Billionaire Unmasked: The Billionaire's Obsession ~ Jason Page 10

  In addition, her mind-boggling Jekyll-and-Hyde attitude about sex drove him completely insane.

  She wanted him.

  She responded to him.

  She looked at him with fire and heat in her eyes.

  He could bring her to an incredible climax with his mouth.

  Still, he couldn’t fuck her. What. The. Hell? Something was happening with Hope, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was that stopped her from letting go of her inhibitions. She wasn’t a virgin, so her hesitation wasn’t caused by a lack of experience.

  It was going to be up to him to show her how incredible it could be between the two of them. Hopefully soon, before his dick shattered from constantly being as hard as a rock.

  Worse, he could feel her tension, her needs, and it made him almost frenzied to make her come, hear her moan his name when she did.

  Jason wanted to turn the shower on full blast to the cold setting, but he didn’t because he was dragging Hope into the shower with him. He dropped his towel and divested her of hers before he stepped into the warm water and pulled her in behind him.

  Jesus. If he didn’t touch her soon, he would lose it. He watched as she reached for the liquid soap and lathered her body. Taking the bottle from her, he squeezed a generous amount into his hands and helped her.

  “Jason,” she said tremulously. Her eyes opened to give him a startled look as his fingers glided over her breasts.

  “I’m not screwing you, Hope. I’m just taking care of you,” he rasped. “Let me.”

  She released a small whimper as he moved her hands to her side and pulled her back against his front. He now had full access to her beautiful breasts. He cupped them, circled his thumbs around her nipples, and was gratified when they hardened beneath his fingers. His strokes and teasing brought them to sensitive peaks before he pinched them lightly between his fingers.

  “Jason.” Hope moaned and leaned her head back against his shoulder.

  Was there anything better than hearing her moan his name? Maybe being inside her while she screamed his name in climax, but he was content for the moment.

  Her body slick with soap, Jason’s hand glided down her abdomen smoothly, before he parted the slit in her flesh between her thighs to seek and then find her clit. She moaned the second he brushed his finger along the sensitized bundle of nerves. Her body shuddered as he used her own moist heat to drench his fingers and allowed them to easily slide over her clit. “You’re so wet, so hot,” he said harshly in her ear. He breathed heavily as he realized that she was so ready for him.

  “I need—” Her voice broke off in a tortured groan.

  At that moment, Jason needed nothing else but to satisfy her. She wanted. She needed. He’d be the man to deliver for her.

  One of his hands worked her nipples as his fingers increased the strength and speed of his strokes on her clit. Her body shook. “Come for me, Hope.”

  “I don’t think I can stop it,” she cried desperately.

  “No stopping. Let go.” Jason tormented her body without mercy. He was ready to feel her come apart for him.

  “Yes. Oh, God. Jason.” She panted; her body shook more, and she splintered in his arms.

  Mine. She’s mine.

  As she climaxed, Jason’s possessive instincts took hold, and he moved his hand from her breast and thrust two fingers into her channel, felt her muscles spasm and clench against them as she found her release. As he found his reward, her flesh tightened around his fingers and clutched at the digits as she came.

  Her horrified scream brought him back to reality.

  “No! Stop! No!” Hope thrashed against him, trying desperately to escape.

  Jason tore his hands away and turned her body until he could hold her against his chest. “Hope. Stop. It’s okay, sweetheart. What happened?”

  His heart pounded violently against his chest wall, and he clutched her body against his with a strong grip, unable to let her go.

  What the hell was happening? It was almost as if she were possessed: her nails clawed at his chest, and her screams echoed through the bathroom, a bloodcurdling howl of pain and terror that he knew he’d never forget. “Hope,” he bellowed over her screams. “Talk to me.”

  She calmed slowly, as though she were coming out of a daze. “Jason?” she sobbed.

  “It’s me, baby. It’s me.”

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” She put her face against his chest and wept.

  He held her just like that, losing track of time. His hand ran over her wet hair and back until she stopped sobbing. Jamming a hand against the shower controls, he stopped the water and stepped out of the cubicle. She stood in the shower, not saying a word, as he dried her off with a towel. He ran the towel briefly over his own wet skin before he discarded it. Then, he picked her up and carried her to bed.

  She shivered as he climbed in beside her, and he quickly brought her against him. “Do you want me to turn on the light?” he asked hoarsely, not sure what else he could do to help her. The room was dark, the shutters closed; only the light from the hallway gave the bedroom a very dim illumination.

  “No.” She threw her leg over his and almost climbed on top of his body. “Don’t leave me, Jason.”

  He released a tense breath and tightened his hold on her. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

  Jason’s decision was made right then and there: he would never go anywhere if Hope needed him.

  Protective instincts had flared the moment he’d heard her scream, nearly giving him heart failure. He didn’t know what had happened, but he’d figure it out. Right now, all that mattered was the woman in his arms. He needed her to feel safe again.

  He was awake a long time after she had fallen asleep, trying to will whatever demons that plagued her to go back to Hell. Eventually, after he was sure she slumbered peacefully in the shelter of his arms, Jason slept.

  Hope woke early the next morning. Her limbs were still entwined with Jason’s, his arms holding her as if he protected her.

  She slipped quietly out of the bed and got dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a forest green short-sleeved shirt. After brushing through the messy hair she hadn’t brushed out the night before, she scrounged through her makeup case until she found a clip to confine the wayward strands. She snatched her sneakers, her trusty Nikon and the case, and then snuck out of the bedroom just as the sun began to rise.

  Jason stayed peacefully asleep—thank God!—so she didn’t have to do an early morning confrontation. Last night had been humiliating, and she wasn’t sure how to explain herself to him. She’d thought she was over extreme reactions, finally done with the terror that had eaten her alive from the incident that had occurred over three years ago.

  I haven’t tried to have sex except for that night with Jason.

  She hadn’t, and maybe she shouldn’t be experimenting now. Jason could make her body fly apart…but only up to a certain point. After finally finding some peace, she wasn’t certain she should do anything to relive the experience that had shattered her life.

  She put on her tennis shoes—minus socks because she wasn’t going into the bedroom again to search for a pair—and went into the kitchen.

  Make coffee or not?

  She was useless without caffeine, but she didn’t want to linger, so she pulled a can of sugary soda loaded with caffeine from the fridge and, with a smile, grabbed one of the candy bars on the counter.

  He’s still a chocolate addict.

  She’d rarely seen Jason without something chocolate-covered in his hand when he was younger, and his habits obviously hadn’t changed. For some reason, she found that comforting. She smiled as she wondered whether he’d notice she’d snatched one of his Snickers bars. He’d always shared with her when he was younger, but he was pretty possessive about his chocolate.

  The door opened quietly, so she slipped outside and closed it softly behind her. With her camera pulled from its case, she slipped the strap around her
neck and quickly adjusted the lens to have it ready in case she ran across any wildlife. As she surveyed the area, she decided to follow what looked like a well-traveled path through the woods, and opened the soda and candy bar as she walked. The strap of the camera case was slung cross-body style to get it out of the way, and she kept walking so her legs didn’t have a chance to get cold. It had cooled off considerably during the night, as it always did at high altitude, but it would warm up as soon as the sun got higher and brighter.

  It didn’t take her long to finish the chocolate bar, and she swigged on her soda, waking up as she felt the sugar and caffeine kick in.

  Hope stopped occasionally to get shots of the mountains. The narrow path opened up into a grassy field. She froze as she saw the creek that ran down the middle; the most enormous bull moose she’d ever seen fed lazily along the water. Moving slowly, she watched for any signs of aggression as she shot pictures of the majestic animal with grizzled brown fur and the biggest rack of horns she’d ever seen. She knew the moose had spotted her, but the large mammal ignored her. Its only natural predator was the wolf, so the moose didn’t look too concerned about her, but she kept her distance, lined up shot after shot of the incredible creature as she adjusted her lens and the camera to get different angles.

  Her landscape photos and wildlife pictures had grown in demand, even though she was known for shooting extreme weather. As she took each photo with a relaxed sense of awe, Hope enjoyed every moment she spent with the glorious creature before it wandered away, back into the woods.

  “You’ll see elk and bear here sometimes, too.” A deep voice commented behind her. “It’s a popular watering hole for wildlife.”

  Hope whirled around. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest as she faced the voice, a man who was only a few feet away from her. With a hand to her chest, she told him breathlessly, “You scared me.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to scare the moose away,” he answered, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

  Hope gaped at him. The man was around Jason’s age, with gorgeous blond hair cut short and neat. He was dressed casual in jeans and a long-sleeved pullover, his feet in a very nice pair of hiking boots. He looked at the ground, but when his head rose to glance at her, Hope froze in utter shock. She recognized that face, that pair of smoky gray eyes framed by thick, gorgeous eyelashes. “C-Colt?”

  “Hello, H.L. Sinclair,” he responded with a weak grin. “We meet again.”

  Hope was speechless, astonished to see the man who she’d only met briefly, yet had played such an important role in her life. She couldn’t quite believe he actually stood in front of her. She closed her eyes and opened them again, but Colt still stood right in front of her.

  “How are you?” His expression grew shadowed.

  “I’m good. I can’t believe you’re here,” she answered slowly.

  “My real name is Tate Colter. I sort of belong here,” he answered teasingly.

  “You’re Tate Colter?”

  “Last time I checked,” he shot back jokingly. He held out his arms to her as he coaxed her with another small grin that uncovered an attractive dimple in his cheek. “Hug me. You know you want to.”

  “Oh. God.” Hope sprang at him and threw herself into his outstretched arms. “I never got to say thank you. I never saw you again.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hugged the man who had saved her life with a death grip around his neck. “Thank you, Colt. Thank you for everything you did for me.”

  He hugged her back and rocked her body slightly. “I was just doing my job, Hope. I wasn’t even sure you’d recognize me. You certainly didn’t a few days ago.”

  How could she not recognize Colt? He’d been her savior, and those beautiful gray eyes had been unforgettable. “I was really drunk when we came in,” she admitted. “Did I meet you here?” she asked, confused.

  “I flew you and Jason back here to Rocky Springs. I was with him in Vegas. You passed out before we landed, and we didn’t see each other until you were completely wasted.”

  “Not one of my finer moments,” she answered, disgruntled. She pulled back to look at him. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  “Most women are,” he told her mischievously.

  Hope smiled back at him. She couldn’t help it. Colt—or was it Tate?—had been cocky as hell, but she’d needed that confident assurance three years ago, had hung onto it with everything she had back then. “Tell me how a billionaire Colter ended up in Special Forces,” she requested curiously.

  “I’m a rebel,” he answered nonchalantly. “It probably happened much the same way as a wealthy Sinclair became an extreme weather photographer,” he teased. “My cabin is just over this hill. Want some coffee?”

  “Definitely,” she agreed gratefully and followed him as he let her go and led the way. A comfortable silence settled between them for a while, before Tate spoke. “I guess I’m as curious as you are,” Tate mused. “I’m wondering how a very wealthy Sinclair ends up traveling alone in a foreign country without protection. I never connected you with the Sinclairs. It’s a fairly common last name. And I never knew your first name.”

  “I didn’t want anyone to know.” She picked her way along a path that led uphill.

  “Does Jason know what happened?” Tate asked solemnly. “I recognized you when I saw you in Vegas, but I never said a word.”

  She stared at his wide back in front of her. “Thank you for not saying anything.”

  At the top of the hill, he turned around and took her hand to help her up a short, rocky incline. “I hacked into your computer when we got back to Rocky Springs,” he confessed, totally remorseless.

  “Why?” She looked at him quizzically as she stepped up beside him.

  “Because I could,” he said devilishly. “You need to buy better computer protection. I wanted to see what you’d been up to in case you didn’t recognize me. You went back to chasing storms.”

  She knew she should be angry because Colt had broken into her computer, but she couldn’t muster any anger. Hope nodded slowly. “I had to go back.”

  Tate nodded. “I understand. But I think you need to tell Jason. He was totally clueless, Hope. The guy married you. He cares enough to know. I only outed you about your career. He was going to find out anyway. But it’s not my place to tell him anything else, or even that we’ve met before. It’s your story to tell.”

  She followed as he strode toward a large home at the top of the hill. “He was drunk when he married me, and he just wants to get into my panties,” she told Colt, appalled as soon as the words came out of her mouth. She barely knew Colt, even though he’d been an important person in her life for a very brief time.

  Tate chuckled. “Here’s a newsflash for you, Hope: that’s what most men want. And they don’t need to marry a woman to get it. That’s not all that Sutherland wants.”

  “Colt, he said—”

  “He’s full of shit,” Tate said confidently. “And call me Tate. Colt was just my code name.”

  Hope stopped short as she got a good look at the home Tate was headed for. “This is your cabin?”

  He shrugged. “It is made out of logs.”

  Hope gaped, trying to take in the sheer size and design of Tate’s house. It was made of cedar logs and stone, with large pillars of cedar across the front of the home. Towering picture windows adorned the front of the house, probably giving an incredible view of the sunsets. It was at least two stories, probably three as she was fairly certain one of the sets of stairs led to a lower level. There was a garage connected with several doors, a section of the home that could probably store half a dozen vehicles. Strangely, the home was designed to fit into the wooded mountain setting, and even though it was enormous, it still managed to be welcoming rather than ostentatious. “It’s beautiful,” Hope said breathlessly. “Can I take pictures?”

  Tate waved his hand, and taking that as permission, Hope took several shots before she followed him along the stone path to the door.r />
  The inside of the house was just as stunning as the exterior: the entire first floor, open and spacious, boasted the same beamed, cathedral ceiling as the guesthouse. As she passed the living room, she noticed a lot of antique firefighting equipment and pictures prominently displayed. “You’re an antiques collector?”

  “Just firefighting stuff. One of my ancestors started Colter Equipment, a big producer of firefighter equipment and gear, and it’s one of the major manufacturers now. I like to collect the old pieces and advertising from the company. It’s a hobby. I’m a volunteer firefighter.”

  Hope smiled as she followed him into the kitchen, not the least bit surprised that Tate was active in helping his community. “The house is gorgeous.”

  “The kitchen is a waste,” Tate grumbled as he brewed her a single cup of coffee, and then started his own. “I don’t really use much except the microwave and the coffee maker.”

  Hope took a seat at the kitchen table as she looked appreciatively around the large, spacious kitchen with every modern convenience and decorated beautifully with granite countertops and cedar cupboards. She took the cup of coffee from him. “Too bad. It’s a cook’s dream.”

  Tate dropped some cream and sugar on the table before he grabbed his own coffee. He turned the slatted, wooden chair around and straddled it; his forearms rested on the table. “So are you really okay?”

  Hope shrugged. “For the most part…yes. I guess I still have some things that will never go away.”

  “I don’t think you can experience something like that and not have a few hang-ups,” Tate observed, his voice low and soothing. “What are you going to do about Jason? You should tell him, Hope. He knows about your career.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Thanks to you,” she chastised.

  “He would have found out anyway. Your portfolio was there. He isn’t stupid. He would have figured it out, even if I hadn’t helped him. You’re married to him, Hope. You need to tell him everything. The guy is crazy about you.”

  “He’s really not,” Hope denied. “He wanted to keep me from marrying a man who didn’t even exist.”