by Ivy Layne
Holden glanced at me and said, "I did. Why?"
"I was thinking about bailing on my classes tomorrow. Maybe staying in bed all day," I said, keeping my face neutral, my voice even.
"Were you?" Holden asked, playing along. "I think a long weekend sounds like exactly what I need. As long as it involves you, naked. Bed optional."
"I can do that," I said, grinning at him, my heart swelling in my chest, the surge of joy at the love in his eyes almost too much to take. "As long as I'm with you, I have everything I need."
Holden parked the car, and I followed him to the elevator that would take us to his penthouse. Tomorrow was Friday. Barring any unforeseen crises, we had a three-day weekend stretching ahead of us, just Holden and me. Naked. I squeezed my legs together, feeling heat flood my pussy. We'd just had sex. How could I want him this much again? I remembered him unsnapping his jeans in his office and my plan to get my mouth on his beautiful cock.
Licking my lips, I glanced at the front of his jeans as the elevator carried us up to his floor. The second we cleared his door, I was going to strip him naked and have my way with him. Somehow, I didn't think Holden would mind.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped through, Holden's hand clasped in mine, ready for whatever was coming next.
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Chapter One
Tate
Go out to dinner with me.
No, thank you.
The conversation echoed in my head. No, thank you? Had she really turned me down? I couldn’t remember the last time a woman turned me down. For anything. My first reaction was to ignore her and pretend I didn’t care.
I couldn't do it.
I had no idea what it was about this girl that had so captured my attention. I’d only met her an hour ago, but I wanted her. I’d gone over to her apartment, geared up to confront her roommate over dumping my cousin, when Emily had opened the door and I’d tumbled head over heels after one look. It was the oldest cliche and one I’d never believed. Until now.
Taken part by part, she wasn't anything special. She shouldn't have been. Medium height, a little on the tall side but not quite tall. Long, straight, dark brown hair. Creamy skin. Gray eyes. And very, very curvy. Her faded jeans fit her sweet, full ass to perfection, and her sweater hung loose off one shoulder, clinging to her round tits. Her clothes hadn’t been chosen to show off her body, but they were too well cut to hide it.
Still, it was her eyes that got me. A clear, pure gray, like a lake in winter. She'd swung the door open, and I’d fallen in to those fathomless gray eyes. If I was being honest, I still hadn't pulled myself out.
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The Billionaire’s Secret - Novella Duology
The Billionaire’s Secret Heart
The Billionaire’s Secret Love
Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires
The Billionaire’s Pet
The Billionaire’s Promise
About the Author
Ivy Layne has had her nose stuck in a book since she first learned to decipher the English language. Sometime in her early teens, she stumbled across her first Romance, and the die was cast. Though she pretended to pay attention to her creative writing professors, she dreamed of writing steamy romance instead of literary fiction. These days, she’s neck deep in alpha heroes and the smart, sexy women who love them.
Married to her very own alpha hero (who rubs her back after a long day of typing, but also leaves his socks on the floor). Ivy lives in the mountains of North Carolina where she and her other half are having a blast raising two energetic little boys. Aside from her family, Ivy’s greatest loves are coffee and chocolate, preferably together.
For More Information:
AuthorIvyLayne
www.ivylayne.com
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The Billionaire’s Secret Heart
Copyright © 2016 by Ivy Layne
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Valorie Clifton
Cover by Jacqueline Sweet
Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at www.ivylayne.com
