The Boss Me Series: Complete Billionaire Boxed Set Romance Books (1-3): (A Billioniare Steamy Romance Series)

by Brooke Kinsley

  All the while his hardness is floating in the water, tickling me as he moves in closer, only to move away when I feel as though the moment is perfect.

  I love you, I think again as he kisses my neck and breasts. I love you so much. When the moment comes when we can no longer wait, I lean back against the cold brass of the bath and spread my legs. He sinks himself into me slowly, my wetness luring him in. We move slowly and carefully with our limbs coiled and our breath baited.

  "Baby..." I whisper and he lets out a faint cry as he quivers slightly.

  The closer we are to coming, the slower we move until we're looking into each other's eyes, lost in the heavenly moment. When we both reach orgasm, our voices are as light as air as they echo throughout the room. Our heartbeats pulse together as my head falls beneath the water, my fingers clawing at the side of the tub as I see Freddie's face blur through the remnants of the bubble bath.

  When I emerge, the sounds of the world around us return. Down the hall, room service knocks on someone's door while a couple laughs and walks by. In the lounge, Nina Simone's caramel coated voice drifts out from the television. There's the sound of water dripping over the edge onto the floor and Freddie's heavy breathing. He leans forward and strokes my face.

  "It's getting cold," he says. "Let's curl up in bed."

  We climb out and he shrouds me in a fluffy towel, ruffling my hair gently as he soaks up the water. I pull him inside the towel with me and we kiss. Don't ever let this end, I think. Please, can I stay here forever?

  Chapter Five

  It's almost three in the morning but neither of us feels much like sleeping. Outside, the sounds of the city filter in through the open window and a breeze wafts over the bed. I shiver before walking over to close it but stand idle for a moment as I watch the street life below.

  "Someone might see you," he says.

  "I doubt it. They all look like ants down there."

  "I mean someone across in one of the other buildings."

  Looking across the street, I see a neighboring hotel with sporadic lights covering the nearest windows.

  "Let them look," I say before turning back and diving beneath the covers.

  Tickling his stomach, I feel him writhe beneath me while a goofy laugh escapes his mouth.

  "Stop!" he screams. "I swear to God I can't be responsible for what I do when being tickled."

  "Relax," I say while lying beside him.

  Lying on his chest, I rest a hand on his abdomen and feel the rise and fall of each breath.

  "I missed you," I confess. "Although it was only a day."

  "I missed you too."

  We both stare up at the ceiling.

  "Mind if I smoke?" I ask.

  "Go ahead."

  I spark the end of a cigarette and suck hard until heat fills my lungs. Then I watch the smoke rise up toward the chandelier. For a long while I lie in silence until I'm sure he's fallen asleep, but then he says:

  "You're ominously quiet."

  "Sorry."

  "Something on your mind?"

  "Maybe..."

  He rolls over to face me as I reach for the crystal ashtray.

  "Okay, there is something bothering me. Penelope. I'm not jealous or anything, I understand you were married, you had a child and-"

  "You don't have to explain yourself," he interrupts. "It's a complicated situation and if I'm being honest I'd probably feel the same way if it was you."

  "Really?"

  "Sure!"

  There are so many things I want to say but, scared I'm going to spoil the moment, I hold back. He gives me a strange look and taps the side of my head.

  "You're cute when you frown but I can't help but feel you're not telling me something."

  I think about the green and blue box in the plastic bag and the headlines I saw.

  "She wants you back, doesn't she?" I say.

  He rolls over onto his back.

  "Yeah, but I don't think it's for love. Women like her are seldom romantic creatures."

  "So you think it's money she wants?" I ask.

  "Money, fame, glory, power... That's what girls like her are after."

  I take a deep breath and hesitate for a moment.

  "Freddie, I saw the headlines in the news. The ones about her family going bankrupt and about your...son."

  Afraid he'll be angry at me, I glance away. He doesn't move and keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

  "Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time. It's not as if the allegations were a secret."

  "So, it's true? People thought she killed your son?"

  The words sound atrocious as they leave my mouth but I need to know.

  "It's complicated," he answers.

  "But do you think she did it?"

  He rolls over to face the window. I run a hand down the length of his spine and feel the tiny hairs rise on his skin.

  "I don't want to think that she did it," he says. "It's hard enough losing a son, let alone thinking your wife is a murderer."

  He sniffs and pulls the covers up over his shoulders.

  "Can you cuddle me?" he asks in a surprisingly vulnerable voice.

  "Sure."

  I wriggle up close so that my breasts are pressed against his back and my arm is tight around his waist. He sighs and pushes himself further back against me.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought any of it up," I say. "It's not my place to have said anything."

  "Don't apologize," he replies. "It was all going to come out eventually."

  As I lay my face on his back and breathe in the clean scent of his freshly washed skin, I feel my eyes grow heavy.

  "Do you ever see yourself getting back with her?" I ask groggily in the twilight stages of sleep.

  He tenses up.

  "No. Never."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes..."

  He sighs again and wriggles free of my grasp.

  "What are you really trying to get at?" he asks and sits up on the edge of the bed tugging at his hair.

  "It's just all so confusing," I say as I join him at his side to rub his back.

  "I was hoping we wouldn't have to talk about her tonight."

  "Sorry..."

  He stands up and meanders over to the window.

  "Can I ask you something?" I say.

  "Something tells me you're going to do it anyway, so go for it."

  He runs his hands down his face and pulls on his boxer shorts, a sign that the romance of the evening has officially come to an end.

  "Are you the really the father of her baby? I mean, you said you hadn't seen her in a year so you can't be, can you?"

  He stares over the top of my head toward the front door as though he's plotting an escape.

  "I must be," he replies. "She spoke to me last night, on the drive home. We talked for ages about it. I guess I must have got muddled up, got confused with the dates or something."

  "So you are the father?"

  "I must be."

  There's no way I believe that he is but without wanting to ruin the night any further, I simply nod and lie back down.

  "You'll make a great dad," I say.

  For a second, he looks as though he's close to tears, then he straightens himself up.

  "I never wanted any of this, you know. I thought we were over for good and that chapter of my life was over."

  "Life's complicated," I say.

  "Like you wouldn't believe."

  His regal features stand in silhouette against the night sky, with the glow of a thousand distant street lamps dissolving through the window. I try to find meaning in the glint in his eyes but can't. He's strong and guarded, silent and mysterious, a true dark horse.

  "You're staring at me," he says without turning his head. "I can feel your eyes on me."

  "You just have such a handsome face," I mutter feebly. "Really, you do.”

  At last, he smiles and slips back into bed.

  "And you're gorgeous. My special, American bombshel
l."

  He kisses me and rests his head on my breasts, his soft hands resting gently on my stomach.

  "I don't mean to be so uptight about Penelope," he says. "But there's so much history between us, too many memories."

  "I understand."

  "I don't love her, though. If that's what you really wanted to know. Not anymore. Not after what she's put me through."

  Without saying a word I kiss his forehead. At the bottom of the bed, a phone rings softly, its tune muffled by a pile of clothes.

  "Is that yours?" I ask.

  He sits up and knuckles his sleepy eyes.

  "Maybe."

  He slides off the end of the bed and rifles through his things with the phone growing louder as he pulls it free from the confines of his trouser pocket.

  "What the fuck?" he grimaces. "It's Penelope's mother."

  He looks at me, terrified and stunned with the phone in his hand ringing endlessly.

  "You better answer it,” I say. “It must be urgent."

  He nods and flicks it open.

  "Margaret! Everything ok?"

  His face drops, he claps a hand to his forehead and begins dressing, stumbling around the room as he pulls on his shirt and trousers.

  "Oh my God," he's saying over and over again. "Tell her I'm on my way. Jesus, this is terrible. I'm so sorry."

  He hangs up and slides into his jacket and coat.

  "It's Penelope!" he panics. "She had a miscarriage."

  Chapter Six

  There's no place I want to be less than in Gibson's class, especially as I never got the chance to do the assignment he set us. But with him on my ass already and with nothing else to do, I sit at the back of the room and try to look invisible. Alex and Morgana are on either side of me and I notice Morgana has a tiny patch of cling film across her wrist. I nudge her and she looks up from her notebook as though startled from a dream.

  "What's up?" she whispers.

  I point my pen at her arm. Looking closer, I see the orange ink through the plastic and the faint outline of a pair of ears.

  "What's with the new tat? When did you get that?"

  "Yesterday," she says. "I wanted you to come but you were preoccupied or whatever."

  She emphasizes the last word to show her annoyance.

  "What is it?" I ask.

  She cranes her neck to see what Gibson's doing and, seeing he's distracted momentarily by one of the boys in the front row, proceeds to pull back the cling film. Revealing the watercolor portrayal of a fox, she smiles proudly.

  "A fox for Foxley Halls," she says. "I know we've only been here a week but I thought it would be a nice reminder for when I'm older, a symbol to remember my first week of freedom as an adult."

  "That's really sweet," I say. "Sorry I couldn't be there. Next time you get one I'll come too. I think this arm's looking a little lonely."

  I throw up my left forearm, the only part of me that doesn't have an inch of ink.

  "Ladies!" Gibson calls from the front. "Enough chit chat."

  "Sorry," I mumble and look back down at my book.

  From somewhere in the depths of my bag, I hear the subtle vibration of my phone ringing on silent. Probably Freddie, I think. He should know I'm in class. I try to ignore it and keep my head down but it rings again, then again. Before long the buzzing sound is annoying the people in the row in front of me and Jenny turns round to see what the noise is.

  "Aren't you going to answer that?" she asks.

  "No. I'll call them back later."

  She gives me a disgruntled look and turns back round. A moment later it rings again for the fifth time.

  "Jesus Christ," I mutter under my breath while fishing it out my backpack.

  Then I see the familiar number, the one I’ve known off by heart since I was six years old.

  “Is there a problem, Stephanie?” Gibson asks with his hands on his hips.

  “Sorry. I really need to get this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose.

  “Fine, but be quick.”

  When the phone rings for the sixth time I’m in the hallway answering it breathlessly.

  “Yup?”

  “It’s Susan.”

  Silence. I don’t know what to say. I haven’t spoken to my sister since the day I left home. As far as I’m concerned she hates me and couldn’t wait to say goodbye.

  “Everything ok?” I say at last as I walk down the stairs.

  “You haven’t heard from mom, have you?”

  “No.”

  A group of fourth years emerge at the bottom of the hall with their voices echoing down the stone walls.

  “Hang on a minute, Susan. Let me find somewhere quiet.”

  Pushing through the double door, I make my way onto the grass in the center of the campus. When I arrived it was beautiful with plush trees covering the landscape. Now it’s miserable and muddy and my boots stick to the brown grass as I walk toward the bench. As I approach I see it’s wet from the rain so I remain standing with the wind whipping at my hair.

  “Okay, what is it Susan? I can’t be long. It’s freezing and I got to get back to class.”

  “It’s mom. She didn’t want to tell you in case you came home.”

  “Tell me what?”

  I scan my mind for things she could be talking about. The last time I spoke to mom she was on her way to the doctors. She had a ticklish cough but was happy and bubbly as always.

  “Steph… Are you sitting down?”

  “No.”

  “Are you with anyone?”

  “No! Just tell me what’s wrong.”

  She sniffs and moves around the house. I can hear her footsteps move from room to room, recognizing the sound of the floor in each one. She’s on the porch now with her sneakers squeaking on the rubber mat by the front door. A breeze gently pushes past the phone and I imagine it to be warm and welcoming as it breathes dust across the house.

  “Mom has…” she sobs. “Mom has cancer.”

  I collapse onto the bench with my jeans soaking through in an instant but I don’t care about the cold or the rain. In the moment I’m suddenly so aware that I’m on the other side of the planet and thousands of miles away from where I should be.

  “Are you joking?” I ask even though I know she’s not.

  “Do I sound like I’m joking?” she spits.

  “Of course not.”

  Silence again. I hear her walk back into the house. There’s the distant drone of a TV game show playing in the living room followed by a throaty cough from somewhere upstairs.

  “I just can’t believe it,” I say. “I don’t want to believe it.”

  “Well you better.”

  My tears mingle with the rain as they fall into the mud. Looking up at the math department, I see the lit up classroom I was just in. It seems like it was a lifetime ago when I innocently talked about tattoos and inwardly laughed at Gibson’s frown.

  “Are you there?” Susan asks.

  “Yeah… Sorry I just… I can’t get my head around this. She said it was just a chest infection.”

  “I’m just as shocked as you are,” she says as she sparks a lighter and sucks a cigarette.

  I’m so shocked and upset by the news that I forgot to ask for the details. I dab at my mascara smudged eyes and take a deep breath.

  “What is it? What did the doctor say? How long has she got?”

  She takes another long breath.

  “Lung cancer, nothing good and about six months.”

  “Six months!”

  Susan begins to cry again.

  “Steph, I’m so scared.”

  It’s the first time I’ve heard the softness in her voice for years. She sounds like a small child again and a memory comes back to me of her falling off a tractor and scuffing her knee. She’d cried the same way then and I’d run to comfort her.

  “I’m coming home,” I say. “Just hang on. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  �
�Nuhuh,” she replies. “Mom’s so proud of you. She’d be devastated to know you were messing up your studies.”

  “I’m coming home!” I repeat. “I’ll get on the next flight.”

  “You don’t have to,” she protests.

  “Yes I do,” I sob.

  The rain starts to fall heavier and I run back over to the building, shielding myself in the doorway as the wind picks up.

  “Can I speak to mom?”

  Susan sniffs and cries.

  “No. I mean, not yet. She’s taken the news badly and shut herself in the bedroom. She’ll be mad as hell when she finds out I told you.”

  “I can’t believe she’d keep it from me,” I gulp and wipe at my face.

  “You know what she’s like. You’re her golden girl and she didn’t want to upset you.”

  There’s no hint of the usual jealousy that tinges Susan’s voice.

  “Look, just hang on, the both of you. I’ll be back before you know it. Give mom a kiss for me.”

  “I will, sis. Bye.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Jesus, Stephanie! I’m so sorry!”

  Alex sits on the edge of my bed with my hands in hers. Morgana is standing awkwardly in the doorway with tears in her eyes.

  “This is terrible,” she snivels. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.”

  I cry into my pillow and pull the covers up over me.

  “Are you leaving Knightswood for good?” Alex asks.

  I nod and she leans over to hug me.

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do but I’ll stay with my mom until the end.”

  “We’re really going to miss you,” she says. “I’ll Skype you every day.”

  “Thanks,” I say as I dry my face with my blanket. “I’d like that.”

  She pulls out three cigarettes, lights them and hands us one each.

  “We shouldn’t be smoking in here. We’ll get into a heap of shit,” Morgana complains but holds her cigarette to her lips anyway.

  “What do I care?” shrugs Alex. “We’ve got bigger things going on right now.”

  We all stare into space as smoke begins to fill up the room.

  “This is going to be my last,” I say.

  “Really?” Alex asks surprised.