Torrid_A Stone Billionaire Series Novel

by Kaya Woodward

  Book 1 Torrid

  Kaya Woodward

  Contents

  Torrid

  Part I

  1. Noah

  2. Tinsley

  3. Noah

  4. Tinsley

  5. Noah

  6. Tinsley

  7. Noah

  8. Tinsley

  9. Noah

  10. Tinsley

  11. Noah

  12. Tinsley

  13. Noah

  Part II

  14. Tinsley

  15. Noah

  16. Tinsley

  17. Noah

  18. Tinsley

  19. Noah

  20. Tinsley

  Part III

  21. Noah

  22. Tinsley

  23. Noah

  24. Tinsley

  25. Noah

  26. Tinsley

  27. Noah

  28. Tinsley

  29. Noah

  30. Tinsley

  31. Noah

  32. Tinsley

  33. Noah

  34. Tinsley

  35. Noah

  36. Tinsley

  37. Noah

  38. Tinsley

  39. Noah

  40. Tinsley

  41. Noah

  Exposure Bonus

  1. Ava

  2. Corban

  3. Ava

  Exposure - The Stone Billionaire Series Book Two

  Thank You!

  Torrid

  A Stone Billionaire Series Novel

  Book One

  By

  Kaya Woodward

  Email:

  woodwardkaya@gmail.com

  Facebook:

  Kaya Woodward Books

  Website

  http://www.kayawoodward.com/

  Facebook Group

  Kindle/E-Book Edition

  An original work by Kaya Woodward.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is coincidental.

  Cover art created by the author.

  Find more at KW Cover Design

  To my wonderful writing cat, Spirit, who’s kept me company throughout the process.

  And to my wonderful, loving, husband- my inspiration.

  Part I

  1

  Noah

  September 8, 2009

  “Hello, Tinsley,” I say into the phone.

  “Want to go for a run?” comes the reply. Tinsley’s voice is especially bright; it brings light to a dark day.

  “It's a perfect day to go for a run, and I arrived home yesterday,” she says.

  “Back from Italy?” It’s a simple question, and I already know the answer.

  “Mhmm, I was there six months,” she replies.

  I imagine her on the other end of the line, twirling her hair around a finger.

  She’s just a kid.

  Probably chewing bubble gum, as well.

  I keep waiting to hear the smack or pop that would verify my theory, but it doesn’t come.

  Despite our age difference, we’ve always had a close friendship. I’ve never been able to stop myself from being completely honest with her.

  I doubt she ever told her parents that.

  Her father would hardly approve of our level of emotional intimacy.

  I respect her, but I've always drawn our line at only friendship.

  For the sake of propriety at least.

  In the last year, I’ve felt a growing attraction to her, which I’m sure she feels as well.

  So far, the boys that have wanted to date her, don't measure up to her father's standards, and the ones that measure up to her his, don't measure up to mine.

  I'd still encourage her to go out with them anyway, but she always refused.

  “Why bother?” she would ask. “If you don't think it's a good idea, why bother going on a boring date that will ultimately go nowhere?”

  She would shrug, taking my opinion more seriously than anyone else’s.

  Tinsley is always searching for true love.

  Me?

  I don't believe such a thing exists.

  Back in the moment, I check the weather outside my office window.

  It’s a crisp, sunny September day.

  Good day for a run, indeed.

  “Did you enjoy your trip?” I ask.

  “I had no parents, no trouble, just relaxation, and books,” she announces cheerfully.

  Tinsley always finds something to be happy about.

  Her parents were moving along through an obvious marriage of convenience. I had always convinced myself nothing good came from arranged marriages.

  But, Tinsley ignores her parent's unhappiness, losing herself in books, and is brilliantly funny and intelligent.

  She's also snippy, spoiled, and acts exactly the way a well-raised woman who comes from Old Money does.

  “I'll meet you at Center Drive? Ok? I need a good run. I’ve got to clear my head about a couple of things,” I say.

  I’m sure she knows about the latest scandal in my life.

  “I heard everything,” she says, solemnly.

  Her voice slows. “How are you doing?”

  Although we are on the phone, I shake my head.

  Of course, I realize she can't see me, but it’s reflexive.

  It’s like she’s there in the room with me.

  “I'm fine. Ten minutes?” I say.

  “Ten minutes,” she answers.

  Her cheery voice sings, but I can tell she wants to probe further.

  As I walk up Center Drive, I don't see Tinsley.

  So, I jog a little further up the pedestrian pathway, and spy a young brunette woman, in light blue shorts.

  She stands out immediately.

  Her tanned skin contrasts with the aqua fabric that looks painted on.

  But, the only thing that occupies my immediate attention is an endless expanse of bronzed thigh.

  The woman’s shorts are hiked so high, pressed against her thighs, that I can almost see her bare ass.

  I watch, waiting for my running partner.

  The brunette props her leg up on the bench, stretching, leaning forward.

  Dear lord, her ass looks tight.

  I have to take a breath.

  I turn around for a moment, checking for anyone else in the areas.

  Still no sign of Tinsley.

  Where can she be?

  I don’t have a lot of time to do this today, but I figured I could squeeze in a short run, at least.

  I may end up having to begin without her.

  I sigh, turning my attention back to that luscious ass, and begin jogging over towards her.

  I may as well enjoy the show if Tinsley’s going to be late.

  It’s not like her, though, I think, getting closer to the brunette.

  Now, showing me just how flexible she is, the brunette is on the ground, doing splits, and then she lowers her leg flat on her stomach.

  I gawk at her display, and idly wonder what it would feel like to run my tongue along that hard body.

  Suddenly, a familiar face looks up at me.

  Tinsley.

  “Hello there, Noah,” she smiles.

  Her smile is easy going, free and clear of any worries.

  But, unlike I remembered, she looks seductive, grown up, and sexy.

  Her lips appear fuller; her hazel eyes spark
le in the morning sun as she looks up at me.

  She is still contorting her body, fussing with her muscles to make sure they are loose enough for our upcoming exertions. Some of the most wicked thoughts I have ever entertained about a woman now enter my mind.

  I scold myself as I think of the depraved things I want to do to her, to make her toes curl.

  “Tinsley, you've grown up,” I observe, needlessly.

  I feel foolish, like a boy asking a girl out, stammering to get the words right.

  "No glasses,” I say, grinning like a fool, and tapping the bridge of my own nose.

  I dare not touch her.

  Not now.

  This time, her smile seems almost secretive, like it's meant only for me.

  “Tinsley, you look incredible!” I say, finally able to control myself.

  Tinsley gets up to spin around in a circle for me, her sweater rising above her belly button, and I get another look at that taut stomach.

  Everything about her body is so tight, well-toned, and tanned.

  She runs rigorously, and she did ballet for years.

  She must do something else now.

  Her mother's Italian heritage contributes to her beauty, no doubt.

  Or maybe I was blind to all of this because it was always a hard limit.

  I cannot go down that road.

  She’s eighteen now. Almost nineteen.

  I’m aware of her age suddenly, now that I can treat her like a grown-up woman.

  “Thank you, Noah,” Tinsley says, accepting the compliment.

  A blush rises in her cheeks, and she clasps her hands together.

  Without her long hair to hide behind, her blush is charming.

  I’d like to think there were other reasons for it, other than my telling her she’s beautiful.

  I force that tiny, lustful voice back down into the dark recesses from whence it came.

  No need to lose control, Noah, old boy.

  “I believe last time, you called our race a draw,” Tinsley teases.

  “That was not a race,” I argue, “It was a slaughter!”

  I laugh as we walk towards the running path, around the reservoir.

  “So where did you go in Italy?” I ask casually.

  “Everywhere. I went to Venice, though, and we went to this little island called Burano. There’s a little hole in the wall restaurant, where they serve the most amazing sea food lasagna with white sauce. Divine wine! It’s extraordinary.”

  “That sounds amazing.” I smile at her.

  Tinsley returns my smile. “Maybe sometime I’ll take you there, if you’re lucky.”

  I laugh. “You know I have a place in Venice.”

  “Yes, but you’ve never been to Venice with me.” Tinsley counters.

  “Oh, and I suppose you know all the secrets?” I ask.

  Tinsley giggles and nods in return.

  I know that, if I tell her I want to run five times, she'll double it to ten.

  Tinsley, always competitive by nature aims to outdo me.

  I’m suddenly asking myself why I’ve line drawn at friendship?

  Now, I’m teetering that razor thin line.

  “Come on!”, she calls.

  “Old man!” Tinsley laughs at me. “You'd better win!”

  After a couple of laps, it is painfully obvious that the older she gets, the older I get.

  I'm still in fantastic shape, but within seven laps, the mid-September heat has me sweating through my long sleeve shirt.

  Suddenly, I get a wild idea.

  The devious devil inside me reacts, first by ripping my shirt over my head, then cinching it around my waist.

  I have a hard time finally catching up to Tinsley, because I cannot run and focus properly, with that luscious ass bouncing right in front of my nose.

  My god!

  That ass is pure perfection!

  I imagine pressing my nose right up against it, breathing in her scent, and suddenly I have another problem with which to contend.

  Running has suddenly become a matter of geometry, as my hard cock throws off my stride.

  This is not the girl I remember.

  Tinsley Whittaker, the daughter of one of my chief partners, is a full-grown woman at eighteen.

  I know now what I want.

  I want her.

  I can taste it.

  I can feel it.

  And, I want to possess her.

  All of her.

  Now.

  The beast inside me roars as she looks over her shoulder at me, subtly biting her lip and laughing at the obvious problem I am having while running.

  I keep trying to hide my huge erection, so it looks like I am flopping down the path, not running, not walking.

  It’s a penguin-sort of motion, and I feel ridiculous, but I dare not let her get a glimpse of my monster hardon.

  Tinsley stops short, giving me a quick once-over, as she pants and breathes out the endorphins.

  She has a come-hither expression on that beautiful face and grins widely at my pain.

  I stumble to a stop beside her, putting my hand on her shoulder for support, but also to hide my boner.

  Then, she motions for me to come forward, as she runs backward for a moment.

  I'm utterly hypnotized by the woman.

  Tinsley has removed her sweater, and she is running in a sports bra; her revealing shorts are almost too much for me to bear.

  I want to rip them off her, throw her to the grass. And make love to her until she’s screaming my name.

  If only she recognized the wild thoughts in my head, she’d no doubt be shocked speechless.

  Or, so I believe.

  She walks wide circles around me, taunting me with her youthful vigor, tempting me to teach her a hard lesson about maturity and age.

  And, experience.

  Then, I take a cold, hard look at her,

  Suddenly, I'm thinking the man she’s been looking for all along, might be me.

  I detest the idea, of anyone even touching her now.

  Is it just me being protective, in a fatherly manner?

  Maybe I want her for myself?

  Lost in my confused thoughts, I don’t see the sudden turn the path takes, and trip on the sidewalk.

  I plummet to the ground, skinning my knee, tearing my running pants, and then finally smacking my head a decent whack.

  I sit there, grunting in pain.

  My erection has vanished.

  Coward.

  Then, the world spins, and I'm on the ground, and on my back.

  I feel dizzy and see some stars and blink my eyes to clear them.

  I hope I don’t have a concussion.

  “Oh my god!” Tinsley exclaims, and now she's running for me, as I sit up to see my knee is bleeding.

  “Your head!” she exclaims.

  Tinsley touches the side of my head, and it stings.

  Her hand comes away bloody.

  “Are you okay Noah?” she says in her calm, soothing voice.

  “I'm fine Tinsley,” I growl at her.

  I’m angry and embarrassed at having been so inattentive, so stupid.

  “Don't snap at me, Stone! You big dummy! You're the one who fell!” she admonishes.

  “Sorry,” I grunt, not feeling it in the least.

  I sigh, looking up at her as she inspects my head.

  “I don't think it needs stitches, but I'm not a doctor, and I doubt you'll go to a hospital,” she says as she inspects my head, closely.

  I can smell her sweat, and the faint perfume she’s wearing.

  My cock is beginning to show signs of life again.

  I guess I will survive after all.

  “No, and no,” I confirm her observation.

  Shaking my head, I notice that my lips are dangerously close to hers.

  Dangerously.

  She blushes again, and I boldly wonder if I can steal a kiss?

  Her pink lips are incredibly tempting.

  I would kis
s her often, were she mine, I promise myself.

  Then Tinsley moves to get up.

  “I'm cleaning you up, Stone. Come with me,” she commands.

  She stands there, wiping her bloody hand on her running shorts.

  The blood leaves a small smear, marking her as mine, I think, crazily.

  “Is that you giving in?” I ask, slyly.

  “You're hurt, dummy,” she says, pointing to my head.

  Obviously, she is unimpressed.

  “Come on, Noah,” she says, exasperated.

  Tinsley holds out her hand to help me up, I wouldn't usually take it, but I'm suddenly desperately craving her touch.

  So, I let her help me up, even though I'm just fine on my own.

  The sparks are there.

  We both know it.

  Standing next to her, I gaze deeply into her hazel eyes.

  She meets my look, unashamed, and raw, as I turn my eyes down on her, staring at her, boring into her soul.

  “Noah,” she whispers, and then she bites her lip, turning her away and taking a deep breath.

  This woman must have feelings for me.

  It’s right there, engraved on her face, in the way she stands facing me, her hips boldly arranged to best present her astounding assets.

  Her ass juts out at the most seductive angle.

  I can’t stand it!

  She must know, must be able to sense the effect she’s having on me.

  I notice her sports bra is sprouting two small bumps, and even though it’s chilly, I make a wager with myself that it’s not the cold making her swell.