The Billionaire and I (Part Two) (3 page)

I did a quick sweep of the room and breathed a sigh of relief when there was no sign of a forgotten jacket or purse that would bring someone flying back down the hall. Crazy-that I was glad I could mark that off the list of reasons why hooking up here was a bad idea.

I turned my attention back to Jacob. Back to those soulful blue eyes that held me in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I felt more than beautiful; I felt treasured. More than desired; I felt needed. In his eyes, I saw that I was as vital to him as water. As air.

Yet, I felt completely naked despite the fact I was still fully clothed. I was an emotionally raw would. An exposed nerve. And even though this moment had ignited a passion in me that answered his call, I couldn’t resist ‘Leila-ing’ it up and making a joke to deflect how scared I really was.

“Catastrophe and impending doom turns you on?” I busied my nervous hands by gathering my things. Pretending that I didn’t notice Jacob’s advance until he was standing right beside me. It was impossible for me to ignore him when he was close enough that I could reach out and kiss him. Or reach out and feel how much he wanted me.

“Next, you’ll tell me that stocking up on canned goods and water for the zombie apocalypse is foreplay,” I kidded, my voice wavering at the end.

He put his hand over mine, dwarfing my hand in his own, but somehow, it just magnified the trembling. Jokes or no, there’d be no hiding my fears. But when I raised my chin, I saw that I wasn’t the only one that was struggling with this. Once, that peek behind the curtain at the man behind the name, behind the legs quaking hotness, would have only lasted seconds before his guard was back up. Not tonight. Tonight, Jacob let me see that despite the genes that made him damn near perfect, he was only human.

He released me with a bitter chuckle, perching on the edge of the conference room table. “You’d think that after kidnappings, sex trafficking, and a crime lord that I’m sure is just waiting to give us hell, an actress with a grudge would be a piece of cake.” His side profile was so static that he made me want to shake out my own limbs to alleviate the tension. “And maybe the reason I’m so leveled by all of this is selfishness. Or maybe it’s pride.” He pushed off from the table, taking a few steps like he had a destination in mind, but thought better of it. “All of this-Whitmore and Creighton-it’s my legacy. Before you, that legacy is what drove me and gave me purpose.” He glanced at me and light flickered across his chiseled features. “And then I met you...and my legacy changed. I don’t want to just be the man who innovated the world of public relations. I want to be the man that got to love and share his life with you.”

Aw, hell.

Tears pooled in my eyes, his words wrapping me up. Pulling me close. I could feel his drive for the company and his love for me.

“The idea of someone taking the reins and changing that legacy, twisting it-” He stopped short, like he hit a wall and refused to go any further. He switched gears. "Leila, watching you take charge tonight, fleshing out events that I know were painful for you and talking about still owing Rachel anything other than scorn-"

His words caught in his throat and the tears that had gathered in my eyes trickled down my cheeks. He shed no tears; he was still my stoic Jacob, but the emotion was clear in his words. In his eyes.

"That heart of yours is beautiful and kind and precious to me. And I just can't wait until we get home to make love to you." The passion in his voice became decidedly less sweet, darkening with carnal desire. "I'm going to strip every piece of clothing you're wearing from your body, then I'm going to devour you."

He advanced towards me with such raw love and passion burning in his eyes that I met him halfway. I ran my fingertips up his forearms and rippling biceps, resting both hands on his shoulders.

"Make love to me, Jacob."

His eyebrows lifted and I knew why. He gave the commands. I dropped my hands, ready to backtrack, but he pressed a finger against my lips, quieting the apology. He replaced the finger with his mouth. He kissed me the way he fucked me; with abandon, with hunger, with lust. I threw my arms back up, pressing my body into his while I returned the kiss and then some. My tongue danced around his, our teeth clanging together because we were reckless. All I could taste was that sweet nectar that was Jacob. And I wanted more.

I stepped back, panting, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair and pulled me back into him. A gasp spilled from my lips just as he tugged my sweater up and over my head. He flung the thing over his shoulder, pausing to drink in my breasts. My bra was just a black t-shirt thing that I threw on, but he looked at me like I was the sexiest woman alive.

He hooked my right bra strap, scooping it over my shoulder, then my left. I blushed at the Bardot thing I had going on, my round breasts nearly spilling from the cups.

"Do you know how utterly beautiful you are?"

The heat magnified in my cheeks and I bit my lip, still completely enamored, and for the briefest moment, mystified that he was looking at me the way I looked at him.

Just in case I needed proof, needed to see the beauty with my own eyes, he unhooked my bra, releasing my breasts. My chest rose and fell as he caressed my curves with his eyes. He lifted the right in his palm, then the left, slowly circling my nipple until my peaks were aching. He dropped to his knees and took my nipple into his mouth, his tongue wet and powerful, whipping, swirling, flicking. I ran my fingers through his hair, swept up in the bliss.

But he was far from done. He raked his fingertips downward, peeling off my leggings, a moan erupting in the back of his throat when he revealed the curly tangle of my sex. Heart beating like a drum, I stepped out of my bottoms and barely had the time to put my feet back on the ground before he scooped me up like I weighed nothing at all. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, but it was unnecessary. He palmed my ass, his grip sure and absolute. He wouldn’t drop me. The only place I was going was right where he wanted me.

I grinned from ear to ear when he kicked the rolling chair at the head of the table out of the way, the leather seat zipping across the hardwood floor and slamming into the wall. He set me on the edge.

“Let me look at you,” he murmured as he ghosted his fingertips through the curls that bounced into my eyes.

He traced ever outline and I traced his. The eyes I could melt into, his regal nose, nostrils flaring with want. His lush lips that I knew first hand tasted like heaven and hell. Heaven because I just couldn’t get enough. Hell because I knew I’d give anything, everything for those lips.

He leaned in, head tilted, his breath mingling with my breath. “Your lips are fucking addicting, but I’m going to explode if I don’t taste another part of you.”

In a single movement, he snapped my knees apart. Eager and so freaking wet, I scooted closer to the edge and he guided me the last few inches until I felt him steadying me with one hand and stroking my erotic folds with the other.

“So wet for me,” he sighed, the ache in his voice resonating.

I propped myself up with one arm and used the other to reach for him, cradling his cheek. “I’m so hot for you, Jacob.” I already felt like I was teetering on the ledge, so consumed. One lick would probably eradicate all control and discipline. “I know I’m supposed to ask for permission-”

“I’m giving you permission right now. Lose yourself.” His eyes sparkled deliciously. “Come...I want to taste your pleasure.”

I laid back on the table, barely even noticing that a pen was pressed against my lower back. When his tongue slipped inside me, I didn’t even notice we were in a conference room. There was only his tongue.

I shook as he focused on my swollen bundle of nerves, his fingertips digging into my hips as he savored me. I rocked into his motions, the pleasure like some drug that I couldn’t get enough of. I got bold, lifting up on my elbows to watch his head rolling, pumping as he thrust his tongue inside me. I couldn’t keep up, collapsing against the table, every fiber of my being sparking like fireworks. All it took was adding a finger to the mix and I was lost. Trembling. Shaking like some internal earthquake had taken hold. My climax had me screaming. Literally screaming...and by the time I realized that we weren’t at home and anyone that happened to be on this floor or maybe even several floors above and below us could hear me, he was up.

The frenzy had gripped him too and he tore off his t-shirt. I started to sit up, wanting to rip off his pants too, but his words froze me in place.

“I can take care of this,” he said, the dark tones of lust in his voice savage and wild. “You slide that ass from the table and show me where you want me.”

Desire flowed from me like honey as I obeyed, bending over the table. Chest against the table, my legs spread. Showing him the wet, dripping place between my thighs. I wanted him inside me.

He stepped between my legs and I felt the thick, mushroom shaped tip of him dipping inside. Sampling me. Licking my juices.

My fingers curled against the table. I wasn’t too proud to beg.

“Jacob...
please
.”

“Tell me where you want me.” He teased me, drawing the tip of his cock up and down my heat. The deep, rawness of his voice told me he knew what I wanted; it was the same thing he wanted.

He needed me to say the words.

“I want you inside me,” I groaned. “I need you inside me, Jacob!”

He guided himself into my warmth, inch by throbbing inch until I was filled and overflowing with him.

We were tumbling, hurtling towards our climax.

Not just mine, or his.

Ours.

Sweat plastered me to the table and he pulled away from me. He playfully smacked my butt before he lifted me gently and pulled me into his arms. We stood there, naked and breathless, and even though all signs pointed to the contrary, I knew everything would be alright.

What we had was something so sacred, so wrapped up in history and beauty that no one and nothing could break us.

T
he first time I squared off with Rachel Laraby after her return, I was in a pantsuit. This time, I was wearing sweats.

While I did hear the
Rocky
themed music in my head as the cab drew closer to her high-rise apartment, I passed on the egg yolks and slabs of meat.

My coffee cup was drained and I fisted my cell phone, waiting for a last minute cancellation from her assistant. I wouldn't even put a 'Jk!' text past Rachel. But no notification dinged and I knew we were mere seconds from the Lofts at 1501, Rachel's home away from home in the city, when she wasn't partying it up at one of the five star hotels in Union Square.

I paid the fare and stepped out of the cab, raising my chin and straightening my spine like I wasn't intimidated.
As long as she doesn't know you're intimidated, you're good.

The lobby looked just like every other expensive apartment building downtown. Marble floors, surrealistic glass sculptures, paintings framed in ornate frames to remind you that this building was a very pricy work of art first, and a home second.

A group of twenty something's in last night's clothes were draped in the seating area to the right, shades on, phones in hand. The security guard eyes them warily from behind his desk on the left. Beneath a sign that read 'Lofts at 1501' a blonde haired woman chewed gum, eyes on her computer screen. With the steady flow of traffic, I was sure I could get through to the elevators that stretched down the corridor behind the reception desk, but I had a feeling I'd need some sort of residents only code or key to get upstairs.

Of course it would have been too much for Rachel to come down and meet me
. I scrolled to her number in my phone book and brought it to my ear just as a voice sounded off behind me.

"Oh my gosh—you must be Leila."

From the high pitched, airy tone I expected to whip around and see some socialite type with perfect hair, perfect clothes, and a perfectly fake smile on her face. I pivoted toward the stranger and instead, saw the most alternative looking girl I'd ever seen. From her eyebrow to her chin, just about everything that was pierceable on her face was pierced. I didn't know if it was because of her facial structure or the brightest green eyes I'd ever seen, but she was breathtakingly beautiful. It was a stunning contrast of pixie like, delicate features with metal hooks and jeweled studs. Her head was shaved, a dusting of white blonde peach fuzz contrasting with ebony colored eyebrows. Her arms and chest were colored with brilliant, technicolor tattoos. She was clad in a black crop top and overalls, but she projected a confidence that told me she could be in a paper bag and tomorrow, everyone would be rocking paper bags.

Just when I was considering chopping off all my hair and finding the nearest tattoo shop, she brought her pointer to her mouth and let out a giggle  like someone had just told her a joke. The way her emerald eyes flicked over my outfit and snidely returned to my face, it was clear that
I
was the joke.

"Wow,” she chuffed. “Rachel wasn't kidding about you at all."

Anger filled me instantly and I knew that if I couldn't keep it together long enough to get upstairs, then I was in for one hell of a morning. I wanted to wipe that smug grin from her face, but I settled for making a jab of my own. "Funny...she hasn't mentioned you at all."

I hit my mark and every visible inch of Starla's pale white skin turned red with indignation. "You might want to try being nice to me. I'm the only reason Rach agreed to meet with you."

"Oh honey," I said with faux concern, dropping my tone a few notches. Channeling that Southern, 'bless your heart' voice that my grandmother used when people were acting ignorant. "I'm glad I'm here, because this issue needs to be resolved—but I don't owe you a thing." I made a sweeping gesture towards the elevator. "Are we done here? I'd hate to make 'Rach' wait."

She stewed for a minute, running her tongue across her teeth and flashing another piece of metal, then she marched past me in a huff. I smiled to myself, following her in silence. It felt good standing up to a bully, but she was just a molehill compared to the mountain that was Rachel Laraby.