Bound To Cobalt (Bound To The Billionaires Book 3)

by Coco Miller

  “How dare you talk to me like that.” There’s no heat in her words as she stares at my lips. “I...I don’t know you.”

  I lift off her and bring her with me. I kiss her cheek, close my eyes and inhale her vanilla scent. I bet she tastes she as good.

  “You will, love. We will know each other very soon.”

  I brush her hair over her shoulder and wrap my palm around her slender neck, lean down and ghost my lips over hers. I want to bury my tongue in her mouth and claim her lips for my own, but she’s not ready for that. Hell, she’s not ready for this either, but I have to taste her. I have to know what her lips feel like against mine to make sure I’m not losing it because I’m actually losing my mind or if I can place blame on Ella.

  Her lips give, curving into mine, melding against mine in perfect harmony. They lock like puzzle pieces and my mind is lost to the feel of her against me. I’ve never felt like I’ve belonged somewhere. For years, I’ve felt out of place with my family, with my country, with everyone around me. Right here, right now, every choice I’ve ever made has led to me to this moment with Ella.

  This feels exactly right.

  I belong to her.

  And yes, I’m lying to her about who I am, but in the scheme of things, does it really matter? My status is just that, but this feeling between us is stronger.

  She gasps and it takes all I have not to dive my tongue inside and slide it against hers, but I use my self−control and pull away, laying my forehead against hers.

  “What was that?” she asks, trying to catch her breath.

  Me losing my mind, that’s what.

  Chapter Six

  Ella

  I’ve never been so happy.

  For two weeks I have spent every free moment of my time with Rowan and it has been amazing. He is spoiling me. He has come to my job everyday bringing me gifts and flowers. I’m starting to think that he knows me better than I know myself. The clothes he buys, they are sexy but conservative, made out of the finest silks and the way they fit me, it’s like he knows my measurements.

  “You are happy today,” Monica says, placing my drink down on the vanity as I get ready for my show. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that Scottish hunk you’re seeing, would it?”

  “He’s Irish and maybe,” I mutter, staring at the large bouquet of red roses he had delivered earlier. A part of me is worried he is only in it for the thrill of dating a stripper and that he only calls me a dancer when he’s trying to reassure me. It’s so hard to believe that he truly likes me for who I am when he is obviously so much more refined than I am.

  And then of course there’s the big secret hanging over every minute we spend together. What’s he going to do when he finds out I owe a loan shark a shit ton of money?

  I haven’t told him because there’s only so much he needs to know about me before he moves on or goes back to England. I’m not stupid. He’s not in the states indefinitely, so I know where this goes. I know how it ends. I’m probably going to fall head over heels in love with him and he is going to forget me the moment he steps foot on English ground. Every time I think about it, my heart aches. I know I’m already half−way in love with him and the moment he leaves, I’m going to be devastated.

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t whisked you away yet,” Monica plucks a rose from the vase and buries her nose in it, inhaling the floral scent.

  “It’s because she won’t let me.”

  “Rowan!” I jump from my chair and jump into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to convince you to run away with me,” he smirks before giving me a quick kiss. “Or at least play hooky so we can have a night together and I won’t have to feel the intense rage of these men staring at you tonight, aye?”

  “Oh wow.” Monica fans herself with the rose. “It’s like that?”

  “I can’t. Bobby will be mad. You know this.”

  “I’ll take care of him.”

  I peek over my shoulder to look at my friend who’s gawking at the two of us.

  “Hey, Monica, could you give us some privacy?”

  “Sure.” She squeezes by us and gives me a small grin with two thumbs up.

  I pull Rowan into the room and shut the door. It’s dangerous being alone with him. My heart pounds. My pussy gets wet and I can’t think straight. It’s taken so much self−control not to give in and sleep with him, but it’s the only thing I have to fall back on, knowing I didn’t give myself over to him completely only for him to leave me.

  “You can’t do that. You can’t fight my battles. We hardly know each other. I love spending time with you, but there are things about this that just can’t work. There are things I don’t know about you and things you don’t know about me. We have to stop fooling ourselves before this gets out of hand, okay?”

  “Out of hand?” he repeats, running his hand harshly through his luscious head of hair. “Out of hand how?” He bounces on his heels and I can tell his temper is rising.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, love, I don’t believe I do. You need to tell me.”

  Rowan takes a few steps forward, invading my space with his broad shoulders and rich cologne. It makes me lightheaded and clouds my mind. I lose my train of thought. He’s wearing a tailored suit and all I can think about is what his body looks like under it. We have yet to spend the night with each other, only catching a few hours in between my work hours.

  I’ve been too afraid to rope him into the drama of my life. I’m afraid he will want nothing to do with me when he finds out the truth. It’s every girl’s dream to want to get whisked away by a knight in shining Irish freaking armor, but I’m not good for him. My shit is messy, but every time I try to push him away like right now, he makes me forget why.

  Although, he’s sort of an enigma himself. There are things about him that are too mysterious, like why he is always ignoring his phone and why I can recognize his face in certain lights or the way he smiles. He’s hiding something from me and I can’t put my finger on it. Is he married? Does he have a cute little English wife and two kids back at home?

  “Why are you picking a fight? When are you going to trust me?” he says, taking my jaw in his hand.

  “When you trust me,” I retaliate. The problem here isn’t the attraction we have for one another, it’s the fact that no matter how much we give over to one another, at the end of the day, we are still keeping secrets. I have mine but he has his too.

  His phone rings and when he takes it out of his pocket, he puts it on silent.

  “See! Stop doing that,” I hiss. “You always do that. Are you married, Rowan?”

  “Married?”

  “Yes, married!”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well then you must be ashamed of me. Is that why you never answer your phone when we are together. Is that why I’ve never met this so-called friend you are here to visit? If you don’t want to be seen with a stripper, maybe you should just go,” I push his chest. “The last two weeks were nice and thanks for the gifts, but I should have known better.”

  Tears sting my eyes when I think about all of our conversations after work into the early morning hours. We’ve talked about everything yet still managed not to say anything personal about ourselves.

  Now that I really think about it, I’ve fallen in love with the illusion of a man. Why didn’t I ever stop myself from walking into the main room that night? I have rules in place for a reason. Every other man that has ever asked for me, I’ve turned down, but Rowan, just one glance of his piercing green eyes and my defenses crumble.

  “Or maybe you’re ashamed of me,” he counters fiercely. “Why haven’t I seen where you live? Why don’t I know more about you? This is your country. Your town. Why haven’t I met any of your friends or your family? I want to know everything. All the good things and all the darkness, Ella. Every last bit of it. I want to be apart of every single shadow, hardship, heartache, problem, and solution. I want it a
ll and you’ve been the only person I want it with. Don’t you see that?”

  “You’re kidding right?” I step out of his hold and point to my body. I’m wearing a lace teddy and nipple pasties and he is in an Armani suit that hugs his muscular frame and makes the flecks of red in his hair brighter. “Look at us. We are so different. This would never work. I can’t show you my life, Rowan. This is my life. What you see.”

  “I don’t believe that for a single moment, love. I’d bet anything there is more to you. You just don’t want me to know.”

  “I can say the same for you. And I mean what am I going to do, Rowan? Bring you to my rundown home when you’re used to penthouse views and thousand-dollar champagne? All I do there is watch bad tv, eat crap, and cut coupons for my mother–”

  “Your mother?” His voice drops as if he’s getting angry.

  “Don’t change the subject,” I snap. I haven’t talked about my mother or anything personal with him for a reason. “It’s been a good vacation, Rowan, but it’s time to face this for what it is. The stripper and the man with buckets of money, that isn’t getting a happy ending, it’s a movie. Please, just go.”

  Before I lose myself completely.

  “No.”

  “Rowan, stop making this so hard.”

  “Stop fighting it. You’re the one that’s making it difficult.” He wraps his arms around me grabbing the back of my neck like he always does when he wants to kiss me. “Stubborn woman,” he growls before pressing his lips to mine and my resolve breaks and I remember the last two weeks of us walking the strip hand in hand, talking and laughing and kissing. Just like he promised, there were no expectations and not once did he make me feel cheap. It’s been the greatest two weeks of my life.

  That’s why I’m scared shitless.

  Rowan unbuttons his blazer and shrugs off the rich black fabric, showing the gunmetal grey shirt that shows his impeccable biceps. The thick ropes show through the fabric as they flex when he tosses the jacket over my shoulders and buttons it in the middle. It hangs to my knees and covers my lingerie.

  “Shit, you look fucking good in that,” he grumbles. His finger runs down the middle of my chest and liquid heat pools between my legs, soaking my underwear.

  “Rowan, “ I say breathlessly, my eyes fluttering shut as the trail he leaves behind from his fingertip heats me to the core.

  “How can you fight this between us? This is real. We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

  “You know why we have to fight this,” I say.

  I yelp when I’m lifted in the air and when I open my eyes to see Rowan staring me down and carrying me out of the employee lounge. “Put me down.”

  “No.”

  “Rowan,” I warn. “I’ll kick you.”

  “Go ahead, love. I’ll take it in stride.”

  “You’re impossible. You can’t just take things,” I mumble.

  I’ll never tell him how much I love it when he takes control.

  “Watch me.”

  He kicks the door open, the sun beaming down on my eyes causing me to go blind for a few seconds since the club is so dark on the inside. He sets me down beside a matte black Aston Martin and opens the door, placing his hand in the middle of his stomach as if I’m precious cargo. As if I’m royalty.

  He always makes me feel that way.

  The leather seats hug my curves and never in my life have I ever been in such luxury. Gosh, the reasons why I don’t belong with him keeping adding up. The list is long and the one where I want to be with him is short, but it’s the only one that matters. It’s hard not to be intimidated though.

  The black leather seats with red trim are the softest thing I’ve ever felt against my body. Rowan climbs in and when he turns on the car, the engine rumbles and since I’m only wearing lace panties, the vibrations tickle my virgin clit and a whimper escapes me.

  This is about to be the longest ride of my life.

  I just hope I survive it.

  Chapter Seven

  Rowan

  I keep my arm tightly around her as the elevator climbs to the penthouse suite. My phone rings again but it can only be two people, either my brother or Duncan. I take a quick peek and decide to ignore it. Shite, it’s my brother but my only concern is Ella right now.

  I’ve decided the only way I’m going to accept the crown is if she is next to me. She’s made me feel more alive in my entire life than I ever have. I just have to convince her to get on board.

  Ella’s leg are long and smooth. As I look down while the elevator rises, I can’t help but to reach down and touch her thigh, brushing my thumb over the lean muscle. My cock is rock hard and the lust I’ve felt for her since I saw her for the first time has been building and building to the explosive point it is at now.

  I can’t take it anymore.

  “Ella,” I growl, spinning her around and slamming her against the elevator wall. I lift her arse with my hands and wrap her legs around my waist, turn my head, and press my lips against hers. “Ella,” I moan with need before finding her lips again. Fuck, I can’t get enough of her lips. So soft and warm. I’ve imagined them kissing down my body until she’s wrapped those lips around my dick and sucking me dry.

  I wrap her hair around my wrist, tugging her head back and thrust my hips at the same time. I could rip her panties off right now, unzip my pants, and fuck my cock into her tight heat and finally claim what’s mine, but she deserves more than a quick fuck in an elevator.

  I turn my head to the right, taking control of the kiss. I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and she groans. As she tilts her head back, her lip slides from my teeth with a pop. I take the chance to explore her neck, nibbling and biting her beautiful soft flesh. I suck on her skin, ravenous for more of her taste until a darker hue takes over her skin. I smirk to myself when I see my mark.

  Nothing is more beautiful.

  I thrust my hips again and the most angelic sound leaves her throat, the vibrations tickling my mouth since I’m dining on her neck like a four−course meal. I make sure to thrust in the same spot, hitting her clit with the wide tip of my cock. I can’t wait to hear her make those noises in bed and really make her sing.

  “Fuck, Ella, you’re killing me,” I place my forehead on her shoulder at the same time the elevator dings.

  Her chest rises quickly with every heavy pant escaping her lungs. Her fingers are digging into my back and her body is trembling beneath my touch. All I need to do is type in the code and the doors will open to the penthouse but I can’t seem to let her go.

  I’ve waited too long to feel her this close. If this goes any further, I need to tell her the truth about who I am. I can’t sleep with her without her knowing that I’m a Prince and that my duty is not here but back in England. She already thinks that she isn’t good enough for me. She’s already tried to end this before it even begins. When I tell her that I’m richer than she could ever imagine, I know that she will try to leave me.

  And I’m not ready for that.

  I’m too selfish.

  I need to make her love me. I need to make her not want to live without me. I want her to not be able to breathe without me, because that’s how I am starting to feel every time I look at her, every time I touch her, every time I inhale her vanilla scent—I can’t fucking breathe. She consumes me. I want to do that for her. I want her to be able to look at me when I tell her the truth about me and take it in stride and be at my side. I want her to be my future queen, in every literal and metaphorical sense.

  I just have to be careful. She picked a fight with me today because she can feel my intensity. It’s scaring her, I think, and I don’t want to frighten her away.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  Shaking my head, I clutch her body tighter, my fingers almost touching with how small her waist is. I’m battling with myself. The deceit, the lies, the secrets, is it worth it? Is it worth a night in bed with her and to hope for her forgiveness?

  Fuc
k it.

  Yes.

  I’ll fight for her forgiveness if I have to.

  I punch in the code on the elevator, the doors sliding open to the penthouse and I throw my mouth on hers again, lifting her by her arse and carrying her inside. I can’t make it to the bedroom. I need her now. Our tongues collide and her hands run down the plains of my back. She knows exactly where to touch and when to touch, driving me mad with lust. I growl into her mouth and plop her on the counter, ripping the buttons off my five-thousand-dollar blazer she is wearing as I tear it from her lithe body.

  Her work outfit comes to view and I take a step back to admire her. Her skin against the white marble of the counter is like night and day, her lips are swollen from our kiss, and her nipples are beaded beneath the lace she’s wearing. Fuck, I’m glad no one saw her in this.

  After tonight, she’s never going back to that place. She’ll only ever know the finest things, foods, shoes, everything. She’ll be catered to. I’ll take care of her.

  She tries to cover her beautiful breasts, but I lift my hand, stopping her from blocking me to look at what is mine.

  “You’re exquisite,” I say, captivated by her beauty. Her skin gives off a golden glow when the light reflects off it, as if embedded in her deeply hued skin are flecks of actual gold. Fucking gorgeous. I run my knuckles down her arm, noticing that she inhales a sharp breath when my knuckle grazes the side of her breast. “I’ve never seen a woman like you before. You’re an enigma. So shy, yet so confident in her abilities.”

  I say ability because of how she dances. It’s like nothing else exists for her except the performance. She’ll only perform for me for now on.

  I’ll install a pole in our room. A room that we will share one day and one day soon. It’s something I know, something I feel. It’s instant with her. I’m obsessed. Oh, I fucking need her next to me and I won’t leave this damn country until she is.

  “What are we doing?” she asks at the same time the skinny strap of her top falls down her shoulder.