His to Protect: A Second Chance Billionaire & Virgin Romance

by Vivien Vale

  My phone rings, and it’s Paris. I think about not answering, but I do, and I hold the phone against my ear.

  “We’re going out for lunch,” she says.

  “I don’t think I’m up to it,” I say. “I feel sick.”

  “It wasn’t a question. Shower and get dressed. I’m coming to your place in an hour. If you’re not out of bed and ready for me by the time I get there, I’ll drag you out of bed and put you in the shower myself.”

  She hangs up. I shake my head at the phone and groan. Paris is the only person that knows what happened. She knew about Wes, so it was easy to explain, and she’s my best friend.

  I get out of bed because I know she’s not joking about dragging me out of bed if I don’t do it myself. Paris might fool around a lot when it comes to big life decisions, but she’s the most loyal friend I have. If the same thing happened to her, the roles would be reversed, and I would be the one threatening her on the phone.

  An hour later, I’m dressed and ready for her. My hair is still damp, but I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a cartoon print on it and ballet flats. I’m not wearing makeup – that’s pushing it – but I open the door, and she smiles.

  “Come on,” she says. “You look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

  I know I have dark circles under my eyes. I don’t know why, because it feels like sleeping is all I’ve been doing.

  We go out to Brenda’s Meat and Three, a very casual restaurant with southern food. When we arrive, a waitress leads us to the back of the dining area, and we sit down in a booth. I slide into the black leather seat. Paris sits opposite me.

  “So, tell me,” she says.

  I roll my eyes. “It’s such bullshit,” I say. “What did I do to deserve this?” I sigh. “I guess it’s my fault, too, because I did sleep with him and I wasn’t as careful as I should have been. But still, this can’t be the end for me. It’s not fair. And Wes, God.” I’m getting angrier as I speak. “He will just bounce back from this. It’s so typical. He’ll probably be able to shrug it off while I have nothing left.” I bury my face in my hands. “Is this what I get for conspiring against the company?”

  Paris shakes her head. “So, you move on. You’ll figure something out, I know you.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I can fix this.”

  “You’ll find a way. You know what we need? Beignets.”

  I laugh. “I haven’t even eaten food yet.”

  “So?” Paris says. “You’re eating your emotions. Might as well make it worth your while.”

  I chuckle, and Paris orders us two coffees and beignets.

  “So, I’m assuming you’re not talking to him, anymore?” Paris asks when the waitress leaves. I shake my head.

  “What would I talk to him for? He’s the reason I lost my job.”

  Paris stays quiet and lets me speak.

  “Besides, it was never going to work, anyway. It’s not like we would fit into each other’s lives. The only thing we had in common was RidgeCo, and now that’s gone. I’ll probably never see him again. He was so good to me, too, when I just started, making sure I was set. He taught me a couple of things, and he stuck up for me.”

  I take a deep breath and blow it out with a shudder. “Maybe that’s what made me think he’s a nice guy. I never should have abandoned my original plan.” It doesn’t come out very convincing, even to my own ears.

  Paris frowns at me. “He does sound like a nice guy,” she says.

  “And hot. God, if you could see this guy. But he’s out of the picture now, and good riddance.” A little bit of the anger returns and I embrace it. I prefer it over all the other things I’m feeling. Anger makes me feel like I can handle everything.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Well, I’m not going to see him again, that’s for sure.”

  Paris smiles. “I meant about a job.”

  I sigh and shrug my shoulders. Our coffee arrives and we stop talking while the waitress puts our cups in front of us. When she’s gone I pour sugar and milk into my coffee and stir it.

  “Maybe I apply as a receptionist somewhere else.”

  “With your MBA?” Paris asks. “I’m sure you deserve more than that. Hell, I don’t even have a job or a qualification or anything and I think I deserve more than that.”

  I shake my head. “But I’ve been fired from a good position. If I apply to another they’re going to ask why and I’ll never get the job. I’m worried I got the job because of Wes, anyway, and no other reason. He just hired me so he could fuck me over in the first place. I guess I should congratulate him. He managed to do it, after all.”

  Paris leans her elbows on the table and sips her coffee carefully.

  “I can’t tell if you’re mad at him or yourself.”

  “What? No. Him. Obviously. He’s the reason I’m in this mess. I mean, I am, too, but if he wasn’t so damn hot.”

  I know I sound stupid so I stop talking and sip my coffee.

  The beignets arrive and they look fantastic. Paris was right, I’m about to eat my emotions and I might as well do it properly.

  “God, this is good,” I say, biting into the delicious, sugary dough. “Comfort food makes everything better.”

  Paris nods, eating, too, and for a while we just sit together.

  “You liked what you did?” Paris asks.

  I look up at her. “The project managing?”

  She nods.

  “Yeah,” I say. “A lot. And I was good at it, too. Wes told me that my ideas were better than anything he’s seen, and that’s saying something, considering how many projects he’s overseen the last while.”

  Paris smiles and shakes her head, looking at the food she’s eating. I frown at her.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s nothing,” she says. “You don’t want to hear it.”

  I groan. “Obviously, now I do. What? Tell me.”

  Paris sighs and reaches for her coffee.

  “Well, you’re talking about him a lot,” she says.

  I blink at her. “Of course. He’s responsible for all of this.”

  Paris shakes her head. “I hear you, but you’re saying lot of good things about him, too. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “What?” I ask, lowering the beignet I was about to sink my teeth into. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Paris shakes her head. “I’m not. I’m just looking at you raving about how terrible this guy is and then finding something to redeem him, every time.”

  I shake my head back and forth. There’s no way I’m in love with him. I don’t date. I don’t do relationships and love and all that. I’ve seen how it can ruin someone’s life. My mom and dad are perfect examples. Relationships never end well. If it wasn’t for my gran, I don’t think my mom and I would have gotten through it. I told myself I would never follow in her footsteps. If you don’t fall in love, your heart can’t be broken.

  I focused on my studies, instead, and it was so much more rewarding than a relationship.

  “I’m not in love with him,” I say again.

  Paris is smiling. “Whatever you say, Ky.”

  She can’t be right. I won’t accept that. It’s bad enough that Wes has been my downfall, that I was unable to resist him and that I’m in this hole in my life, now. I can’t be in love with the man, too. My life would be a lie then.

  But of course, I’ve already done so many things I never thought I would do. And I liked it. I fucked him, repeatedly, and I wanted more. And now?

  Now I’m sitting here, eating comfort food, talking about a man that I shouldn’t be thinking about twice if he really doesn’t mean anything to me. He’s out of my life, after all.

  But Paris is right. I know she is. I hate her for it – she’s always had a knack for knowing how I feel before I do – but with this, I don’t want her to be right. I can’t afford to be in love with this man. Or any man. My life is in shambles, and he’s a spoiled, rich ass.


  A very handsome, fucking-good-in-bed ass. That I admittedly wish I didn’t have to walk away from.

  But this mess that I’m in because of him is exactly the reason I shouldn’t be with him or love him or even think about any of those things. Because men are nothing more than heartaches.

  “I’m better off without him,” I say to Paris, but I sound so unconvincing that I don’t even believe myself.

  Wes

  When I leave breakfast with Hendricks, I know exactly what I need to do. He gave me back my job as CEO, but there is something more that needs to be done. If anyone asked me a week ago if I would go this route, I would have fought against it tooth and nail, but it’s amazing what a woman will do to a man.

  This isn’t just about my career. It’s about Kylie Jordan, the woman who managed to change my life by being herself. I didn’t think I would ever trust a woman again, but she’s something else, and I need to make it right. I need to make it work for her, at least, even if I can’t make it happen for myself.

  Hendricks is a reasonable man. When I told him how I felt about everything that happened and how it placed Kylie at a disadvantage, Hendricks didn’t seem very worried, even knowing what happened all those years ago with her mother. When I told him how I felt about her, he didn’t care all that much. When I showed him her work, he was interested. Everyone has something that tugs at their heartstrings. For Hendricks, it’s passion for your work.

  Kylie is the definition of passion and dedication to her career.

  I’m headed to Alamo Square Park where Hendricks’s assistant has gotten reporters from all the major news stations together. I have something I need to say to the masses. As the CEO for RidgeCo, I’ve appeared in public on behalf of the company often enough that this is the one place where I might be able to make a difference.

  When I arrive at the podium, the microphones are set up, and a group of reporters, news readers and cameramen are clustered in front of it.

  This isn’t my first rodeo, but for the first time, I’m nervous. It’s the first time I’m saying something this serious. It’s the first time I really care about how my speech is going to be received.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” I say when I step onto the podium. Mics and recording devices are shoved in my direction. “Thank you for coming here on such short notice. As you all know I’ve been CEO at RidgeCo for a few years, now. Recently, I was involved in allegations of a sexual nature. Whether these were true or not, it jeopardized my career and that of a woman that was involved as well.”

  “Who is she?” someone asks.

  “Kylie Jordan is a new project manager. I hired her to join the team, and from day one she did everything in her power to make the project run as smoothly as possible.”

  “We heard about the scandal,” another reporter says, “are the allegations true?”

  I take a deep breath. This is it, the moment of truth.

  “Yes,” I say. “They are. But it is through no fault of Miss Jordan, and if anyone should be punished, it’s me. She insisted that it was wrong, but I’m too stubborn for my own good. The truth is…” I hesitate because I’m about to make a confession I’ve only recently admitted to myself. “I’m in love with her. When you know, you know, and it’s impossible to stay away from someone.”

  A murmur ripples through the crowd, and I see pens scribble on paper at a furious rate.

  “Does that mean that company rules can be broken for the pursuit of love?” someone from the back asks.

  I shake my head. “Absolutely, not. Which is why I’m resigning as CEO of RidgeCo.”

  Chatter erupts, and I give them some time to wrap their mind around the news. Truth be told, I’m still working on accepting my decision.

  “What will happen to her?” someone asks.

  “That’s all,” I say because I don’t know how to answer all the questions. Kylie isn’t speaking to me. When I step off the podium, I take a deep breath. No matter what happens now, I think I did the right thing.

  And that’s all that matters, even when it’s a little late.

  I get in my car, and I’m on my way home when my phone rings. Kylie’s name pops up on the caller ID, and I can’t believe she wants to speak to me, now.

  “Can I see you?” she asks when I answer. It’s more than I bargained for.

  “Of course,” I say. “Come over to my place.”

  “I’m already at your place,” she says and hangs up.

  I step on the gas to get home as soon as possible. I’m thrilled she wants to talk to me face to face. When she walked away from me in the lobby, not even looking over her shoulder at me, I was sure I would never see her again. The idea ripped me apart.

  When I park my car and walk to the front door, she’s waiting for me. She’s dressed in jeans and a tank top with ballet flats. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, and I realize I’ve never seen her this casual. RidgeCo is a top-notch company, and she looked put-together even when she was a receptionist.

  She’s beautiful like this – her raw beauty shining through. I like this so much more than all the jewelry and makeup and dressy clothes.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” I say when I reach her. Her arms are folded over her chest like she needs to physically hold herself together and I can’t tell the emotion on her face.

  “I got a call from Mr. Hendricks earlier,” she says. “He’s offering me my job back.”

  I’m relieved. I needed Hendricks to do this, and he came through for me. He’s a solid man.

  “I’m so happy for you,” I say. I know she had a difficult past and that money is more of an object than it should be. I am relieved that she as her income back, now.

  She hesitates. I unlock my front door and hold it open for her, letting her step in first. She does so without thinking about it twice. After we’re inside the door, and I close it, I turn around to find her with tears in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I saw you on television, earlier,” she says. “I heard what you said.”

  “I hope you know that I mean it,” I say.

  She swallows and nods. The first tears spill over her cheeks.

  “I know. I didn’t think you felt that way about me. I mean, after everything we did.”

  I shake my head and put my hand on her cheek. “Darling girl, you’ve managed to crawl under my skin when I least expected it. I am in love with you.”

  She smiles, and more tears roll down her cheeks.

  “That’s why I’m here,” she says. “I heard it, and I want you to know something.” I look into her eyes, and they’re drowning in tears.

  “I love you, too,” Kylie says.

  I don’t know how it happened that this woman became as important to me as she is, but my heart warms when she tells me she loves me, too.

  I pull her close to me and kiss her, my hand on her cheek. Her body is pressed flush against mine, and I can feel every curve, from the swell of her breasts to the curve of her hips. But that’s not what it’s about right now. I want to be with her, and not just for sex. I want her to be my girlfriend. By some miracle, ten years after my heart was ripped out and spat on, I fell in love again.

  She puts her arms around my neck, and I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her even closer. She parts her lips and my tongue slides into her mouth. She tastes familiar, and I realize that this feeling – with her tongue in my mouth and her body pressed tightly against mine – is home.

  I pull her into the living room, and we collapse on the couch in a tangle of limbs. We make out like teenagers, feeling and touching carefully as if we’re unsure if the other will break. Her kiss is different – gentle and passionate and so much more intimate than it’s ever been before – and I think it’s about the emotion behind it. For the first time, I feel what it means to truly love someone.

  My hand roams her body, because I can’t help it. She’s so hot, her curves are pressed against my body and I wanted to touch and love every inc
h of her. This is more than about sex – although sex with her is fucking fantastic. It’s about being with her. It’s about our connection. It’s about loving her and knowing that she loves me back.

  Of course, I can’t help but get hard. Her body is pressed up against mine, and I’m kissing her. Our kissing becomes more passionate, more urgent. She gyrates her hips, and I know she can feel me. She grinds against me, and I’m overwhelmed by the need to be inside her.

  I break the kiss and take her hand, leading her to my bedroom. I want her, and I want her now. When we’re in the room, I lay her down on the bed and crawl over her, kissing her again. I work my way down her, moving her clothes here and there to plant kisses on her bare skin in a trail down her body.

  I undo her pants and peel her jeans down her legs one by one. When I’ve gotten rid of her pants, I run my hands up her smooth legs. She’s got the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.

  Her panties are next to go, and I slowly move them down her legs as well. I drop them on the floor with the jeans.

  I spread her thighs with my hands and kneel between her legs. I dip my head between her legs and lick her pussy lips.

  She’s already wet. Her scent is intoxicating, making me dizzy and when I drag my tongue up her slit, her taste is sweet, the taste of sex.

  She gasps when I flick my tongue over her clit. I pay attention to her clit for a while, flicking my tongue over her. Then, I close my lips over her clit and suck. She cries out. I know she loves it when I do this. I push a finger into her, and she gasps, squirming against my mouth and my hand.

  I want to keep doing this to her, but I want to be more involved, too. She’s half-naked and half-orgasmic. I want both of us to get there all the way. I let her go and peel the shirt I wore to the press conference off my body. I get rid of my pants and my boxers.

  When I’m naked, Kylie is, too. She got undressed when I did, and she’s naked on my bed.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” I say.

  She blushes. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the red flush on her cheeks. She’s so beautiful when she blushes and when she smiles. When she does anything. And she’s so sincere.