The Billionaire's Package (Thirsty Thursday Book 1)

by Autumn, Kyle

  “When you’re looking so…erotic,” I admit.

  “Hmm.” She takes a step closer to me and lets the towel loosen just a bit. “And I don’t in my work uniform?”

  I swallow hard. “Don’t get me wrong. You look great in that too. But I haven’t seen you this way before.” Now, it’s my turn to close some space between us. “And I like what I see. A lot.”

  Though I don’t know why, because I thought she was too independent and strong-willed to succumb to feelings like this, she completely shuts the gap and steps right up to me. With her this close, I take advantage and brush my fingers down her cheek. Her eyes close, and her whole body shudders under my touch.

  When her eyes open, a thin glaze has taken them over, but only for a moment. Then the veil drops and it’s like she remembers who’s standing before her. Not a man she’d normally be with, but me. The guy who’s been a jackass for the last two days. She becomes guarded again, but that small glimpse into what unguarded looks on her is enough for me to resolve to be better. Nicer. More of what she deserves.

  More of what she actually wants.

  “Clothes, Miss James,” I grit out between my teeth.

  Because, before this, she wanted to talk. And we’ll talk. But only once she’s clothed.

  She swings around and heads down the hall, presumably toward her bedroom so she can change into something less revealing. While she’s gone, I sit on the couch and take my surroundings in.

  Her house is simple and quaint. Homey in a way mine has never felt. The blanket on the couch looks handmade. The photos on the walls are of spontaneous moments, not staged poses. The trinkets on her TV stand probably mean something to her too. They’re likely not some last-minute purchase while she was buying the furniture or something her interior designer chose, because she doesn’t have one. Everything’s well thought out, planned, full of purpose. Everything here belongs, makes it feel like a home.

  Unlike mine. She’d probably faint if she stepped foot in my house. It’s her home’s complete opposite in every way. My bedroom might be the size of half of her entire home, and I bet the tub she was soaking in is a quarter of mine. But I don’t think she’d have it any other way.

  And I can see why. I could get used to a home like this. The warmth is that comforting, even if the woman who lives here isn’t sure about me.

  Speaking of the woman who lives here… She returns in what are probably the shortest shorts she owns and a tank top that dips so low that most of her breasts are showing. What’s not showing is poking through the thin material, leaving very, very little to my imagination.

  Less, in fact, than the towel did.

  She may not be sure about me, but she’s surely determined to be a thorn in my side. Albeit a sexy, stubborn thorn. But I’ll take it. Gladly. Because she’s so different from all the other women who’ve inserted themselves into my life. She’s a breath of…well, fresh air, but in an atypical way. And that’s the most important part.

  Next to me, she sits on the couch and crosses her legs, placing her intertwined hands around her knee. “Tell me more about how we’re engaged now that I’m dressed properly, more in a manner you’re used to,” she coos.

  All I can do is swallow the knot in my throat. She’s not dressed properly, even if it’s more like what I’m used to women wearing around me. That doesn’t mean that’s what I want. This woman is fiery, and I love it.

  “Well, I was thinking maybe I’d move in here. Looks like you have enough room for one more person, and I probably wouldn’t have to bring a lot of my stuff, seeing as this house is pretty set and established,” I tell her, a serious edge to my voice while I try not to smile. “It’s not that far of a commute to work, and maybe you could even drop me off while you drive for your deliveries.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me, but she lets me keep speaking.

  “And then I thought you’d work for two more years, because after that, we’ll have a son. An heir for my company. Our daughter will come after that a year later, and if you’d like, we can get a dog too.”

  “Oh,” she interrupts. “I’ll get a say in the dog situation?”

  “Well, do you have anything you disagree with so far?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head once. “Not yet. Keep going.”

  So I do. “After ten years of tough but blissful marriage, we’ll renew our vows. Maybe in Hawaii or Bali. You don’t like my extravagance, but I’ll treat you to it every now and then. We’ll have the means, and you deserve it. We’ll leave the kids with our sitter. It won’t be the first weekend we have alone, but it’ll be a rare weekend alone, because unlike a lot of families, we’ll all enjoy being together. Our children will be well behaved because they were raised by their strong-willed mother and their well-mannered father.”

  She laughs at that last part, and I don’t blame her. But, as long as we’re dreaming…

  “After both of our children are off at college, we’ll reconnect through the passion that brought us together in the first place. With the house to ourselves, no room will be safe from our love. And you’ll wear a lot less than you’re wearing right now, little though it may already be, because we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other, even after all of that time.”

  When I’m done with this part of our dream, she actually looks wistful. Like she can really picture the world I’m describing. And, if I’m being honest, I almost can too. So I wonder: What would be the harm in truly trying to make that happen with the woman sitting next to me?

  I came here hoping she’d agree to go along with me on a ruse so my company would still take me seriously. Hoping she’d help me show the board I’m working on changing, even if that didn’t really mean we were together. But, now, as I look at her after I’ve confessed my heart’s true desires, I find that I want them to be real.

  With her.

  Even if that’s absolutely nuts.

  Chapter 6

  Shiree

  Call me nuts, but yeesh. That sounds dreamy as hell. And, since I’m the woman who says what she’s thinking, I make it known.

  “That sounds dreamy as hell,” I tell him.

  After a pause, he says, “But…”

  “But”—I hesitate because I don’t want to burst this bubble, but it’s unrealistic and I don’t want to get in over my head, either, so I make a snap decision—“you never asked me to marry you.”

  Without a second thought, he’s down on one knee in front of me, taking my hand in his. I bring a hand to my mouth to feign shock, but it’s also because I really am shocked. He’s committed to this nonsense, and this nonsense is about his business. Not about me. I’ll have to remember that. But I’ll still go along with it.

  Why? Because his fantasy sounded wonderful. Like the happiness I’ve been chasing all along. Not that there’s anything wrong with my life. But sharing it with someone would make it that much better. Not being alone would be wonderful. Even having children would be okay with me. I haven’t felt pulled toward motherhood, but I also haven’t had a man in my life, either. And we’d definitely get that dog. For sure.

  “Miss James, please do me the honor of—”

  My laughter cuts him off, and I pull my hand away from him as I lose it.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of a proposal here. What’s so funny?” he asks, mostly business but with a slight hint of humor poking through.

  “You can’t possibly ask me to marry you by calling me ‘Miss James,’” I inform him between giggles. “I have a first name, you know.”

  “And I’ll use it when you start calling me Chaz like my friends do instead of Mr. Masters,” he counters, one eyebrow raised.

  “Fine. You’re Chaz. I’m Shiree. Now, back to your proposal,” I say, barely holding on to a straight face.

  “Shiree,” he says, holding my hand and my gaze again. “We’ve only just met, but if our life can be half as amazing as my dream, then it’ll be worth it. Do me the honor of marrying me?”

&nbs
p; My attempt at keeping my face neutral fails completely, and I break out into a huge grin. This is so silly—and fake—but it’s adorable too. He’s taking it so seriously that I can’t help but feel as though it’s a little real. I’d give a lot up, though I don’t have much, for it to be real. And, even though I usually say what’s on my mind, I think I’ll keep that secret.

  I nod to answer his question, but that’s not enough for my almost-fiancé.

  “I think I’d like to hear your answer out loud, if you don’t mind,” he says, a tiny grin on his lips.

  “Yes. I’ll do you the honor of marrying you,” I answer, matching his grin. Then I school my features into a serious expression. “But I do have one question.”

  “Just one?” he asks as he rises from his kneeling position. Then he resumes his spot next to me on the couch. “Surely a woman with your curious no-holds-barred nature has more than a single question in mind.”

  Oh, I have a ton of questions. Like how for real is this? How long will we have to fake this engagement? Will we actually have to get married in order to keep his board members happy? Will we get along at all? And when can we get to that passion thing he was talking about?

  Okay, so that last one is a little selfish and off topic, but he did bring it up first. Sue a girl for wanting to know if he’s right.

  “I’ll only ask one right now,” I say.

  “That’s what I thought,” he smarts back. “See? I already know you.”

  “Ha!” I laugh. “Whatever you say.” Then I get off the couch and start walking toward my—our?—bedroom. “Where’s the ring?”

  He gets up and follows me as I walk. “What ring?”

  I stop in my tracks and look at him like Lyra would right now, in a way that says, Duh. “My engagement ring?” I sing, holding my left hand up near his face and wiggling my ring finger at him.

  He snatches my hand up and presses it to his chest. “Oh, my mistake. I didn’t think you were materialistic like that, seeing as my rich lifestyle is too much for you and all.”

  My eyes go wide and my eyebrows shoot up as I smack his chest in a place where my hand isn’t. “Ohhh, I see how it is, Mr. Masters.”

  “Oh, no. It’s definitely Chaz. We’re engaged now, remember?” he teases back.

  “Not until there’s a ring on this finger,” I say, poking him in the chest. “What kind of name is Chaz anyway?”

  “It’s a nickname for Charles. Only the people closest to me get to call me that though.”

  “I’m one of the lucky few?” I ask as I back us toward my room. It’s a joke, but I do kind of mean it. Why am I considered someone closest to him?

  “You’re my fiancée. Or have you already forgotten?” His answer sounds like a joke too, but I think I detect the same sense of truth my question had as well.

  My teasing smile fades once I cross us over the threshold of my bedroom. I didn’t forget what I’d agreed to, but we’re getting really good at pretending like this is real. I get that we have to for his board members. Behind closed doors though? How will we act then?

  I guess I’m about to find out.

  “Well, since you’ve moved in, you should get used to my schedule,” I tell him, walking over to my dresser. When I reach it, I dig through the top drawer. “I don’t really have anything you can wear to bed, but I’m ready to go to sleep.” After approaching the bed, I pull the covers back.

  “Getting in bed sounds good to me,” he says, pulling his tie off. He left his suit jacket on the couch, so he starts unbuttoning his shirt next.

  And what I see causes my breath to halt.

  Though he is rich monetarily, his body is rich in muscle. Things may come easily to him, but he’s obviously no slouch at the gym. Probably his own private home gym, but whatever.

  For a moment, I’m overcome with what the hell am I doing? Are we really going to pretend that this whole thing is real? That we really just got engaged? That we haven’t known each other for less than two days and know nothing about each other? That this isn’t a horrible idea?

  Okay, somehow, this doesn’t feel like a horrible idea at all. I’ve had much worse ideas. Like that time I sat behind Chaz’s desk like it were mine. That probably wasn’t the best I’ve had.

  Or maybe it was. Maybe they all were. Because, in the end, they’ve led me here. To a life, though small and without too many luxuries, I can be proud of. A life I’m happy to claim as my own. A life that’s taught me to say what I’m thinking to get what I need and want because no one else is going to make it happen for me. A life that’s given me everything I need—a home, a job, food, clothes, friends—but not necessarily the things I want—love, a family, that damn dog he said I could have.

  As he removes his pants, I decide that this could be my chance. This could be my opportunity to take what I want in my life—but still on my terms. I don’t need his fancy life. I don’t need his money or his fame. But I do want love—maybe his love. I do want a son and a daughter—maybe his son and his daughter. And I do want that dog!

  And I do want that lifetime of passion and happiness. There’s no better time to start that than now, right?

  ***

  Chaz

  As soon as I’m down to my boxer briefs, I realize that this is happening. Whatever this is, it’s on. It’s transpiring, and we’re rolling with it like it’s real. Shiree—I can’t wait to say that name more and more—is the kind of woman who’d put me in my place, tell me that this isn’t authentic. If she didn’t want this, she wouldn’t be doing it, so this is happening. Right?

  God, this is weird and confusing, but it also feels so good. So right. So I get into her bed as slowly and carefully as she does. And we meet in the middle, resting our heads on our individual pillows. I inhale the scent of her from her sheets and sink into the comfort of her charming bedroom—something I could definitely get used to.

  Her life doesn’t come with the stress of a billion-dollar international company. It doesn’t come with the coldness of a house too big for one lonely man. And it doesn’t come with a string of identical transposable women who care little for me and a lot for my money and my fame.

  Before I met her, I knew I wanted more in life. But what I didn’t realize was that the more I wanted was actually less. And she’s the one who can simplify my life. Starting right now.

  When we’re both settled in bed, I cup her soft cheek, which feels incredible under my fingers. Like all the stress of finding out how much my own company distrusts me is melting away and being replaced with something pure and good.

  “Thank you,” I tell her sincerely.

  She crinkles her brow. “For what?”

  As I glide my thumb across her cheek, I say, “For being you.” Then I slide my hand down her arm and intertwine our fingers under the comforter.

  Her gentle, small smile sets a fire within my heart, and I know that, if I don’t put a stop to this charade now, there’s no going back. This could be my only chance. This could be my opportunity to take what I want in my life—but on my terms. I don’t need my fancy life. I don’t need my money or my fame. But I do want love—her love. I do want a son and a daughter—her son and her daughter. And I do hope she wants that dog.

  So I don’t stop this. Instead, we fall asleep holding hands.

  ~~~

  When I wake up, the sun is shining. And we’re still holding hands. And we’re spooning. My face is pressed against her neck, and her hair is spilling over my forehead, so her sweet scent is filling my nostrils as I rise from the dead. Because that’s how this feels. Like I was so asleep that I was dead. Which feels amazing. It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages. All thanks to her.

  I also have the hardest morning wood I’ve had in ages too though. All thanks to her.

  And, if we’re engaged, we can do something about that, right? Because let’s face it—I’ve done a lot more with women who’ll never marry anyone, let alone me. If we’re really seeing this through, we should probably fi
nd out if we’re sexually compatible. That makes the most sense to me.

  Granted, most of my body’s blood is in my dick right now, so anything sex-related would make sense. Doesn’t matter. If we’re full steam ahead on this pretend-but-please-be-real engagement, then I’m going to keep acting like it. Which means I’m going to snuggle her, pull her closer to me, and see what happens.

  All right. Here goes nothing.

  I tighten the arm I have around her and squeeze her back to my front while nuzzling my nose into her neck. Her hair tickles my face, and I hear a soft sigh come from her throat. But then she tenses her muscles for a split second like she’s come back to reality after having woken up now. So I go to release her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable even through my morning-wood-slash-lust haze, but I’m surprised when she holds me to her.

  Her grip on my arm is strong—just like how I thought her arms would be. Package handling has done her body good, and I hope her package-handling skills translate to all kinds of packages.

  “What are you laughing about?” she asks in a sleepy, husky, just-woke-up voice. Which only makes me harder than before.

  I didn’t even realize I’d laughed out loud, so I cough a little to mask it. “Just…thinking. About you.”

  She flips her body over so she’s facing me. “And it made you laugh? That’s not a good sign.”

  “If I told you, maybe you’d laugh too.” I readjust my arm around her and press her front to mine. Mmmm. “But maybe you’d be offended. I can never tell with you.”

  “Gotta keep you guessing,” she says, grinning. “Now that we’re engaged, we have to find ways to make it fresh again. So tell me what was so funny.”

  I sigh before giving in and spilling my humorous thought, my eyes on her chest if only to avoid her gaze. I swear. “Well, I was wondering how good your package-handling skills were…”

  When she doesn’t answer, I look up at her. Her eyes are wide, her eyebrows are high, and a smile is trying to peek through. Then she bursts into laughter.