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Home > Billionaire Unmasked ~ Jason (Billionaire's Obsession #6)(4)

Billionaire Unmasked ~ Jason (Billionaire's Obsession #6)(4)
Author: J.S. Scott

I’m just that pathetic and desperate to have her in my bed.

What the hell was happening to him? He could argue with himself forever, rationalize the reasons he’d done what he did, but it all came down to selfishness. He wanted Hope.

What the hell does it matter? It’s not like I’m keeping her forever. We’re going to have sex every day, every hour, until we’re both satisfied and tired of each other. When I know she isn’t going to marry the loser, and I have her out of my system, we can end this little unplanned vacation.

Jason scowled; his mind and body rebelled at that thought for some reason. His possessive instincts surged through his body as he gazed at her, so innocent and vulnerable as she slept.

Mine.

Now that he knew some of her secrets and was aware of how she’d lied to everyone to keep them, he felt even more protective of her, needed to keep her safe, even though he was so angry he wanted to wake her up and shake her to tell him the whole truth. And why she’d lied.

He forced himself not to look at Hope anymore, shucked off his pants and shirt and closed the shutters on the windows to dim the light. It was late in the afternoon, but the room was still bright.

He climbed into the bed beside her and smiled as he wondered whether she made that delicate snoring sound when she wasn’t intoxicated. It was actually kind of…sexy.

She moaned and rolled over on her side. Her hands immediately reached for him and she draped her body over his like a heat-seeking missile. “Jason,” she whispered with a low, sleepy voice full of intense longing.

She wasn’t awake, so he wondered how she knew it was him and not her fiancé.

She’s searching for me in her bed.

The fact that she looked for him, sought him out subconsciously, hit him in the gut like a sucker punch. He wrapped his arms around her protectively.

“You’ve got a lot to answer for, woman,” he whispered roughly. His eyes closed, and he felt as if Hope was finally exactly where she was supposed to be. His dick was hard, but he was content not to act on that. Right now, it was enough to know she was here, and that he might finally get free of his long, horny preoccupation with her.

Not wanting to think about later, and with Hope’s warm body half covering his, he closed his eyes and slept.

Chapter 2

Hope woke up slowly. Her head pounded as if someone slung a hammer at her skull. Her stomach roiled with nausea. The light hurt her eyes and she closed them again; one hand went to her aching head and the other to her rebellious stomach.

What the hell had happened?

Desperate to use the bathroom—her bladder felt as if it was about to explode—she opened her eyes carefully to let the light seep in gradually.

Oh, shit.

Eventually, her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she became aware of a very large, very warm body next to hers. She jerked her head toward the form lying beside her¸ and moaned from the pain of moving so quickly and the exact identity of the unyielding mass of muscle next to her.

Jason?

Where in the hell am I?

Hope inched out of the bed slowly, determined to find the bathroom. She didn’t have to look far. There was one attached to this bedroom, so close that she could see it. As she sat up on the edge of the bed, her head pounding, the short distance to the visible toilet across the room seemed like miles in her current condition.

Get up. Get there before you embarrass yourself.

“Need help?”

Hope flinched at the low, smooth baritone. While it was soft and gentle, right now, to her aching head, it sounded as if Jason screamed at her. “No,” she responded, embarrassed, as her eyes focused on those awesome abs right in front of her. He’d gotten out of bed and stood in front of her without her even noticing. Jason was in a pair of navy boxer briefs and nothing else. Mortified, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

Without a word, Jason picked her up and carted her to the bathroom, lowered her feet gently to the floor before he exited and closed the door without a word.

Thank God!

Hope took care of her body’s urgent needs and managed to make it to the vanity, which she used to prop herself up as she washed her hands. Her head still spun. As she stood straight again, the room tilted.

A large, masculine arm popped through the door and dropped a modest nightgown into the bathroom. She stared at it, puddled on the floor, before she shakily sat herself on the toilet seat lid and reached for it. Taking off everything except her underwear, she lowered it over her head.

Her mouth as dry as the desert, she reached toward the vanity and grabbed one of the upside-down cups and filled it with water, not really caring whether the cup was clean or not. It was upside down, so she assumed it was unused. She drank the water slowly as she eyed the container full of packaged, new toothbrushes and the tube of toothpaste beside the sink. Putting one of them to use, she quickly cleaned her teeth, rinsed and then drank more water. Had she gotten sick? Right now, nothing made sense in her fuzzy brain except for the fact that she felt like crap.

Jason eased the door open, silently scooped her up, and took her back to the bed. After he handed her some pills that looked like ibuprofen, he gave her a bottle of Gatorade.

“Take those and have something to eat. You’ll feel better,” he said quietly.

She took the pills and swallowed them down with the sports drink, eying the tray in front of her dubiously. It was only a few slices of toast, but her stomach revolted at the thought of actually eating. “I don’t think I can eat,” she croaked. “Where are we?”

Jason reached for the toast, broke off a small piece, and held it to her mouth. “You need to get something in your stomach. Don’t you remember Vegas?”

Vegas.

Meeting up with Jason by accident.

Panic.

Drinks.

More panic.

More drinks.

She obediently opened her mouth and absently took the bite Jason offered, and tried to sort out all of her jumbled thoughts as she chewed. The memories were foggy now, but she remembered how nervous she’d been, afraid Jason would discover the truth. She’d used alcohol for liquid courage, something she’d never done before in her entire life. She was a light drinker, careful because her father had been a raging alcoholic. Jason ridiculously fed her by hand and she accepted another piece of toast distractedly.

After she swallowed, she asked hesitantly, “Am I sick?”

“Hangover,” Jason said mildly. “You were pretty wasted.”

She’d never had a hangover, never drank enough to experience one. Right then and there, she swore she’d never have another one. She felt as if she’d been chewed up and spit out of a giant meat grinder. “I don’t usually drink that much,” she whispered softly.

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