REX (The Billionaire Croft Brothers, Book Three)

by Paige North

  “Damien,” he says, and I let out a blech.

  Rex’s eyes narrow. “What? Did he do something to you?”

  “No, of course not,” I say. “I just got a creepy vibe from him, that’s all. But I guess I shouldn’t hate him too much since he sent me to you.”

  “And me back to you again,” Rex says.

  It’s strange how we met, but lying in bed in the middle of the night with Rex feels better than anything else in the world. I kiss his chest right in the center where there’s a little dip between his breast plates.

  “I’m going to get some water. You want something?” I ask.

  “Water’s good.”

  When I get up I find another T-shirt and some panties, which I put on. Rex tells me there’s no point, I should just accept fact that I will always be naked around him. “Very funny,” I say, tugging on some clothes. “But if you think I’m bringing your clothes back, you’re dead wrong.”

  When I come back with the water he’s looking thoughtfully around my place. It kind of makes me cringe.

  “How long have you lived here?” he asks, taking the glass of water.

  “Not quite a year,” I say. “Pretty dumpy, huh?” He’s probably dying to get out of here.

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  I stop mid-sip of water, eying him. I dip my fingers in my glass and flick water at him. “You’re such a liar.”

  He flinches and laughs. “I meant in movies and documentaries. Not real life.”

  I kick him with my foot. “Asshole. I’m sure you’ve never even been to this part of town.”

  “Of course,” he says. “It’s where I get my meth.”

  “Terrible,” I say, smiling and shaking my head, and right on cue, a car alarm goes off in the distance. Nice. Now all I need is a screeching cat and shattering glass and the picture will be complete. “So where did you grow up? Bel Air? Beverly Hills? The Playboy Mansion?”

  “Boston,” he says.

  “Oh—really?” I say, surprised. An East Coast guy. “How’d you end up out here?”

  “The business,” he says.

  “Family business, right?”

  “Yep,” he says, giving me another bare-minimum answer.

  “So…” I begin slowly, “who else works? You never really told me. Does the whole family work for the company? Mom, Dad, brothers or sisters?” I find myself wanting to know more about him.

  I like him, that’s for sure. So I want to know more about him.

  Rex isn’t looking at me. His eyes gaze out the plate-glass window at the streetlight outside. I set my water glass down on the floor beside the bed and scoot closer to him. I run my hand across his chest, the sweat now dry. I feel his heart beating beneath my hand, a sure, steady rhythm. He turns his eyes to me. His hand reaches for my thigh and strokes it gently.

  “I guess I figured you knew,” he says. “Most people, when they know a little about what I do or how much I have, look the rest up. Not that I expected you to. It’s nice that you didn’t actually.”

  That makes me feel warm, especially with the way his fingers continue to play across my thigh reassuringly.

  I blink. “You’re still making me think that maybe I should have Googled you.”

  He moves closer to me and rests his head on my thigh, his eyes up at the ceiling. I immediately dig my hands in his thick curls, smoothing them back from his forehead.

  “I have two older brothers. My mother lives overseas. Father passed away—and don’t tell me you’re sorry about that or anything,” he says quickly. “He was a great businessman and a terrible father.”

  “That’s all?”

  “There’s a reason I live clear across the country from my brothers, Addison,” he says. “And the only people who like talking about their families are people who get along with theirs. So are you going to tell me about yours?”

  I think about how little I left behind in Oregon, including Jim and Laurie. I can’t even call them parents anymore even though they legally adopted me when I was a baby. Adopted and swore to be my parents but left out the love part of things.

  “I’d rather not,” I say. “But maybe someday.”

  He smiles. “I hope to never have to burden you with my family bullshit.”

  “It wouldn’t be a burden,” I say.

  “It’d be a pain in the ass for me to talk about, how about that?” he says.

  I stroke back his hair, loving the way my hand half disappears into the softness.

  “Well, I don’t know if you got this gorgeous mound of hair from your mother or father but you can at least thank them for that.”

  “That feels nice.” He closes his eyes as I massage his head.

  “I may live in a dump but you’ll always get a free head massage when you stop by,” I joke.

  “I might need one if that ceiling caves in,” he says. “Are you sure those water stains are old?” I look up at the ceiling. “If it breaks it’s going to come down right on top of you.”

  “The manager isn’t going to bother unless that happens. And maybe not even then.”

  “The neighborhood isn’t safe,” he adds, eyes still closed.

  “You said yourself,” I say. “Great place to get meth.”

  “You should really reconsider the marriage arrangement,” he says.

  My hand pauses for a brief moment. I’m not sure which is weirder—talking about marriage to a total stranger like last night, or talking about marriage with a guy I just met, have had wild sex with, and who I think I really like.

  “Rex,” I sigh, shaking my head.

  “You’d live with me in the Hills,” he continues. “You’d be safe, for one thing. Taken care of. Your life would be so much easier.”

  “And I’d get to see you all the time, right?”

  “Of course. A lifetime of me.”

  “And Sheldon,” I add.

  “For all your needs,” he says. “Well, not all of them.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “Just think about it.”

  He seems genuinely serious, which sort of rattles me. It’s strange how comfortable I am with him, despite having just met him. I realize I don’t even know his brothers’ names, but I know I can be honest with him and it won’t bristle him.

  “Are you being serious about this whole marriage thing?” I ask.

  “Completely.”

  “You do know how insane it is, right? To want to marry someone you’ve known for two days and who you don’t even love.”

  “As long as both people are getting something they want, it seems fair to me.”

  I keep brushing his hair with my fingers, flabbergasted. He really is crazy.

  “Will you at least tell me what the rush is to get married?” I ask him. “Are you pregnant or something?”

  “Ha, very funny,” he says, keeping his eyes closed. “But I have my reasons. I will say they have to do with my family—but that’s all I’ll say, at least for now.”

  I do think about what he’s proposing, and then I answer. “If there’s one thing I learned from the crappy marriage I had to live with growing up, it’s that I’m only going to marry for love.”

  “But I’m so loveable,” he quips.

  “I’m serious, Rex,” I say, and I stop with the head massage. He opens his eyes and looks at me.

  “Okay,” he says, watching me now.

  “I will never marry for convenience or money or anything other than love. Call me naïve or old-fashioned but I’m not budging on that. As heartfelt as your offer is,” I add, if for no other reason than to try to keep a serious subject light.

  Rex sits up and faces me. “What I heard is that you’ll think about it.”

  “Rex, I’m completely serious.”

  He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, fine.”

  “Good,” I say, not sure it is good that he’s given up so quickly on the idea.

  I actually kind of find myself liking the idea of spending as much time as humanly
possible with him.

  “And Addison,” he says between little kisses on my lips.

  “Hmmm…”

  “I don’t want to freak you out,” he says. “But there’s a roach crawling across your bed.”

  I literally leap out of the bed screaming, hopping on my bare feet and scuttling away. I never see the roach but Rex finds a shoe and is pounding the floor where it must have made its escape.

  “Gross, gross, gross,” I mumble like a crazy person.

  “I’d like to add for the record, Ms. Gilmour, that I can assure you there are no bugs in my house.”

  “Just get rid of it!”

  “Don’t you want to inspect it first?” He holds up the tissue he found, which now serves as the roach’s coffin.

  He chases me screaming around the tiny apartment before flushing it down the toilet. Then he does a thorough inspection of every corner of the studio looking for the bug’s friends. Finally, he kisses me saying, “I’ll always take care of you, Addison, no matter how big the bug.”

  And then I sort of melt in his arms, a happy end to a day that began with me sneaking away from him in the gray morning light.

  REX

  I was being serious when I told Addison I’d always take care of her, and not just from bugs crawling around her apartment.

  When Damien’s name was brought up I purposely didn’t tell her how right she was about her initial vibes about him being a total scumbag. I definitely don’t plan on telling her how I almost had to kick the shit out of him for the way he talked about her.

  I have to protect her from dirt like him—I don’t want her to worry unnecessarily. Already I feel like it’s my job to protect Addison, and it’s a job I’m completely genuine about.

  The moment I left her apartment I felt that I had left a piece of myself behind. I never would have thought I’d feel so comfortable in such a shithole apartment and with someone I just met, but with Addison by my side, it’s like I’d feel at home anywhere. As I drove away, all I thought about was seeing her again. If that could have been my full-time job, I’d have taken it.

  Unfortunately, I have actual work to do. I can’t let my infatuation with her get in the way of my true goal: taking control of the family business, right out from under my know-it-all big brothers. Seeing the shocked looks on their smug faces when they find out that it’s their little brother who wins the company prize is what keeps me going. I might still be able to convince Addison to marry me despite her reservations, but in the meantime I’m just going to continue doing a killer job at the office, enjoy spending time with Addison and figure something else out in a week or so. I’ll come up with something, of that I’m sure.

  As I work through the day, Addison is always on my mind, needling there in the forefront like an itch I can’t scratch.

  As I sit on a conference call with the acquisitions team, I’m sending an email to Marjorie, my assistant, telling her to send an enormous bouquet of white flowers to Addison’s address. Through the entire call I think about how to sign the card. MORE, PLEASE, I decide for the inscription.

  My dick twitches just thinking about what it is I want more of.

  “Do those numbers work for you, Rex?” Danny says on the other end of the call, interrupting my chuckles at my own cleverness.

  I quickly unmute the phone, “Yeah, that’s perfect,” I say. “Send them to me in an email so I have a copy before you pull the trigger.” That way, I’ll know what he’s actually talking about before any deals are made. I won’t look like I wasn’t paying attention.

  Just two nights after spending the night at her little place, I’m driving home from work late, and it seems like my car just steers itself to her place, even though it’s completely out of the way of work and home.

  Her face lights up when she opens the door to me. I know then that she’s been thinking of me too. I pull her into my arms and kiss her, the feeling of her against me so strangely right.

  “Did you miss me?” I ask.

  She runs her hands through my hair. “A little.”

  I tug her closer. “Liar.”

  “Okay, a lot,” she says, and when she kisses me I want everything to fall away, including my phone, which keeps pinging texts in my pocket. “You need to answer those?”

  I glance at my phone. More stuff from work, everything pressing, the problems and crucial deadlines never-ending. I silence my phone and drop it on the scratched-up table. “No,” I tell Addison. “I need you.”

  “But Mr. Croft, I hardly know you,” she says.

  “So get to know me,” I say back, kissing her neck as her head falls back.

  And so it begins. Once my hands have a hold of her body, I can’t do anything but let them roam all over her.

  After all, there are still places on her body which I haven’t yet explored—whether with my hands or my mouth—and so I get to work.

  Addison is more than willing to let me. Tonight she wears a tank top, which is blessedly too small, and she’s not wearing a bra, so I’m all over that. I can’t get her tits in my mouth fast enough. She’s holding the back of my head, always pulling me closer, her kitten moans causing me to get harder and harder, my dick always straining for her, needing her. When I’m inside her, I’m still not close enough, and the way she claws at my back seems to say she feels the same.

  When we come, we come together.

  Afterward, slick with sweat and waiting for our hearts to return to their normal beat patterns, Addison says, “Hey, thanks for the flowers. They’re gorgeous. Huge, but gorgeous.”

  “Just wanted to let you know I was thinking of you.”

  “It looked like you were thinking of me a lot,” she says.

  “What does that mean?” I ask, feeling guarded.

  “Rex, did you see the flowers you sent? They’re enormous. Look.” She points to an arrangement that is at least four feet high. “I’ve never gotten flowers like that before. I’ve never seen flowers like that before.”

  I turn on my side and rest my head in my hand. “You should get flowers like that every day.” I run my hand across her belly and up to her breast, holding it gently. Her eyes close a little.

  “I’d have nowhere to put them. But really, thank you. They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “No, I didn’t, but I love doing it.” I kiss her again, and the way she kisses me back, I think she really should get a bouquet a day.

  AS THE DAYS go by I realize I can’t go twenty-four hours without seeing her. It physically pains me. We spend parts of the days texting each other, and more than once Marjorie has had to ask me to follow up on emails or phone calls. Things slip my mind as if the space Addison takes up is too abundant. I start going to her apartment every night after work, and I start leaving work earlier and earlier. One night I leave at seven—the earliest I’ve left the office since I was an intern in high school.

  Each time I show up at her place, I make sure to have a little something for her. I scheduled a lunch meeting with my personal shopper, Rachel, and chose several gifts for Addison, which I handpicked from a curated selection.

  “Oh my god, Rex, it’s gorgeous,” Addison says to the Hermès scarf I give her one night. The pure joy on her face and they way her fingers carefully tickle the fabric show me that she’s never held such fine clothing before. It’s fun for me to see someone appreciate the nice things with such a warm perspective. Not like someone like Monica Saunders, who would take the scarf as a matter of course. She’d toss it in a drawer with twenty others just like it.

  “The next time I come over,” I tell Addison, “I want you to answer the door wearing only that scarf.”

  She grins, as if already planning out how she’ll wear it. “It’s not big enough to even wrap around me once.”

  “Exactly,” I say.

  But the next time I come over, goddamn if she doesn’t open the door completely naked—except for that scarf tied around her neck.

  The desire to take her all a
t once is nearly overwhelming. My lust doesn’t even know where to start.

  It doesn’t take me long to work it out, though. When it comes to Addison’s body, I'm learning that re-learning every inch of it is just as satisfying as feeling her for the first time.

  ADDISON

  I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into me.

  Rex has.

  But oh my god he’s got my mind spinning and my body constantly on fire. The other day I was in an audition—for a local discount store, which I didn’t get—and I was wet as I read my lines. I’d been thinking about him as I waited my turn.

  Every time he comes to my apartment we begin by ripping each other’s clothes off.

  And then he’s always like, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I picked this up for you.” Like it’s all no big deal, just an afterthought. First it was the flowers, then the scarf. He’s also given me a beautiful dress that somehow fits me perfectly, and a thin gold bracelet that is delicate and exquisite.

  “You have to stop,” I tell him. “I don’t deserve all this. I don’t need all this.”

  “Addison, there are no doors on your closet,” he says. “I can see how many dresses you have. Three. You look gorgeous in anything but I saw this and all I could see was your curves poured into it.”

  “I don’t know where I’ll wear it,” I say. “I don’t think the hamburger joint audition I have coming up is appropriate.”

  I’ve spent hours in front of the mirror trying out dozens of ways to deliver the one line I have for the commercial. Saying it in a designer dress would be ridiculous.

  I should be more embarrassed about his coming over to such a dump every night, but with Rex I don’t feel at all ashamed about where I live, and he doesn’t seem to care either. He wouldn’t have cared if we were in a bus station that night with the scarf.

  “I know the perfect place you can wear it,” Rex says. “Out on a date with me.”

  “You mean leave the apartment?” I say. “Do you think we can even breathe out there? Would our skin sizzle and our throats constrict?”