by Jolie Day
Seriously, that was a lot of information to process when I’d just opened my eyeballs—and she talked really fast. Was it too soon to ask for coffee? Probably. Sigh. “Um, yes, one or two times—well, rarely, only when I’m overly stressed, though.”
“Okay, but if you feel your dizziness increase, or if you start feeling sick, or your heartbeat becomes irregular, you should call immediately. I also recommend contacting your doctor to get that checked out, just to be on the safe side.”
When did I hit my head? I wondered, still feeling groggy. I wanted to ask the question, but I knew this woman wouldn’t be able to give me an answer. She hadn’t been there after all.
“Where am I?” I asked instead.
The woman seemed sympathetic to my state. “You’re at the Regal Heights Hotel.” I gave her a questioning expression—I’d never heard of the place. “You were picked up and brought here to safety. I’m a guest, and was down in the lobby when you were rushed in. I was informed that you were attacked about a block from the Sandmeier Museum.”
I nodded. “Yes. I work there as a waitress. Late shift. I was just trying to get home.”
The woman stood from her crouched position on the bed, brushing the canopy out of the way, and rose to her feet. “Well, try to take it easy. It’s best if you stay in bed for a few more hours.” She patted my arm. “Get a good night’s rest.”
“Thank you.” I watched as the woman took her leave out the polished oak door and closed it behind her.
I sighed, glancing around the room.
Everything was immaculately kept, but the room was mostly without decoration. There was a large closet directly across from the foot of the bed, and out of the corner of my eye, I took note of a crimson rug positioned on the floor. I wanted definitive answers, other than I was “just in some hotel.” I wanted to know who the man was, the biker who’d saved me last night. Would I ever see him again?
I took my time, slowly peeling the covers off my legs. Someone had dressed me in dry clothes. I now wore a lacy, long silken nightgown. I guessed it was nice of whoever had gotten me out of my drenched uniform I’d been wearing earlier. I had my panties on but wasn’t wearing a bra—I’d taken that sucker off and stuffed it in my purse before I left work. The underwire popped out earlier in my shift and had been poking me in the side-boob all damn day. Oh, God. Someone had seen my breasts. Awesome. See? All-around crap day. Well, at least I didn’t die…
I gradually slid my bare feet to the edge of the bed and rose. My head twinged with a slight ache, forcing a subtle pounding to settle across my hairline and around my ears.
I pulled my hair away from my shoulders and accidentally brushed against the band-aid near my temple. Oww! Don’t touch it, dummy. I stepped to the door and opened it, peeking out into the hall.
“The persistent type, aren’t you?” The voice startled me—it was deep and familiar.
I hadn’t expected anyone. Least of all him. I recognized the voice as belonging to the biker from earlier that night. I took stock of the man standing in front of me: white shirt and black leather pants. His powerful arms were folded against his chest. He was tall and extraordinarily well-built. I tried not to lick my lips. I failed.
“First, you walk past a shady alley in the middle of a rainstorm in the dead of night, and then you get out of bed without assistance, even after I’m sure Dr. Ward told you to stay put.”
I stepped further into the hallway. “Who undressed me?”
I was able to see him a bit better now and noticed his eyes. They were the color of a soul-piercing blue, and surprisingly kind, despite his rough appearance. He had a hard stare, but his face was remarkably handsome. He had a dimple in his chin (one I wanted to touch—down, girl), a long and thin nose and gently arching eyebrows.
He unfolded his arms as he looked me up and down, his eyes lingering for a millisecond on my breasts. “Dr. Ward. Your modesty is still intact.” He gave me a sexy half-grin. “Are you feeling better? You took a hit.”
“The doctor said the same thing, but I don’t remember it.” Thank God it was the doctor who’d undressed me and not “Mr. Tall Dark and Yummy.”
“That’s no surprise. You fainted. I’d say you might have a little memory loss—you had a rough night. I mean, it’s possible, but I’m no doctor. Don’t worry, though, I informed the cops. It’s best if you make a formal statement once you’re feeling better. Other than that, you didn’t miss anything major.” He gave me a mischievous smile and winked. “You still remember who I am.”
“That’s the thing, though, I don’t. I remember you scaring off those thugs, but I don’t know anything about you.”
“They’re probably a lot more than thugs. I’m Marcus Willingham.”
“Eleanor Rawson.” I was relieved to finally be able to put a name with his face. “Is this … do you live here?”
He shrugged. “Sort of.”
It certainly hadn’t seemed like a place for some rough and tough biker to live. “Who owns it?”
At this, Marcus dragged his gaze to mine and kept it there. “I do.”
I drew my brows together in a frown. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry, it’s just hard for me to pair this place with you.”
He chuckled. It was low and rich, and actually racked me with shivers. They weren’t from fear, but rather of interest. Marcus had a strange sort of magnetic feeling to him that made me want to step a little closer.
“Weren’t you ever told you can’t judge a book by its cover?”
The question should have embarrassed me, but I felt too out of sync with reality to really care at that moment whether I was being awkward in conversation or not. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m still just trying to get over the shock of what happened tonight.”
“Eleanor—”
I smiled. “Please, call me Ella.”
“Ella, we should get you back to bed.” He stepped to the door and rested his arm on my back to escort me inside. His touch sent a shiver of—Holy shit! Desire?—skating down my spine.
His manly scent was intoxicating.
Marcus kicked the door shut behind us. Despite still feeling disoriented, I was grateful for his strength. I was craving the man before me, but his strong arms held me in place. As intimidating as he was, there was something very (and I mean very) breathtaking about him.
Yep, that’s definitely desire for a man I just met. I’m in trouble.
“I should’ve asked my boss to give me a ride home,” I mumbled to break the uncomfortable silence and to clear my naughty thoughts. “Then I wouldn’t be here burdening you.”
He shook his head. “You’re not. Tomorrow, you’ll be good as new. For now, I want you to take it easy. Is there anything else you need?” His eyes pierced mine.
Oh, shit. Was he leaning in?
“To be honest, I want to … I mean … thank you.” I sounded like a bumbling idiot.
I felt weak. Oh, those blue eyes. I could get lost in them. So gorgeous and so very deep. For some reason, his gaze sent a hot sensation throughout my body, directly to my center, and I felt a tingle between my legs. God, what the hell is wrong with me? I wondered and wanted to slap myself silly. I hardly knew this man. I’d never in my life slept with a man on the first night, not to mention after, well, being mugged. I fought hard to understand what I was feeling—and why. Okay, so he was freaking panty-melting hot. And he had that ruggedness about him that made a girl want to swoon… But that only happened in movies, right? Nope. I was a goner. I began to feel light-headed, but not from “physical” weakness.
He brought his arms around me, holding me close to him, and I basked in the strength of his embrace and hardness of his chest. All the pent-up feelings, the excitement and stress, the fear and confusion fell from me.
I lifted my head, and in response, Marcus dipped his.
His presence was warm and inviting.
“You…” I began, feeling small and fragile under his stare.
“Pssst,”
Marcus whispered, tilting and lowering his head.
I closed my eyes.
His lips touched mine.
Our mouths melded together in the perfect dance. They were flawlessly formed for each other. Hell, the only thing I knew about this man was that he’d saved me from God only knew what, and that he owned this hotel. Part of that scared me a little, but then another part—a much larger part—was almost thrilled by the idea. Maybe it was my dark, inner love for danger. No, that wasn’t it. I wasn’t somebody who liked, let alone loved danger. If anything, I was usually a chicken where most men were concerned.
But why then was I wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and he reacted by pulling me closer to deepen the kiss. He held me tightly against him, staring at me. Before I knew it, he had us stumbling back to the bed. His eyes were fixed on me, like I was his prey, when he pushed me down to my back and onto the bed.
6 Weeks Later
Please, please, please, I thought, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. Be negative.
I sank onto the floor and wrapped my arms tightly around myself. The tiles beneath my bare feet had warmed by this point, and yet I still felt chilled to the bone. My eyebrows knitted together as I stared at the plastic stick balanced on the edge of the tub.
My stomach churned, and I felt another wave of nausea. Shutting my eyes, I pursed my lips and took several deep breaths through my nose until the sensation subsided.
One deep breath.
A second.
A third.
By the fourth, I was ready to pick up the stick.
My mind went blank as I stared at the plus sign. In a single instant, my life had changed forever.
I wasn’t sure how long I stared at the pregnancy test, but it was long enough to go from feeling nothing to everything at once. I was torn between bursting into tears and beaming with excitement.
Being a mom had always been on the list of things I wanted to accomplish in my life. I loved children—always had, and the idea of raising my own had been one of my dreams. Later. Much later in life.
Jacob would be thrilled. He was a good boyfriend—the nicest man I’d ever dated. He’d even brought up the possibility of getting married, even though we’d only officially started dating a month ago.
Yes, Jacob would be a good father.
Then, my smile faded as the memories of six weeks ago flooded to the surface.
“Don’t question it,” he whispered. “Let yourself go.”
I let myself give in to his delicate kisses and tender touches, relaxing on the bed. Marcus’s fingers slipped beneath my nightgown, trailing feather-light sensations across my stomach and around my hips. I shifted to allow him to remove the silky nightie, and he tossed it behind him.
He growled playfully and pushed me back to the bed.
I gasped as he peered down at me with a dangerous gaze. Slowly he ground himself against me, invoking another gasp from my throat.
Everything about him invaded my senses: his smell, his sounds, his touch…
His gaze had turned from playful to serious, and he rested his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place. He pressed heated kisses along my collarbone, trailing them between my full breasts. He stared down at me hungrily, and I felt defenseless and exposed beneath him. It filled my body with intense shudders of desire.
Marcus’s warm palms closed over my breasts, and his fingers clasped my nipples, his thumbs brushing them over and over. When he pinched them, I twitched and jumped under his touch.
It was almost too much to handle.
Our breath had grown heavier under the intensity of the moment, and the anticipation pounded against my ribcage. Marcus paused what he was doing and straightened his back. I watched as his chest rose and fell steadily. He set his fingers to my panties and tugged them down my legs. He exposed the sensitive flesh hidden between my tender folds and lowered his mouth to taste me.
“Oh, Marcus,” I gasped at his gentle licks and kisses against my clit. He soaked me quickly with his skilled movements. “I want you, Marcus.”
Even in the darkness of the hotel penthouse suite, I could see his smirk. I was caught up in the moment, my body feasting on and relishing the sensations that he was giving me. With every flick of his tongue, an electric tingle shot through my femininity and into my core. Within a minute, I was wet with want and pounding on the inside, longing to be filled.
Marcus leaned upward, removed his shirt in one fluid motion, and pressed his thumbs to the button of his pants, popping it open. He unzipped and pushed them down his thighs. His erection stood proudly from his body as he revealed himself, and I felt the throbbing in my center grow stronger as I gazed at his size. Marcus positioned himself between my legs, and I barely felt his tip against my entrance.
Marcus pushed himself inside me. He was thick, and he stretched me to the point of pain, but it was fleeting. I tipped my head back and moaned from the movement.
Marcus groaned from my tightness, and he wrapped one hand around the back of my head to support it. He rocked his hips steadily, sliding in and out of me.
“You’re mine,” he whispered.
“Ooo…ooo…yes,” I gasped.
The sensations were out of this world, and I relaxed my body and let him take me. I whimpered his name and fought to cling to him. The throbbing inside me hurt but still felt wonderful, and it was as if my body couldn’t get enough.
“Oh, my God,” I moaned, head falling back against the mattress.
He withdrew slightly, only to thrust back in all the way. “Not quite, but close.”
I giggled as we rocked together.
He penetrated me again and again, reaching as deep as he possibly could. My giggle turned into a startled cry, but it was of pure pleasure. I watched as his hard length entered me again and again, his hips working faster than they had before. His thrusts grew swifter, and I opened my mouth to cry out again, but instead, my scream was silent. My core clenched around his thickness, and before I could tell him to hold off or slow down, my mind exploded with stars, and my body tightened in an earth-shattering orgasm. My toes curled, and I tumbled into oblivion, clinging to him as if my life depended on it.
He kept going, kept pounding into me, pulling back so he could look me in the eye. Even when he filled me with his warmth, he kept staring at me as though I was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen…
It all seemed like a dream.
A wonderful, sensual dream that still haunted me. Even after all this time, I could still feel his touch. Even so, the memory of that night served as a reminder of something far more important than a one-night stand.
I should have been more careful. I should have waited for my body to adjust to my new birth control. The nausea was back. I barely managed to lift the toilet seat before my breakfast made a spectacular reappearance.
Too late now…
With a deep sigh, I let the test fall to the floor. Even though there was only a small chance, I knew the baby wasn’t Jacob’s.
I did the math, even double- and triple-checked.
No. The baby was Marcus’s.
I sighed.
I knew what I had to do, but it wasn’t going to be easy. I couldn’t “not” tell Marcus he was going to be a daddy. I had to find a pair of big girl panties around here somewhere and just call him. This was not a conversation I was looking forward to. I mean, what was I supposed to say, “Hey, it’s me, Ella. You remember me? That girl you saved and then we had…” No, that sucked ass. I couldn’t say that. Shit. I just needed to be an adult and do this. I could do this.
I stood from the bathroom floor, washed my mouth out, and went to my bedroom in search of my phone. While heaving my breakfast, I’d missed a call from Jacob. Damn it. How was I going to tell him I was pregnant with somebody else’s baby? I’d think about that afterward. Not now.
I scrolled through my contacts and found Marcus’s number. When I dialed, an older woman answered, but she sounded like a secretary. Had he g
iven me his office number? Dick. Even so, I asked to speak with him.
“Mr. Willingham is not available at the moment. May I take a message?”
“Yes. Please tell him Ella Rawson called, and he needs to call me back. 555-4367. It’s urgent.”
“I’ll be sure to do that, Emma.”
“No, my name is Ella, it’s 555-4367, again, 55—”
“There is no need for you to repeat it. I’ll ensure he receives your message, Emma.”
“It’s Ell—”
And she hung up on me. What a bitch.
Next day, I called again. And waited. And called again.
I waited two weeks. The real problem was, he’d never returned my calls. Clearly, I’d just been another notch on his belt. When I didn’t hear back from him, I’d sworn to myself that I would never see Marcus Willingham again. Sure, he’d saved me, protected me—and that only made it worse. But I knew I had to move on, as hurtful as it was. It had to be that way, because honestly, there really was no future for us, not that I could see. Marcus Willingham had, as I soon found out, a reputation stoked by the press and city gossip (yes, I snooped and stalked him a bit on the Internet), as an ex MC gang member, a bad boy, and a player. He had never made an effort to deny the rumors and, in fact, our “encounter” only served to show me how true they were.
In addition, the Willinghams were one of the most powerful families in the city. Between that and Marcus’s reputation, I decided I wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. I was sure he’d already forgotten my name. Just as I would try to forget his. This baby wouldn’t change my mind.
…
End of the sneak peek.
Grab Billionaire Baby DADDY on Amazon.
