, all-you-can-eat sex cupcakes. And this time, they’re not behind some shop window. No barriers between us at all, just this stunning specimen of man wanting to pleasure me in any way I want.

  Except it’s crazy.

  Needing some distance, I break eye contact. My gaze falls on the prenup on the table. “Are you going to put that in there?” I ask, my mouth on auto-pilot, as my face flames at the idea.

  “No.” Ryder presses his mouth against my neck, his lips searingly hot. “Unless you want to?”

  My eyes roll up toward the ceiling. “No,” I whisper breathlessly.

  A finger traces my spine, sending tingles all the way to the tips of my toes. I can’t think when he does that, when he moves his mouth against the pulse at my neck.

  I dig my hands into his hair. My body’s primed from pent-up need, and I crave him like an alcoholic craves a drink.

  He traces every line, every curve on my body—from the base of my skull, down my back, shoulders and arms and waist and thighs…all the way down to my ankles. He doesn’t just focus on the usual erogenous suspects. No, he purposely goes around them, trying to discover other, less obvious—but still oh so good—spots.

  I suddenly feel completely, vibrantly alive. I never knew I had so many sensitive places on my body.

  Everywhere he touches, there is a jolt of electricity that ends between my legs. Restlessness prickles along my skin, and I angle my face so I can kiss him, devour him the way I need to. I gasp when his fingers brush against the delicate skin behind my knees. He pulls back, gives me a devilish smile and takes one of my hands. Spreading my fingers, he lowers his head and licks the webbing between my middle and ring finger. His eyes never leave mine.

  My nipples tighten and become two sharp points. They ache, and I realize in the back of my mind that it’s been a long time since they’ve been loved. A shame too, since I think they’re my best assets.

  Ryder runs his large hands up my sides. My heart beats in an erratic staccato. He’s so close…so close…

  My breasts grow heavy and tingle until they almost hurt.

  Finally he closes his hand over one. His mouth muffles my throaty groan. The pleasure sizzling through my body seems to push out all the air in my lungs. I’m light-headed, drunk on sensory delight.

  I arch my back, begging for more.

  His palm is hot even through my bra and top. I resent them for getting in the way. I want to feel his bare skin there as he fondles the bountiful flesh. His thumb brushes over my beaded nipple, and I bite my lip to contain a cry.

  “You’re so sensitive.” Ryder’s hot murmur caresses my ear.

  “Please,” I whisper, clutching him.

  He can give me so much more than this. Anticipation thickens my blood.

  “We should make you come before Samantha returns.”

  The mention of the infamous attorney yanks me out of my sensual haze. But it takes no time at all before I’m sucked back in because he glides his hand between my legs. He breathes out roughly as his fingers graze over my panties. They’re soaked through.

  “Fuck, you’re hot.”

  Somehow, his finger finds just the right spot. He circles it. I see stars, and air shudders in my lungs and throat.

  He pulls my panties off me, his hands jerky and impatient. I don’t care. Desire cuts into me painfully, and only he can give me the relief I desperately need.

  “Brace yourself,” he growls.

  As soon as I obey, he’s on his knees, pushing my skirt up, gripping my hips. He kisses me on the inner thighs, and excitement squeezes my gut in a brutal grip. If he doesn’t put his mouth over my pussy, I’m going to—

  His lips close over my clit.

  One strong tremor after another runs through me, and every coherent thought vanishes. All I can do is feel as he licks and sucks and laps me up.

  My toes curl. I’m so hot, even the soles of my feet seem to be on fire. His tongue is pure magic, driving me relentlessly toward a climax.

  A start of an orgasm burns through me, all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I’m very close, and I clutch him, stunned at how fast I can peak. It usually takes me forever.

  I have no time to dwell on that. He thrusts two thick fingers inside me, curling them just so to hit my G-spot as he pulls my clit hard into his mouth and flicks his tongue over the nub. His free hand reaches upward and pinches a nipple with enough force to almost hurt, but that sharp pain-pleasure is just what I need.

  A mind-incinerating climax slams through me, and I shove a fist against my mouth to muffle my scream. My back bends like a slinky, and I literally can’t breathe.

  He keeps going, his hands and mouth working together in an Olympian display of erotic coordination. I hurtle to another peak and shatter all over again.

  I don’t know how long I lie on the desk, shaking in aftershock. Ryder presses a kiss on my delicate swollen folds. When he looks up, his mouth is wet. He licks his lips.

  “Yummy.”

  A wicked smile curves his clever mouth. Somethin
g warm, soft and gooey spreads through me, and I feel absolutely marvelous. I should be scandalized that he made me come so swiftly—and in his lawyer’s conference room, no less—but I can’t bring myself to care.

  Nobody’s ever taken me to such an incredible height before. Sure, I’ve had orgasms, but this…this was amazing. I don’t know if my exes didn’t have good technique, or didn’t care enough to bother, or if it was just a lack of chemistry or…something. But holy cow. Ryder can make me wet with just a heated look, like the one he’s giving me right now.

  He hasn’t come yet. I start to get up. I want to make him feel as good as he made me.

  Brisk knocks snap me back to reality. “Are you finished?” Samantha says on the other side of the door.

  I gasp. I still have my skirt around my waist, and my panties are on the floor.

  Ryder shoves them into his back pocket and helps me up. “One moment!” I smooth my skirt down my legs and run my hand over my hair. My bun is ruined. I have no idea when that happened.

  There’s no time to fix it, so I pull all the pins out and let my hair hang over my shoulder.

  “Come on in,” Ryder calls, as soon as we’re both back in our seats.

  Samantha walks in. If she notices the change in my hair, she doesn’t give any sign. “So.”

  “We’re going to rethink the alimony,” Ryder says.

  “You are? How?”

  “To reduce the money,” I say. “I mean, um, not having all that money stuff.”

  Confusion clouds her otherwise sharp gaze. “Whose idea is this?”

  “Mine,” I say.

  Samantha’s gaze flicks back and forth between Ryder and me a couple of times. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing that I can think of right now,” Ryder says. “We’ll let you know once we have something more concrete.” He glances at me.

  I shake my head. “We’re good. Thanks.”

  Ryder and I gather our things and leave. Nobody can tell—I don’t think—but I feel like the baddest girl ever, walking commando with the slickness between my thighs. But it’s impossible to feel even a pinch of shame as my body buzzes with energy and a ridiculous sense of well-being.