Work Me Up: A Sexy Billionaire Single Dad Romance

by Sasha Burke

  “How is that different?”

  “Because it’s you who fucking owns me, woman. I don’t want anyone else. You’re all I think about, all I want. That’s what I was showing him back there.”

  A reluctant smile tips her lips up at the corner. “Now who’s not playing fair?”

  “I’m not playing, period. I’m yours. In every sense of the word. But, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me you feel the same.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. And why is that, exactly?”

  She’s so damn cute when she uses her therapist voice and redirect questions on me. “Because I already know you’re mine. If you’re not ready to say it out loud yet, it’s okay. I can wait. In the meantime, I’ll just have to make sure I ruin you for all other men until you’re ready to admit it.”

  I yank her legs out from under her and have my mouth on her slick, sweet pussy the instant her back hits the couch cushion. “So, you take your time thinking about this. And only tell me yes when you really, truly feel it.”

  She practically screams when I start flicking my tongue across her clit.

  “You’re cheating,” she pants when I ease back and finally give her a chance to breathe.

  “Yes, I am.” I slide two fingers along her g-spot while grazing my lips over her soft belly, up to her perfect little tits.

  “What about now?” My teeth gently score over one tight, berry-hard nipple as I start to pump my fingers deep inside of her. “Are you feeling a little like mine now?”

  Instead of answer, she stretches out fully on the couch and reaches her hand out to grab my hard cock.

  Fuck, I love how this woman argues.

  I groan as she quickly undoes my zipper and runs her tongue up the shaft, sucking at the tip when I start leaking precum like crazy.

  Just when I start thrusting into her hot, wet mouth, the realization of where we are crashes over me.

  Jesus Christ, I need to get some window blinds in this damn office.

  As much as I want nothing more than to sixty-nine the hell out of her right now, we can’t. Yes, the only folks who could possibly see us on the couch would have to be up high on one of the advanced walls across the gym peering with binoculars into my office window. But still, it’s not worth the risk.

  “Nicole, we can’t do this here. It’s too dangerous. I won’t be able to keep myself in check. If you put that sexy mouth of yours on my cock again, the next thing you know, I’ll be buried balls deep in your pussy, fucking you until we both pass out.”

  She lets out a quiet, muffled moan, her sugary slit drenching the palm of my hand.

  Fucking hell.

  “You make me crazy,” I murmur roughly before repositioning us so my back is to the window, blocking any possible view of her as I drop down between her thighs to run my tongue over her sugary slit. Spreading her wide, I form a seal over her hot little pussy with my lips as I begin tracing an array of alphabets over her pulsing flesh with my tongue…in multiple languages.

  “Logan, don’t stop…” she whimpers, her throat hoarse.

  I growl at the insane and downright unacceptable idea of stopping right now and her whole body stiffens at the vibration.

  Ruthlessly, I hold her on that brink just like that until finally, I hear my name slip past her lips in little moans of pure pleasure. “Logan, Logan, Logan,” each a half a heartbeat apart, in a rhythm I could set a clock by.

  Suddenly, her entire body snaps taut and her cries grow louder, harder, faster.

  I capture her lips with mine before I let her plunge over that edge.

  A long while later, after she’s dozed off for a mini-nap, she lifts her head up from my chest and whispers, “I do…really, truly feel it.” She cuddles deeper into my arms. “And yes, I kind of want everyone to know it, too.”

  Ah, damn. Knowing it and hearing her tell me are two completely different things.

  “That seals your fate, woman.”

  20

  * * *

  |NICOLE |

  “You’ve got this! You’re doing awesome,” I call up to Hannah as she makes it up her tallest climb yet.

  Lordy, I’ve missed hanging out with her every day.

  Though Logan wasn’t at all happy about it, I moved back into my apartment about a week and a half ago after we got word that Kenny was admitted to an institution.

  Without that looming factor—and no actual insects in my apartment—there really wasn’t a plausible reason we could give Hannah for me continuing to live there.

  Logan had wanted me to stay, I know. But, I didn’t want to keep lying to Hannah and his parents. And I didn’t want to keep pretending my time there was more than what it was.

  Though it had felt more right than anything in my life to this point, we’d essentially been playing house that entire time…with Santa Clause as our cover, a history we still haven’t truly unburied, a tragedy as the impetus of it all, and deepening feelings we still couldn’t voice yet.

  Our living together with that many psychological red flags just wasn’t healthy.

  My putting a stop to it was hard. I didn’t do it because I’d given up on the dream. But rather, because I’m willing to wait until it’s all real for us, and no longer pretend.

  And I didn’t move out expecting Logan to stop me; I knew he wouldn’t. What I still don’t understand though is the why of it all. But I’m willing to wait as long as it takes until he’s ready to explain it to me.

  A lifetime, even.

  “Yes!” cries out Hannah from the top of the wall.

  I smile up at her. “Way to go, Hannah!”

  Waving excitedly, she shoots me an elated grin and starts rappelling down like a pro. I watch and wait for her, anticipating the moment she touches down. It’s easily the best part of my day on most days.

  True to form, the second her feet hit the floor, she does a triumphant fist punch high into the air like a rockstar with a mic, before doing something akin to a touchdown end zone dance that ends with her hi-fiving anyone who wants to hi-five her.

  I could watch that every day.

  “Again!” she says, running over after she finishes her celebration dance. Her face is red from exertion, but she looks pumped, on top of the world.

  “You sure you’re not too tired?” I ask. I don’t doubt she knows her limits, but she still needs an adult’s voice of reason to remind her to be mindful of her body and her limits.

  “I’m good,” she says with a confidence she simply never had before. It’s just amazing to see it blossom like this.

  She turns to face the wall and I step back to watch as she finds her handholds and hoists her body up higher and higher, all of her movements bold and precise.

  “Slow down a bit,” I call up when I see a telltale wobble in her limbs. “Take a breather if you need to.”

  The back of my neck prickles and I glance over my shoulder. Logan’s watching us from his office. And he doesn’t look happy. But, he stays where he is.

  “Nicole!”

  I shoot my gaze back over to Hannah and see she’s lost a handhold.

  “Don’t panic. Find your grip,” I call out, trying to talk her through her fears, while trying not to show any of mine.

  Her body’s too tired. I should have told her not to go up again.

  “I can’t reach!” Hannah cries out, panic filling her voice.

  For an adult, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but being that she’s a child—and a petite one at that—the nearest handholds were spaced farther away from her.

  She was officially starting to panic, I could see it.

  “Deep breaths. Look at the wall and remember you can do this.” I can see her shaking, struggling to hold as her hand finds a grip.

  Two of Logan’s workers immediately begin rappelling to get to her. But they’re way at the top.

  C’mon Hannah. You can do this.

  She makes a desperate grab for a nearby foothold. But, it’s
not enough. Her grip isn’t strong enough to make that work.

  With a shriek, she falls.

  It’s a nearly thirty-foot drop. The fact that she’s on a part of the wall with no jagged formations jutting out for her to slam into is a small comfort. But still, with spine injuries being known to happen from those heights for grown men twice her size, seeing her tiny frame go down is nothing short of terrifying.

  The harness catches her cleanly, and aside from a sharp jerk of her entire body that gives me a mini heart attack, she looks uninjured. At least physically.

  With tears streaking down her face, and terrified hiccups racking her tiny frame, Hannah runs right past me to Logan, who catches her in his arms.

  He’s furious.

  I can see it in the hard line of his lips, the stone set of his features.

  “You okay?” he asks her, but she doesn’t answer.

  He glares at me, positively enraged.

  Gently rocking her back and forth, he simply holds her until she stops crying.

  I don’t leave their side, even though I can see Logan wishes I would.

  “You did a great job up there, Hannah,” I say. “You fought through your fear, we all saw it. You pushed past it and went for that handhold. You didn’t let your fear stop you.”

  “But I still fell,” she mumbles dejectedly.

  “Everyone falls. The important thing is that you didn’t let your fear get the best of you. And that you don’t let your fear stop you from trying again.”

  Logan snaps. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

  “We’ll wait until her muscles have had time to rest a bit, but when she’s up for it, she needs to try again. Even if it’s just part way up. She needs to know she can do this.”

  “Stop telling me what my kid needs to do,” he growls, sounding beyond pissed. “She needs to be safe. Something that you failed to ensure when you let her go up that last climb even though her body was obviously fatigued.”

  “Logan.”

  “She’s done.” Without another word, he unhooks her harness. Judging by the look in his eyes, I can tell he isn’t just referring to her being done with climbing today.

  Hannah holds onto her harness. “I want to go again.”

  “If she wants to go again, you need to trust her.”

  “Just stop it!” he all but yells at me. “This is my daughter’s safety you’re putting at risk just to prove that your methods aren’t dangerous, and reckless.”

  21

  * * *

  |NICOLE |

  I recoil, cut to the bone by his assessment of the situation.

  But I don’t back down. “Logan, as I told you months ago, I’m not reckless. Every decision I make is in my clients’ best interests.”

  “Is that how you see Hannah? As just one your clients?”

  No. No, I don’t. But that’s a different discussion altogether. “It’s important that she take these calculated risks.”

  “Operative word being ‘risk.’ She’s too young to make decisions involving risk, and clearly, you’re not the right person to be making any such decisions for her either. She is not going up again.” Logan sounds as angry as I’ve ever heard him.

  Hannah looks devastated. “But Daddy, it’s not her fault. And I really do want to—”

  “I said no.”

  Tears flooding her eyes, Hannah stares up at him for a beat in utter disbelief, before she turns and rushes off the floor to the women’s restroom.

  Logan follows her, looking equally devastated. And ready to break down the door.

  “You’re not listening to her,” I say quietly, as gently as I can.

  He ignores me and makes his way to his office.

  I slip in before he can shut me out. “Logan—”

  “Look, Nicole, I get that your intentions are good, but you’re not a parent, so you don’t know anything about having to say no to your child. Do you think this is easy for me?”

  He’s not yelling. And that makes the words hit me harder than a shout would have. “With all due respect, you don’t get to tell me how to feel or how to decide what’s best for my kid. You’ve never had to make the tough decisions a parent does. You’ve never had to wonder if this time, she’s sick enough to go to the E.R. or if the day after one of her friends makes her cry her eyes out, she’s not better off staying at home where you can shield her from undue pain. You’ve never had to worry about your kid trick or treating after confirmed cases of razor blades and needles in candy, or predators living nearby, or cyber bullying, or the countless other terrifying things out there for us to be outright terrified over.”

  It’s not frustration I hear in his voice, it’s something else, something like disappointment. And that’s perhaps the toughest thing for me to hear right now.

  “You’re a great therapist,” he says in a matter-of-fact way that sounds both admiring, and flatly final. “But you’re not a parent. You’re crossing a line right now and if you don’t back off, we won’t be able to come back from this.”

  For the first time in my career, I’m starting to question my ability to see that line he’s referring to.

  Logan sighs. “Until now, you’ve only had other people’s kids to guide. Guide, Nicole, not raise. There’s a big difference.”

  He has a point, an excellent one. I know it. But I have one, too.

  “Maybe I am overstepping here,” I concede. “You’re right. I’m not a parent. I don’t know how to be a parent. But you’re wrong in thinking that I’m trying to stop or influence your parenting. We each have very different roles. For you as a parent, when your child falls, it’s your job to hold her for as long as she needs, to kiss her injuries and make her feel better, make her feel loved and happy in the way that only you can. For me as a therapist, when a child falls, it’s my job to help her cope, help her discover and reconcile her thoughts and emotions, help her move past that fall…with none of the same amazing things you have at your disposal.”

  I feel an ache in my heart I’ve never felt before as I tell him plainly, “We don’t get to be their favorite person in the world, the one who can make them feel better with a hug, the one whose love holds more power than we’ll ever have.”

  He’s calmer now, almost thoughtful.

  “When she fell off her bike when she was first learning to ride, what did you do?” I ask then.

  He glares at me, all calmness back off the table. “Not the same thing.”

  “No, it’s not,” I agree. “This is a heck of a lot harder, I know. For both of you. Which means it’s going to take more strength from both of you. I know you think I’m in the wrong here, and again, maybe I am. But isn’t it possible that I’m also right about this?”

  His arms cross his chest as another barrier, even as the anger in his eyes begins to thaw.

  “I know I’m not Hannah’s parent, and I get that you love your daughter more than any other human being on this planet. But you know the rest of us who’ve grown to know and care about her love her fiercely as well, right?”

  I point out his window to his concerned workers on the floor shooting worried glances our way. “That’s why they all told me about Hannah’s school troubles to begin with. That’s why they’ve each taken turns teaching Hannah their own personal tips and tricks on the wall. We all love that little girl. None of us would ever put her in harm’s way. You believe that, right?” I ask. “That none of us would do anything that wasn’t in her best interest. That I wouldn’t be standing here trying to convince you to let her go up if I thought in any way that it would be more detrimental than beneficial for her? Do you believe I care about her enough to do right by her in this situation?”

  He takes another deep breath.

  Before he can answer, Hannah pushes the door open and comes in.

  “Dad.” She meets his gaze dead-on. “I want to go up again. I know you’re scared for me, and I’m scared, too. But, I need you to let me try again.” Her voice grows stronger with each word. “And
if I fall again, I need you to let me try again after that.”

  My heart is just about bursting at the seams. A few months ago, she’d never have been able to do this. God, she’s come such a long way.

  Logan clenches the edge of his desk until his knuckles turn white. “Honey, I want to say yes, but you don’t know what fear can do to you up there. I do. I’ve had the scariest things in my life happen to me. I’ve lost things I can’t ever get back. If you got injured up there, I’d never recover. I’d never forgive myself.”

  Me, too.

  “Please, daddy. Just let me try.”

  I look over at Logan and see he’s wrestling with himself.

  “There is a way we can reduce the fear factor a little for her,” I say, hoping I’m doing the right thing.

  Hannah looks over at me. “Really? How?”

  I can feel Logan’s disapproval over me butting in again, but despite what he thinks, I’m not here to railroad over his feelings, or his role in his daughter’s life and choices. So, I turn to him and simply give him as much info as I can to help him make this difficult decision.

  “There have been studies showing how climbing blindfolded focuses the mind and body on the climber’s sense of touch over the climber’s surroundings. It proved remarkably successful for people who had a fear of heights, which is why I believe it can work here.”

  He’s still looking at me like I’m nuts, but, I forge on. “Relying only on her sense of touch could help Hannah tune into her body while she’s climbing, and offer her brain a constant security that would not be there if she could see her environment. Not just that, but follow-up studies have shown that in females in particular, the blindfold doesn’t just dramatically reduce fear, but it also effectively boosts the climber’s self-confidence and strengthens their belief in their ability to accomplish the task at hand.”

  I look back at Hannah. “Now sweetie, putting all the studies and therapy research aside, I want you to understand something very important. You have something I’ve never had in my life. You have someone who loves you so much that no matter how high you climb, how far you go, he is right there with you. Your fears are his fears.”