REX (The Billionaire Croft Brothers, Book Three)

by Paige North

  “I’m glad,” he says. “We should do it again, then.”

  “I don’t need all of that,” I say. “A dinner is enough. You’re enough.”

  I’m afraid he’s going to ruin the moment and say something about us marrying for convenience and I don’t want that to happen. I’m starting to realize that I could fall in love with Rex—and that’s major for me—but marriage is just too uncertain. It has to be perfect, and I won’t be a part of some weird business arrangement. The fact that Rex could propose such a thing really puts me on pause.

  But he doesn’t bring any of that up. He pulls me to him by the belt of the terry cloth robe and kisses me. It’s a soft kiss, gentle and slow. I can smell myself on him and when he slips his tongue across mine I can taste myself too. It all gets me worked right back up again.

  He unties the belt and the robe falls open, once again exposing my completely naked body. His warm hands wrap around my waist and pull me close to his body which, I have not forgotten, is still completely clothed. My hands start quick work on his shirt, and as one layer after another comes off his body we begin to move faster, more urgently. He leaves only his underwear on when he falls with me back onto his bed, his mouth crushing into mine. The weight of his body on top of mine feels like a place I always want to be. Now that I can finally wrap my arms around him again, feel his flesh under my hands, the hard lines of his muscles, I realize how starving I was all night.

  “Addison,” he says in my ear, his hands caressing my side, down to my hip.

  Just hearing him say my name and nothing more makes me pull him closer, want him more. Soon he’s shucked his boxer briefs and he’s on his knees between my legs, his dick in his hand. He slides it over my entrance, one last tease before he leans over me and slowly fills me up.

  We let out moans of satisfaction together, our bodies finally merging as one. He goes slowly at first, easily moving in and out of my soaked pussy. He’s watching me as he moves, a crease between his eyes, his lips full and open. I reach up and caress his jaw, my eyes never leaving his.

  He leans down to kiss me, deeply, pulling me closer as he ups his tempo. He hooks his arm under my knee and pulls it up, and with a slight move of his hips his dick is putting glorious pressure on my clit. I cry out at this, letting him know that yes, this is good, this is what I want, don’t stop. He goes harder and harder into me, stretching out my already worked pussy, my hands holding onto his arms, feeling the hard rock of muscles, digging my fingers into him.

  “Come with me, Addison,” he says. He’s looking down at me, watching me. “I’m going to come. Do it. Come with me.”

  “Yes,” I say because I am so close, he’s working me so good, knowing my body so well. The intensity not just of our bodies moving together in such passionate rhythm but with our eyes locked onto one another…it’s one of the most intense experiences I’ve ever had.

  Even when we come we keep our eyes open and on each other as we explode into and on one another.

  Rex collapses on top of me and we stay like that, still connected, panting for a long while until our breathing finally slows. And then my least favorite moment comes when he slips out of me, separating our bodies.

  We cuddle under the covers and Rex pulls me close, our limbs entangled in one another.

  “So is that the tour you give to all your guests?” I ask.

  He laughs gently. “Hardly. That was special, just for you. Tomorrow, I really show you the rest.”

  I love the thought of tomorrow with Rex. I fall asleep in his arms knowing we’ll both still be here in the morning, together.

  When I wake the next morning I am alone in his bed. I look across the room, listening, wondering if maybe he’s in the bathroom. But all is silent. Panic builds in my throat.

  I hear footsteps and silverware clanking from down the hall. Sheldon. I bet he’s doing…something. I wonder if Rex went off to work or something and left me here. I look for a note and find nothing. The footsteps get closer and I pull the sheets up over my chest, looking for last night’s robe to cover myself from Sheldon.

  And who walks through the bedroom door carrying a tray of food but Rex Croft himself, dressed and wearing a grin across his morning-stubble face.

  “You’re awake,” he says. “Perfect. Are you hungry?”

  I’m actually starving. Even though we ate a lot at dinner last night—God, all the way out on Catalina Island—last night’s activities have left me famished, as if I’ve run a marathon or something.

  “Yeah, I’m starving,” I say. I keep the sheets up under my arms to cover myself. In the morning light I’m definitely shyer than the way I act at night with him. Rex is off-the-charts sexually, and I can’t even believe some of the things we’ve done—or mostly that he’s done to me. It makes me blush just thinking about it.

  He stands beside me holding the tray. He’s looking at me like he’s trying to decide something.

  “Do you have any idea,” he says, “how beautiful you look just like that?”

  “Oh, god,” I say, putting my hand to my face which I didn’t even wash last night. I must look like hell.

  “No, I can’t,” Rex says. He puts the tray down on the floor and is on me in a flash, peeling back the sheet that’s kept me covered. “I can’t resist this body,” he says, his voice already back to its low growl I'm coming to know and love. As soon as his hands are on my body, I melt back into the soft bed and let him work his wonders on me. When he holds my breast and takes my nipple, hard already, into his mouth I feel like I could die. My hands tangle in his hair and I let him suck as hard and as long as he wants because it is all so good. I’m wet again like I was never any other way. He runs his hand down my body, but instead of touching more of me he goes for his own pants and shucks them down just far enough to release his dick, hard and in need of my pussy. Without hesitation he’s inside me, and when he fucks me it’s hard and urgent. His head is down by mine, his breath on my cheek.

  And then he does it again. He says my name. Maybe I’m hearing things but he says it like a need, a necessity, and it sends my body into overdrive. His dick pumping hard inside me, breath on my cheek and one hand still on my tit and I can’t…I need to come. I grab hold of his hand and rock my hips up into him as my pussy clenches around his cock. As soon as I come, he explodes, warm cum shooting into me. We’re both crying out our ecstasy, and then Rex fully collapses on top of me as once again we’re trying to regain our composure.

  He pulls out of me and gets himself dressed again. He finds last night’s robe on the floor and hands it to me. “I hope the eggs aren’t cold. I really wanted you to have a hot breakfast but as soon as I saw you…” He leans over and kisses me on the lips, smoothing my hair back. “You make me crazy in the best possible way.”

  He finally gets the breakfast tray up on the bed.

  “Did you make this?” I ask.

  “Of course I made this,” he says. “You don’t think I’d have someone else make you breakfast in bed, do you?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Liar,” he says. “You thought Sheldon or the chef or someone made this.”

  “What is it?” They’re like thin pancakes folded into squares the size of handkerchiefs.

  “Ham, Swiss and egg crepes,” he says. “Bacon and rosemary potatoes on the side. Too savory?”

  “Savory—what? No, it’s amazing. But…”

  “But what?”

  “Look—why are you treating me like this?”

  He pulls back. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, why are you being so nice?” Not only does he send my body to another orbit, but he’s also treating me like some kind of princess. It’s rattling me.

  “Is that really your question?” he asks. “I’m just treating you the way you deserve to be treated. And I like being nice. But only to you.” He leans over and kisses my neck. “Hey,” he says, seeing that I’m not fully comfortable, staring down at the tray of amazing food. “What is it?”
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  “I just…Rex you have to understand. I’ve never had anyone treat me anywhere near this well before. I’m used to being on my own and taking care of myself, and having you swoop in and buy me stuff, take me on amazing dates and then bring me breakfast in bed—it’s all so new.”

  “But in a good way, right?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It’s been good, for sure. It’s just a little hard to adjust to.”

  “You shouldn’t have to worry about every little thing. I want to do nice things for you, and you could use the help. Don’t forget, I’ve seen your place,” he teases, but I don’t smile.

  “You would know why it makes me a little nervous if you knew how I grew up,” I say frankly.

  He takes my hand and says, “So tell me.”

  I hesitate, staring down at the food he made for me. I worry that he’ll feel differently about me if I tell him everything. I’ve seen it happen. Growing up, when other kids found out I was adopted they started looking at me funny, knowing I didn’t really belong with Roger and Cynthia, wondering why my biological parents gave me up. I had to get used to it, even though I didn’t understand any of it myself. Roger and Cynthia certainly never sat me down and told me I belonged. The only thing they ever said to me was, “You’ll do it because you’re mine and I said so,” which they said a lot when I was being defiant like any normal kid would be.

  Rex rests his hand on my leg and waits patiently while I gather my nerves to tell him. I feel like I can trust him. I wouldn’t tell him otherwise.

  “I was adopted,” I say, letting the words fall out. “I lived in a group home until I was three and then Roger and Cynthia came in wanting a girl. They wanted a baby but I guess the home didn’t have what they were looking for. It’s like they were shopping for a car or something. The group home director basically sold me to them, convincing them that adopting a kid who was a bit older was way less work than a newborn, and that they’d already gone through the rigmarole of starting the adoption process. So they took me. And it was never right.”

  “Did they hurt you? Did that man do anything to you?” he asks, a hard edge to his voice.

  “No,” I say. “Nothing like that. They just didn’t seem to care for me. It was like buyer’s remorse.”

  “Jesus, Addison,” he says. “Was it just the three of you?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “They didn’t bother adopting any other kids. I can’t believe they ever even wanted kids. Cynthia doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She hugged me maybe twice in my whole life. And Roger always looked at me like I was a fly he couldn’t get rid of, like I was some black mark on his perfect world of going to the races and drinking beer with his buddies.

  “And they fought, oh my god they fought all the time and it seemed like it was always about me. ‘You take her to soccer, I took her last week.’ ‘Give her something for dinner, I’m too tired and she’s too picky.’ The worst was when I was sick and one of them had to take care of me. I remember one time vomiting on the carpet and Cynthia screamed at me. ‘You couldn’t make it three more steps to the toilet? Now I gotta clean this up and I’m gonna be late for work.’ Actually, that day she decided to have me clean up the vomit—she said I that since I was seven I was old enough to take care of myself and stay at home alone. So she and Roger left me at home to clean up the vomit. Later I made myself a can of chicken soup and crackers. When they came home later, neither of them asked if I was feeling any better. Cynthia asked Roger if he was going to grill a steak or if she had to make spaghetti.”

  “Did you always call them by their names? Were they ever Mom and Dad to you?”

  “I called them that, but only because they made me. Once when I was twelve I called Roger by his first name and I thought he was going to smack me. You know what he said? He said, ‘We paid enough money for you. The least you can do is be appreciative and call us Mom and Dad.’ So I did. I think it also embarrassed them to their low-life friends that we didn’t get on and I didn’t think of them as parents. They’d failed, and in a big way.”

  It feels good and also scary to say all this out loud. Rex has listened so patiently, but I hope I haven’t freaked him out.

  “Well, there are some things I can certainly understand,” Rex says. “Right now, if your adoptive father was in front of me…” he shakes his head and doesn’t finish the statement. “And if it’s what you want, I hope you never have to see either of them again.”

  “Thanks. It’s weird. In some strange way, despite everything they did to me, they’re still the only parents I know,” I say. “Anyway, that’s why it feels a bit strange to me to have you be so nice to me. I’ve always had to be on my own. I had to put myself through college, and now if this acting thing doesn’t work out I have no idea what I’ll do. Going home is not an option because there is no home to go back to.”

  Rex nods. “It’s weird when home doesn’t really feel like home. My parents sent us to boarding school the moment we were old enough. So I never felt like my parents’ house was where I lived either.”

  “You grew up in boarding schools?” I ask. I knew he was an East Coast kid, but I didn’t know about not living with his parents, at least during the school years.

  “Yeah,” he says. He pulls his eyes away from the sheets and looks up at me. “Now eat your breakfast, young lady.”

  “Tell me something about your parents,” I say.

  “Eat.”

  “I’m serious,” I say. “I just unloaded on you about mine. You have to give me something, Rex. You can’t dodge the question forever.”

  He smiles that forces smile again. “Some other time. I promise. But for now I’d rather talk to you about our day,” he says. “I have some things planned out, or we can do nothing at all. It’s up to you.”

  Rex starts in on his ideas. He’s got the screener for a new drama that doesn’t come out until next Friday that we can watch in his private movie theater (“With movie theater–quality popcorn,” he assures me), or we can go for a hike in the hills above his house. We can even drive up to Big Bear to go skiing. “Fresh snowfall last night,” he says. “Three inches.”

  In the end we stay at his house all weekend. We watch the screener, eat the popcorn, and then make love. He shows me the rest of his house, and then we make love. He heats up the pool and we go swimming, and then we make love.

  “Love” might be a premature term, but I do know that it’s more than just sex between us. I can feel it. There’s something different, something special about Rex and me.

  I just wish he’d open up to me more. He keeps dodging questions about his family, and he hardly ever talks about work, even though he spends a fair amount of time on his phone sending emails or taking calls (in between the sex, of course. In those times he’s all about me).

  On Sunday evening he drives me back to my apartment, walking me up to the door and everything. When he kisses me, it’s not an end to the weekend; it’s a pause until next time.

  REX

  Work is turning into a nightmare.

  In the short time I’ve been with Addison I’ve slacked off on a thing or two, and when you’re at my level it doesn’t take long for shit to go sideways if it’s not taken care of quickly.

  When I walk through the doors Monday morning at seven-thirty, I know I have to hit it hard. The last thing I need is for my brothers—especially know-it-all big brother Jackson—to see that anything might be anything other than perfect.

  My executive assistant Julie arrives with my coffee, her notepad, and a pile of questions and problems to be solved.

  “Mackenzie has called twice now and wants to meet up before she leaves town,” Julie begins. “She and her husband will be heading back to Paris in a couple of days and hopes you can fit her in.”

  “Ugh, that’s a dig, huh?” I say. Mackenzie and I know each other from several work deals—our work paths often cross. She’s based in Paris but when she gets out west we like to meet up—strictly business-social, nothing sexual. H
er husband is a stand-up guy who plays a mean game of tennis. Mackenzie always gives me shit for being too busy so I really have to make time for them this week, even though the timing is rotten.

  “You blew her off last time,” Julie reminds me.

  “That’s because I had—what was I doing again?”

  “You had just broken up with Mandy.”

  “Monica,” I correct her. What can I say, Julie knows many details of my life.

  “Right. And Mackenzie knows you hate being a third wheel when Tommy is with her,” Julie says, and she’s totally right. “So you’ll have to deal with it and take them out to dinner anyway.”

  “Fine. Tell her dinner tomorrow night,” I say.

  “Dinner for three, you got it. How about that new French place in Santa Monica?”

  “Sure. And it’s dinner for four,” I say. After all, I can be with Addison and see Mackenzie and Tommy plus get a little work in with Mack before she heads back to Paris. It’ll be perfect.

  “Friday there’s the benefit which I know you’re dreading,” she quickly adds as I groan my disapproval. “You don’t have to stay long. Just through dinner, forget the dessert and all the drinks. The people from Stonewater are sitting at your table so I really think you should go.”

  “Fine, I’ll go.”

  “Great, I’ll make sure you’re sitting between Arnold and Devon,” she says, writing this down on her notepad. “They’re impossible to get in a meeting so this is as close as you’ll get.”

  “Put me down for plus one,” I tell Julie. She looks at me curiously but doesn’t ask any questions. She knows better. She also knows I never take women to work functions, and I consider charity events to be work functions like necessary evils. It’s how Father raised us. “Also call Rachel and have her send over outfits for both occasions. She knows the address.”

  “Shoes and accessories too?” Julie asks.

  “Of course,” I say.

  “Consider it done.”

  “Anything else?” I ask her.