Girl Meets Billionaire

by Aubrey, Brenna

And then he backed toward the bed, tugging me along with him. I stepped out of my shoes. My nerves drew taut like harp strings. His eyes were flame and frost from one moment to the next—anger, passion, pure lust.

  “I’m going to show you what we can be like together.”

  He pulled me to him again and we kissed and my body responded to the sensual promise in those words. I trembled. “You’ll hate yourself if you do this.”

  “I’ll hate myself more if I don’t,” he said between clenched teeth.

  He turned and laid me gently on the bed. Wearing nothing but panties, I looked up at him, feeling vulnerable as his burning eyes raked over me. They scorched me like errant embers from a bonfire and he made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and losing it, along with his pants.

  He freed his erection from his underwear and he was naked. My breathing slowed. He was beautiful—every developed crease, every curve of firm, packed muscle. His ready shaft, a potent reminder of his maleness.

  “Take off your underwear,” he said. And slowly, my eyes locked on his, I did. Somewhere in the back of my mind I doubted where this was appearing to go. We had been here before—several times—and he had always pulled away, always stopped himself with an iron grip on his self-control. It would happen again, despite that ragged wildness I saw deep in his black eyes. He’d fight for control and he’d win. And he’d do nothing he’d regret.

  Under his scrutiny, my nipples came to hard points and damp heat pooled between my legs. Slowly, he lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed, running an almost reverential hand over my breasts, my belly, my thighs, my sex. “So beautiful, Emilia. You are so damn beautiful.”

  I closed my eyes. I’d just been thinking the same about him. “Thank you.”

  He took a deep breath and spoke the words haltingly, as if some part of him still fought and struggled to keep them inside. “If you tell me right now you don’t want it, we won’t do this.”

  My gaze fixed on his, unwavering. It was time to tell the truth. The consequences be damned. “I want this, Adam. Not because of money, and not because anyone is making me. I want it because I want it.”

  He moved so fast it was almost a blur. He was on top of me in seconds holding my arms against the mattress as his body pressed me down. His mouth was on mine again, but at that moment, I realized it wasn’t going to be long. He wouldn’t spend another second on foreplay because we’d been engaging in the most frustrating game of foreplay for a month.

  He nudged my knees apart and I spread them for him. He stared into my eyes, just like he’d said he would. I’m going to watch your face when you take it in. And in one sure, confident move, without any more hesitation, he pushed himself inside me and there was nothing slow about it. His body was so hot, as if he was on fire.

  I tried not to stiffen from the sharp pain I felt as he penetrated me. He saw my face, my widening eyes. He felt me tense underneath him, but he didn’t pull back. He pushed in without letting up, as if once having decided to travel down this path, he wouldn’t turn away from it.

  Soon he’d eased himself all the way in and he paused, still watching me closely. “You all right?”

  I didn’t speak, just nodded. His hands gripped mine, and our fingers entwined. His mouth connected with mine, our tongues twisting around each other. And he began to move. I’ll admit, there was more than a little pain. He felt very big inside me as my body stretched around him. But as he maintained his gentle rhythm, there was something else there. A deep, fulfilling pleasure. A feeling of ultimate connection. Not just at the juncture of our bodies but our hands, our mouths. I’d never felt physically a part of someone else as much as I did at this moment.

  And the erotic slide of him deep inside me, with each thrust, spoke of possession and belonging. He possessed me and belonged to me. I did the same.

  Soon his movements came faster, more urgently, his eyes closed in concentration. He released my hands, rising up on his elbows, watching me again. The changed angle relieved some of the pressure, and sharp, breath-stealing pleasure shot through me, erasing the discomfort.

  I found myself urging Adam to continue doing what he was doing, telling him how good it felt. When I moaned his name, it seemed to put him over the edge. He plunged into me, pushing his hips flush against mine, penetrating deeper than before. I caught my breath, somewhere on the threshold of pleasure and pain. He stopped, his breath coming so fast it was difficult for him to speak. “I’m not coming until you do.”

  He reared up so that he was on his knees and continued. I gasped. His strokes came fast and steady, as he recognized that I was close. I squeezed my eyes closed, concentrating on that wave of ecstasy rising up inside me. The only thing in my awareness at that moment was the feel of Adam’s shaft sliding inside me.

  My back arched off the bed and I was coming in body-convulsing waves of sheer gratification. Only a few more strokes and Adam was coming, too, pushing himself as deep as he could go. His orgasm tore through me as if it was my own.

  He lay on me for a minute or two after it was done. I wrapped my legs around him, now cherishing the feel of him inside me. When his eyes finally opened, he looked into mine and lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me again.

  We lay in each other’s embrace for long, quiet moments before I finally cleared my throat. “I think I should get up and shower.”

  He nodded, scooting aside to allow me to rise. When we left the bed, I noticed he’d stopped to stare at the bedspread. Looking back, I saw a small bloodstain there. A strange look crossed his face and he ran a hand through his hair, then reached out and yanked the counterpane off the bed, tossing it into the corner. Minutes later, he joined me in the shower. He was still strangely quiet and we both had receded into our own worlds. No fun scrubbing each other this time.

  We’d crossed a threshold we could never uncross. We’d taken a step that could never be untaken—that small evidence of a permanent change in my body was also evidence of a change in us. In who we were, both to ourselves and to each other.

  Adam washed quickly and got out, wrapping a towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom. But I lingered, soaping myself slowly, focusing on the soreness between my legs, examining my own feelings. I was different now. It was just a bit of skin, like I’d always imagined. But when I’d imagined how it would be, I’d always thought nothing would change. Feelings wouldn’t change.

  But this was different. These growing feelings for Adam were the biggest reason. No, Mia. Stupid girl. I swallowed a sob in the shower as that realization rose up in me. I could love Adam. But I wouldn’t allow it because it went against everything I’d stood for—for so long. I was Mia, the girl who stayed single by choice. The woman who would always take care of herself, because I didn’t need anyone to save me. I saved myself.

  The thought of never seeing him after this weekend cut a deep and painful trench into me. But I knew it had to happen—and it had to happen before these feelings made me dependent on him. A wave of sudden pain lanced through me like a lightning bolt. The feelings would pass. They were fleeting, I reminded myself. I would stand firm to my decision.

  And after all, what the hell were we doing here? He didn’t want this any more than I did! There was no reason for me to feel guilty. He was an empty, loveless workaholic who got his needs seen to by fuck buddies. My heart was racing again. I left the shower on shaky legs—and only because my fingers and toes were starting to shrivel.

  You aren’t going to sleep with him in St. Lucia, are you? Heath’s words came back to me like a sharp slap. I froze, placing my own addendum to Heath’s admonition—because that would be a big mistake. I shook my head—it was too late for self-recriminations.

  But I still had a choice. We could enjoy our last day and a half here and call it quits after. I was no longer getting paid for the job but I had enjoyed it nonetheless. There was nothing wrong with enjoying another day of it.

  When I dressed and went out to the main room, almost dreading to see him
again, I could tell by his quiet demeanor that similar thoughts had run through his head. He was dressed in khakis and a red T-shirt bearing a Star Trek logo and the word “expendable” printed across his chest. His feet were bare and he sat in front of the open laptop, typing away at that maddening pace, the glow of the screen falling across his handsome features.

  Without looking up, he asked, “You hungry? I was going to order room service.”

  I didn’t answer, but walked over to the menu to look it over. Nothing looked appetizing but I knew—I knew—that if I didn’t order, he’d think I was pining or regretful or whatever. The key was to act natural. Act like nothing had happened.

  Fuck. As if.

  “It all looks froufrou.” I said by way of excuse.

  He looked up. Maybe he felt insulted. He was an owner here, after all. “You can order whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be on the menu. You want a steak or something? That’s probably what I’m going to order. I’m famished.”

  I shrugged. “Sure.” But the thought of a heavy steak in my stomach right now made it twist with disgust.

  He went back to typing. “I’ll send the order in right now through the web page.”

  I hesitated, hit with a wave of irritation. “Are you working?”

  He didn’t look up. “Yup. Just thought I’d peek in at what’s going on with the progress of our European launch.”

  I frowned. Work hadn’t been on the schedule for this evening. Yet he’d logged in the first chance he could get after we’d—after…

  What was this heavy feeling in my chest? I shot a glare at him. He was pulling away from me, and he was using work to do it. Just like he had with everyone else in his life—his friends, his beloved family members. Why did I think I would be immune from this treatment?

  His behavior stung. He went back to typing, clicking away on his keys, never pulling his head away from his work, giving his complete attention to it. I wasn’t the type of person who needed someone’s undivided attention all the time. In fact, since I’d never desired a relationship, I was pretty low-maintenance when it came to that.

  But given what had just happened between us for the first time, and my first time ever, I would have thought he’d be more attentive. Or at least, that’s what I would have liked. Instead, I got a wall of silence. He was a tortoise retreating into the hard, impenetrable protection that was work.

  The worst came minutes later, however, when dinner arrived. The majordomo laid it out at our table just at the edge of the patio overlooking the bay. Adam ignored both of us as he continued to work. I busied myself by trying to get my e-mail to finally download on my phone. Nothing from Heath at all.

  When the majordomo left, I sat down at the table and looked at Adam. “Your food’s getting cold.”

  He typed for just a minute more and then approached the table. “I’m starving,” he muttered. Then he picked up the plate and his utensils and took them back to his desk, leaving me there to eat alone.

  My jaw dropped but he didn’t notice because he cut a piece of steak, popped it into his mouth and returned to his work. From my angle, all I could see on his screen was a bunch of incomprehensible symbols and commands. He was working on some kind of program.

  My gut burned. I tried to examine the reasons behind my anger. I felt brushed aside, used. He’d gotten what he’d wanted and moved on. I was a nonperson now. Couldn’t I at least be a friend? Why shower all this attention on me and then the minute we were intimate, ignore me? It made me wonder if that’s what it had been like with my mom and the Biological Sperm Donor. He’d used her, too. And then he’d set her aside like she’d never existed when he had no further use for her.

  With a jolt of fury, I stood up from my nearly untouched plate, unwilling to mull any of this over in silence and watch his weird way of brooding. I went to the bathroom and grabbed my swimsuit.

  When I came back, he glanced up from the screen questioningly but said nothing. I pretended not to notice.

  I waded into the pool, which really was too short for laps, but I couldn’t think of any other way to work out this restless energy short of leaving the room. If I did that I’d be sending him a signal. That I resented or regretted what had happened between us. And I didn’t. But I did resent his current behavior. If he wanted to ignore me, fine. I could do the exact same thing.

  I pondered all of this, as I continued my short lapping—four strokes, turn, catch breath, four strokes turn. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was starting to make me dizzy and I had no idea how long I’d been at it when I felt a strong hand wrap around my upper arm, pulling me to a halt. I came up sputtering. He was standing beside me in the pool.

  “What the hell?” I said.

  “I kept calling you and you wouldn’t stop. How long do you plan to keep at this?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. How long do you plan to blow me off?”

  He shot me a sharp look. “I’m blowing you off? Why do you think that?”

  I wiped the water out of my face. “Maybe because you wired in the first chance you could get and you’re eating dinner over your keyboard. You might do that all the time when you’re alone, but in company, it’s pretty bad manners. And because you’re not talking and I have no idea what is going through your head.”

  He looked away but not before I noticed irritation on his face.

  I continued. “Please don’t tell me you treated your other fuck buddies that way.”

  “You’re not a fuck buddy.”

  I pulled my arm free, turned and pushed over to the edge of the infinity pool, looking out over the dark bay. The distant crash of the ocean and smell of salt rose up on the breeze. From behind me he sighed. “I’m sorry you thought I was blowing you off.”

  My face flushed hot with anger. “Not an apology. Don’t bother wasting your breath with that bullshit. Do you have any idea how it makes me feel that you would just ignore me like that after we—after what happened between us? Like yesterday’s forgotten trash.”

  He came up beside me, hooking his muscular arms over the edge, careful not to touch me. He looked into my face, I kept staring out over the bay. “I’m sorry,” he said after some long, tense moments. “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. It’s something I do when—when I’m thinking.”

  I took a deep breath, the tight anger only easing a tiny increment. I looked at him then. He’d shucked his shirt and pants and it looked like he’d jumped into the water in his underwear. “Then talk to me. Tell me what you are thinking about.”

  He paused. “I was thinking about how I never intended for it to go this far.”

  A band tightened around my chest. “So you are feeling regretful. Guilty that it happened.”

  “No,” he said, turning to me. “I’m feeling regretful and guilty that I enjoyed it so much I want to do it again.”

  A new tension thickened between us. I struggled for breath, because I felt the exact same way. “But you won’t?”

  He looked out over the bay. “It was never supposed to go this far,” he repeated.

  Though I hated how he dealt with his inner conflict by shutting me out, I found that inner conflict utterly a reflection of his goodness. He wasn’t using me. He was afraid of using me. He wasn’t disregarding me. He was holding my feelings in such regard that he was denying his own. How could I be angry with that?

  “But it did. And there’s nothing to regret in that. There was no ‘deal.’ There were no principles violated. The money—”

  “To hell with the money, Emilia. I don’t give a shit about the money.”

  I turned to him, clearing my throat. “Here’s the deal, Adam. You are acting like you did something wrong, like you ‘took’ something from me or somehow despoiled me. You know what? It’s our culture that leads men to think like that…that purity in a woman is the ultimate prize.”

  He grimaced. “You sound like your Manifesto, now.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t just write those words for the hell of it.
I believed them. My purity was worth no more than yours or anyone else’s. I just happened to be a lot older than most when I finally—”

  “Gave it up?”

  “Gave it away. And it means nothing more than that. You did me a favor.”

  He gritted his teeth so that the muscles in his jaw bulged.

  I continued. “I enjoyed myself. You said you enjoyed yourself. What is there to regret or feel guilty over?”

  “What comes next,” he stated flatly. “It’s the way I think. I’m a programmer before I’m anything else. Everything in programming is cause and effect. What are the possibilities that spring from each and every line of code? What will spring from this?”

  “Stop thinking fifty steps ahead of this one. Just think about the one thing that comes next. What do you think that is?”

  His eyes roamed my face. “If I had my way? It would be me fucking you again.” His eyes lowered to my lips.

  I stopped breathing, heart rushing with excitement. We stared at each other in silence for a long moment before I spoke. “I think that sounds like a pretty good step.”

  He hooked his arm around my waist, jerked me flush against him. My body came alive with the feel of his hardness. We held each other for long moments. Then he slowly, sensuously began to kiss my neck.

  “Damn it, Emilia,” he breathed. “How did you strip me bare so quickly?”

  I reached up, holding his rough face in my hands and we kissed.

  He kissed me long, tenderly. Our tongues slowly played against each other. Desire arced through me like lightning across a mountain sky. The touch was jagged, searing. His hands were on my back, untying my bikini top, sliding to my breasts.

  “How is it possible that I want you more now than I did this afternoon?” he growled against my neck.

  I pulled myself up, hooking my legs around his waist and we continued to kiss. The tightly packed muscles in his back roiled under my hands.

  “We were both very eager.”

  He pulled back to look at me. “I’m not sure how eager you were,” he breathed, a smile quivering on his lips. “I got the sense that you were lying back and thinking of medical school.”