Escape for Valentine's: Beauty and the Billionaire / Her One and Only Valentine / The Girl Next Door

“Kristy? It’s me. I really need to talk to you. I’ll try again in a few minutes. Make sure you pick up.”

What to do now? She needed Hunter out of the way. She needed Hunter … asleep.

Okay, this was going to be tricky. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood for anything remotely quick.

She exited the bathroom, and was pulled immediately into his arms, engulfed in a major hug, peppered with kisses that under any other circumstances would have been erotic and totally arousing.

“Uh, Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m … not …”

He pulled back. “Something wrong?”

“I’m still woozy from the drinks,” she lied.

His eyes glowed pewter as he waggled his eyebrows. “You maybe need to lie down?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean yes. I mean.” She hit him with the most contrite expression she could muster. “Can we wait until morning?”

His gaze grew concerned. “That bad?”

She nodded. It was worse, only not in the way he was imagining.

“Come on, then.” He led her to the bed, pushing aside the comforter and tucking her in.

He slipped under the covers beside her and spooned their bodies together. He kissed the back of her neck, smoothing her hair. “Sleep,” he muttered.

She nodded miserably, and pretended to do just that.

Half an hour later, his breathing was deep and even. Engulfed in his warmth, she was struggling to stay awake herself. She didn’t dare wait any longer.

She cautiously slipped from the bed, snagged her phone, and tiptoed into the bathroom.

She tried Kristy again, still coming up with voice mail.

“Kristy?” she whispered harshly. “You have to call me. I’m sleeping with my phone on vibrate. Wake me up!”

Then she clicked it off, forced herself to swallow her panic, took a drink of water to combat her dry throat, and headed back to bed.

“You okay?” Hunter mumbled as she climbed back in.

“Thirsty,” she responded guiltily as he drew her against him.

“You’ll be better in the morning,” he assured her with a kiss.

She’d be better when Kristy called and was sworn to temporary secrecy. That’s when she’d be better.

Sinclair awoke to Hunter’s broad hand on her breast. His lips were kissing her neck, and his hardened body was pressed against her backside.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear.

She smiled. “Morning.”

He caressed her nipple, sending sparks of desire to her brain. His free hand trailed along her belly. She gasped, the warmth of arousal swirling and gathering within her.

“I’ve been waiting,” he rumbled. “You slept too long.”

“Sorry.”

“Make it up to me.” His hand slipped to the moisture between her legs.

He flipped her onto her back.

“Right now,” he growled.

In answer, she kissed him hard.

A pounding sounded on the door, and someone shouted his name.

Hunter jerked back. “What the—?”

It took her a second to realize the person was pounding outside Hunter’s room.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, staring into her eyes. Then he jackknifed out of bed and stuffed his arms into the robe. He pushed the adjoining door shut behind him. Sinclair sat up, shaking out the cobwebs.

She felt a lump under her thigh, and realized it was her phone. Flipping it open, she quickly checked for a return call from Kristy.

Nothing.

The voices rose in the room next door, drawing Sinclair’s attention.

“—be so freaking reckless and impulsive!”

It was Jack’s voice, and Sinclair was afraid she might throw up.

“We have talked and talked about this,” came another gravelly voice. It had to be Cleveland.

The family knew. They were here. And they were angry. And it was all her fault. Sinclair wrapped her arms around her stomach and scrunched her eyes shut tight.

At first, Hunter was too shocked to react.

He’d gone from Sinclair, soft and plaint in his arms, to his grandfather’s harsh wrath in the space of thirty seconds. His brain and his hormones needed time to catch up.

“I can give you the prospectus,” he told them. “The financials and the appraisals.”

“You can bet your ass you’ll be giving us the prospectus, the financials and the appraisals,” shouted Gramps.