The Billionaire's Surprise Babies

by Sophia Lynn

  This wasn't the way I wanted this to go, she thought, but if she dwelt on that, she really would start to cry.

  Jordan focused on getting out of the room. To her dismay, however, when she went to retrieve her clothes, they were in shreds. Her body could still thrum with the memory of the fabric parting under Cord's powerful hands, but she shook it aside.

  Jordan bit her lip. She could probably sneak her way back to her room with her clothes draped over her as best as she could. She probably wouldn't be caught, but it was taking a chance.

  She was just working on trying to drape her pajama pants over her hips to make something like a skirt when the bathroom door opened.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Cord's voice was hoarse, but there was a richness, a satiety there that sent tremors through her. Jordan braced herself against it and lifted her chin defiantly at him.

  "I am making myself scarce," she said. "You left without saying a word, so I figured that was my cue to leave."

  In another situation, the thunderstruck expression Cord's face would have been funny. For some reason, he looked utterly nonplussed at her words.

  "Cue to leave, no . . . Jordan, get back in bed."

  She wavered for a minute. She almost wanted to fight him, but right now, sore, tired, and thoroughly confused, she simply did as he said. With a soft sigh, she came back to the bed to rest on the covers, looking up at him as he came to sit by her side. He was as naked as she was, but he moved naturally, like a predator from some jungle who took its nakedness as a matter of course. To her surprise, she noticed that he carried a steaming bowl.

  For a moment, Cord simply looked down at her, and the look on his face was complicated. She wondered if there was a tenderness there, something almost yearning, but then it was gone as he set the bowl on the bed next to her.

  "Will you spread your legs for me?" he asked softly, and bemused, she complied.

  "I did not . . . I didn’t realize that it was your first time," he said softly. "If I had known . . . well, I don’t know if I would have stopped. I like to think that I would have been gentler at least, taken more care not to hurt you.”

  You were like a storm at sea, she thought, and when he chuckled, she realized that she had said it out loud.

  "Thank you, I think," he said. "Tell me how you are feeling. Are you sore? Did I hurt you too much?"

  She whimpered with shock and then with pleasure as he placed a wrung-out hot towel between her legs, pressing gently before he started to clean her. There was a gentleness to his motions that she had never felt before, and a deep lassitude sank into her body. It felt like every muscle on her was relaxing, letting her melt into the bed. For a moment, Jordan simply enjoyed it before she answered him.

  "No, it . . . it just stung at first," she said softly. "There was . . . a sting, I guess, and then you kept moving, and all I wanted was more. I wanted more of you."

  He looked strangely touched at her soft words, and he continued to wash her. By the time the water cooled and she felt utterly clean, her eyelids were drooping and she could only murmur with pleasure.

  "What a beauty you are," he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. "Do you even know it?"

  She made a grumpy sound that made him laugh, and then the bed shifted as he went to the bathroom to dispose of the bowl. This time, he was back before she could even get restless, sliding into the bed behind her and drawing the heavy covers up over them.

  "I should . . . I should get back to my own room," she protested sleepily, but his heavy arm thrown over her hip dissuaded her.

  "I want you to sleep here for at least a little while," he said, and there was such a note of command in his voice that she simply settled against him with a sigh.

  "Just for a little while," Jordan murmured, but then she was falling into a deep and restful sleep.

  ***

  Cord had assumed that he would fall asleep as quickly and as completely as Jordan did, but he found that he couldn't. His body buzzed with the pleasure that it had given and received. There was a beautiful girl in bed with him, but he couldn't give himself over to rest.

  Christ, what had he done to her?

  He had been so blinded by pleasure that it had taken him a shamefully long time to realize that she had cried out in pain and not pleasure when he entered her. The thought of how tight she had been still made him flinch even as it aroused him all over again, and if Cord had ever thought he was a good man, that thought was gone now.

  When he looked down at Jordan, he didn't see a maid. He saw a spirited, innocent girl whom he had seduced, one who had crept into his bed for some kind of comfort and then been confronted by some kind of monster out of a fairytale.

  He had known that she was inexperienced, but he hadn't known that her innocence went that far. God, she was what, twenty-two? Most of the women he had known had been active and happy about it for years at that point, but Jordan was different.

  If he were honest with himself, however, he had known that she was different ever since he had found her in the library. It was funny that he was always finding her in odd corners, like a little mouse or a shy cat.

  I need to take better care of you, little cat, he thought, but he realized abruptly that he had no idea how to do that. His dealings had always been with women far more experienced than Jordan, and he had liked it that way. They knew how the game was played, and they knew exactly what they wanted out of it. He had resisted giving them the ultimate prize, a rich husband, but he had been just fine with providing everything else, the clothes, the expensive nights on the town, the nights in exotic locations.

  It occurred to him, however, that if he tried to provide Jordan with any of that, she would simply laugh in his face, or more likely, grow angry and tell him that he was horrible. No, Jordan would always stand apart, and what she wanted would always be different.

  Cord frowned. He had broken his own rule that night. He had slept with her without protection, and a child could result. He told himself that it was immensely unlikely after just one incident, and he was confident that Jordan would not deliberately try to get herself pregnant to secure a hold over him.

  At this point, Cord knew what the right thing would be. He cared for her. He knew that at least. He already liked her better than he liked most of the women he had slept with, and it was more than that. There was something about her that drew him in, that made his heart beat faster.

  The right thing to do would be to write her a check and send her on her way. She had thought that she would be worth far less than Brianna's ten thousand. How would she react if he told her she was worth more than fifty times that amount? She had said that there were some prices a poor woman couldn't pass up. She could live comfortably for years on that if she were careful, and he thought she would be.

  Would she accept? Would she disappear?

  The thought made him flinch.

  He could set her up in her own apartment. It could be in any city that she cared to live in, a place that was totally hers, that she could decorate as she liked. He was a man whose business let him work from anywhere, so he could come see her often. He imagined her in some place warm and lovely, San Francisco or San Diego, perhaps. She would thrive there . . . but what would being his mistress do to her?

  "My God, but you are a difficult case," he murmured, sweeping a lock of golden hair from her brow. Almost as if she could hear him, she smiled a little in her sleep and nestled a little closer.

  His mind chased itself back and forth like a confused animal, and by the time dawn was streaking the sky, he was no closer to a solution than he had been.

  All he knew was that the small woman who curled up so trustingly and so sweetly next to him could tear his life up by the roots, and somehow, though it went against every instinct in his body, he would let her.

  Chapter Ten

  Jordan woke up at the normal time, utterly panicked. At first, she had no idea where she was, the close walls of her room replaced with the large wind
ows and broad spaces of Cord's room, but then the memories came flooding back.

  Oh, God, had she really done what she thought she had? Had she truly . . .

  Looking over at the sleeping man by her side, she knew that the answer was yes.

  Then a secondary panic set in. She was getting perilously close to the time when she would have to be ready for work, and she stumbled out of the bed with a thump before a thought tugged at her mind. Hardly daring to hope, she reached for her phone, still in the pocket of her shredded pajama pants, and thumbed it open. To her relief, she was greeted by a reminder informing her, It's Your Day Off, and she shut it off again.

  Before she could do much beyond gathering her thoughts, however, a soft noise drew her eyes to Cord, who was propped up on his elbow in the bed, blinking at her with a smile. With his hair rumpled and a soft smile on his face, he looked younger, almost sweet, and she firmly told her heart that it was not allowed to flutter.

  "That was quite a series of expressions," he murmured. "Shall I assume that it was good news?"

  "It was," Jordan said with a gusty sigh of relief. "I'd forgotten it's my day off. That means that I don't have to sneak back to my room to put on a uniform."

  "Good," he said with feeling. "You worked entirely too hard last night to have to do so again this morning."

  She blushed when she thought of the work that he was talking about, but then she yelped softly with surprise as he tugged her back into bed with him.

  "Spend the day with me," he murmured, kissing her throat softly. "I seem to have a day off as well, and those are rare enough."

  "I don't know," she said softly. "I mean . . ."

  "I do not think that was a suggestion," he said, his voice slightly more stern, and he gave her a nip that made her squeak.

  "All right, all right!" she exclaimed. "Do I get to go get my clothes, or do I have to spend the entire day off naked?"

  The sudden blaze of heat in his eyes almost made her wish that she hadn't suggested it, but there was a part of her, a deeply buried part that was just now making its presence felt, that suggested that it wouldn't mind very much at all. How would it feel to be entirely naked all day, to be touched and petted whenever Cord cared to touch her . . .

  "I think I want to take you out," he said after a moment. "I feel as if we hardly know each other, and right now, if we stay in bed, well, we'll know each other, but only in a very specific way."

  She grinned at him, feeling impossibly bratty.

  "Oh? I had assumed that this was how you got to know women."

  He frowned slightly at that.

  "I hardly think that's—"

  "Of course, I don't know any better," she said, opening her eyes wide. "I'm just an innocent little thing, so pure and virginal until Mr. Everett decided that he wanted me in his bed—"

  She yelped as he tumbled her on her belly, landing a quick solid thump on her rear with the palm of his hand. The sting was quick, but the warm pleasure underneath it stayed longer than it had any right to.

  "You are being impertinent," he said with a laugh. "Now get your rear back to your room to get dressed. You can borrow one of my robes to cover yourself, and then meet me in the garage in an hour. I have a few ideas for us."

  "Sir, yes, sir," she said with a smile, and then she ducked out of the way before he could grab for her again. God, why was it so much fun to tease him?

  There was one old robe in the back of his closet that didn't look too obvious, and she covered herself up with a sigh. He gave her one last kiss that almost got out of hand, and then she had to brave the corridors, looking around all the time to hope that she wasn't spotted. Even a household as tidy as Waverly Manor wasn't usually up this early, but it would be just her luck to catch Mrs. O'Donnely or the butler having an early day.

  Somehow, however, she made it back to her room without anyone seeing her, and then she closed the door behind her with relief. For a moment, Jordan simply leaned back against the door, overwhelmed by what had happened.

  She wasn't a virgin any longer. She had given her virginity to an Everett, the son of Lance Everett himself. She could feel a tide of shame and confusion threaten to drag her under. What the hell was she doing? This was literally sleeping with the enemy.

  With what felt like a titanic effort, however, Jordan shrugged it off. It was an old shadow that she had been working under for quite some time, and maybe just for today, she could walk in the sunshine.

  She had not brought many clothes with her to Waverly Manor. Truthfully speaking, most of her clothes had been secondhand goods anyway, and she had known that the uniform would cover most of her needs. For a moment, Jordan wondered if Cord would care about her old jeans and T-shirts, but then she uncovered her gray dress.

  It was properly more a lilac than a gray, and she had spent what was for her a surprising amount of cash on it at a consignment shop. It was long and soft, hugging her curves and sweeping down to mid-calf. It made her look strangely soft and romantic, and when she paired it with her garters and stockings, she could not help feeling a bit like a girl from another time.

  Well, it's thick, and it'll be good for how chilly the day is meant to be, she thought, but even as she thought it, she knew that she was just fibbing to herself. She wanted to see whether Cord liked it, whether he would be pleased to see her in something that wasn't pajamas or her dull black and white maid's uniform.

  Maybe they're part of the thrill for him, she thought. Maybe he's getting off on screwing the help.

  She pushed the thought away because it was unworthy of both of them. She had nothing to show her that Cord was being anything less than honest with her, and until she had that evidence in her mind, she was going to do precisely as she liked.

  When she was fully dressed, she looked in the mirror, startled by what she saw there. With her golden hair brushed and pulled back in a soft bun, her lips reddened with just a touch of lipstick, and her eyes sparkling with excitement, she looked lovely.

  Is this how he sees me? she wondered. Like this, like someone beautiful?

  It seemed unlikely. She was a scrappy girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and even if she had been chased by the boys when she was a teenager, it was more because they thought that poor meant easy, not that she was particularly pretty.

  Tentatively, she spun in front of the mirror, watching the dress bell out. She could see faint traces of silver thread in the dress's weave, making her smile.

  Don't forget whose son he is, she thought. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

  It was something her mother had said, but it made her think with a wince of her own father. Did that mean that she would never be more than a sad and lonely drunk, bitter at the misfortune that life had chosen to throw his way? She refused to believe it. She could be anyone she wanted to be. Maybe that meant that Cord could as well.

  Before she could make herself dizzy worrying about the whys and wherefores of what she was doing, she locked up her room and headed out. So what if she was taking a day off in her battle against the memory of Lance Everett? She was allowed a day off. Everyone was.

  The household was beginning to wake up around her, so getting back to the garage was more difficult than getting to her room had been. It was her day off, so that meant that she could truly spend it as she liked, but there would be questions to answer if she was heading for the garage instead of calling for a cab.

  The small rear door of the garage had been left open for her, and when she came inside cautiously, she saw that Cord was alone there. He had arrived early to shoo out the chauffeur, and now he leaned against his cherry red Ferrari, checking his phone until he heard her enter. He looked up, ready to say something to her, but then he stilled when he saw her.

  He's realizing this is a mistake, and he wants to send me back, Jordan thought, but then she firmly told herself that that was unlikely, to say the least. Instead of flinching back, she stepped up to him, lifting her chin.

  "Well?" she asked, fee
ling daring. "Is there a problem, sir?"

  "The cheek of you," he said, chucking her under the chin. "Do you ever get tired of coming out on top?"

  "Why should I?" Jordan asked. "Do you?"

  "Not at all," Cord said with a grin.

  In a single heartbeat, she was in his arms, spun around so she leaned back against the smooth coolness of the car door. She nearly yelped, but her cry was devoured by his swift kiss, a kiss meant to silence her at the same time as it aroused her.

  "You need to learn that you can't tease me like this," he growled, sending a tremor of heat through her body. "You need to learn your place."

  "Why, when you seem to like it so much that I don't?" she retorted.

  They could both feel his arousal between their bodies, and with a soft laugh, Cord stepped back, adjusting himself and opening the door for her instead.

  "If you ever stopped sassing me, I don't think I would know you," he said. "I hope you never stop."

  "That's all very well," she said as he opened the garage door and pulled down the driveway, "but sometimes, you do send the oddest messages."

  "I suppose I do. I guess it just confuses me when a girl who seems to be more than ten years younger than me and no bigger than a minute wants to brawl. I have men way bigger than you, all over the world, and they're terrified of me. Somehow, you're not."

  It was an unseasonably warm and bright day for the season. When she looked out over the fields of melting snow and up at the clear blue sky, it felt as if there was a chance that everything would be okay after all.

  "Why should I be afraid?" Jordan retorted. "I'm strong, and I fight, and after that, everything else will turn out as it turns out."

  Whether it was a false confidence or not, whether it was a false hope or not, Jordan knew that the warmth she felt inside was not false. It was the first day in an eternity that she had not thought of her father's dark fate or her own mission for revenge. It felt as if for a single day, perhaps everything would be all right.