Girl Meets Billionaire

by Brenna Aubrey et al.

  And suddenly the control was no longer mine. One hand settled at the back of my neck, careful not to twine in my hair while he laid me open with nothing more than his tongue and lips. His tongue delved into my mouth and I couldn’t breathe, dizzy with desire. I wanted to whisper his name but I couldn’t say anything with the contact so intimate, so deep. And this night it would be deeper still. Fear trembled in my belly. I was actually going to go to bed with a man. This beautiful man.

  His mouth left mine, traveling along my jaw to take my earlobe between his lips. His caresses were white hot and ice cold at once. Everything in the center of me curled into a tangled tension, crying for release.

  His teeth grazed my earlobe and I whispered his name. His mouth and tongue blazed a trail across my neck, my throat. Each touch made my body jump. I arched my breasts into his chest. A deep groan emanated from the bottom of his chest, the first vocal acknowledgement of his arousal.

  “Let’s go inside,” I said, emboldened, my center feeling as if it was on fire and he the only one in the vicinity holding an extinguisher. The boldness was an act. Inside I was shaky and not a little terrified of what this night would be like.

  Adam stepped back and took my hand to lead me inside. A rush of warm air surrounded me as we stepped into the bedroom. I thought he would pull me toward the bed, but he stopped beside the couch against the wall. He removed my wrap from my shoulders, slinging it over the back. Then he unbuttoned his coat and did the same. But his eyes never left mine and mine never left his, which glowed like coals under a bonfire.

  I was in no doubt now, if I ever had been, really, that he wanted me. That it was as powerful and as ferocious a want as the one singing through my own veins. Before he said another word, I turned toward the bed while I still had the courage. “No,” he said, stopping me. “Not yet.”

  I turned back to him and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me down with him onto the sofa. I landed in his lap and he was kissing me again—hungrily pressing his mouth to mine, my neck, my throat…and then lower. When he pulled his face away, he looked up at me, his eyes glazed with desire and his features flushed. He lifted a hand to my shoulder, stroking softly along my upper arm.

  “Your skin is so soft,” he said, his fingers gliding over me as if he’d never touched a woman before.

  “Vitamin E,” I said lamely when I didn’t know what else to say. What does one say when the man who is about to sleep with you lavishes you with compliments? “Thank you” seems kind of stupid.

  His eyes didn’t leave mine. His hand traveled gently along my collarbone. “Here, too.”

  I let out a slow breath, excitement jumping into my throat. His touch was igniting new fires I never knew lay dormant in my body—between my legs, all over. My eyes fluttered closed, concentrating on his touch.

  His hands stroked lower, dipping into the V between my breasts. “And here,” he murmured. And before another moment passed, he pulled me off his lap and sat me beside him on the couch, slipping one strap off my shoulder. I felt the cool air touch my naked breast.

  Here we go, I thought. It was not unlike staring over an abyss from atop a rollercoaster that had just paused before plummeting full speed down the hill. My stomach dropped.

  I opened my eyes. He was watching me as his hand came up to cup my breast. The breath hissed out between my teeth, and his eyes—if it was even possible—seemed to darken.

  I’d never exposed myself to a man before. Not like this. Back when I’d dated, there’d been the typical groping in the dark underneath our clothes, parked at the overlook on the Ridge or one of the other places frequented by teenagers. That was as far as it had ever gotten for me before I’d shut it all down and vowed never to date again.

  He ran a thumb over the already erect nipple and his breathing quickened. I reached up and grabbed his tie, pulling his mouth to mine. The kiss immediately deepened, his mouth crushing against mine, owning the kiss, like I presumed he owned everything else around him, with confidence, surety.

  But his mouth didn’t stay on mine for long. Soon he was pushing me back on the couch, so that I lay flat on my back. He hovered over me, hurriedly undoing his tie, unbuttoning the first three buttons of his dress shirt.

  With each motion, those black eyes pinned me down—almost dared me to look away. And I couldn’t. I was so turned on I could barely breathe, the tightness between my legs knotted so that it was almost painful.

  When he settled against me again, his erection pressed against my leg. I almost jumped when I realized what it was. I was under him now—half wondering if he would even bother to move us to the bed for the actual consummation of our deal. I supposed there were worse places one could lose one’s virginity than the couch in the penthouse suite of the most luxurious hotel in Amsterdam.

  His mouth was on mine, pushing his tongue into mine with urgency, ferocity. He lifted up his body enough to pull the other strap of my dress down, baring me to the waist. I was too delirious with the sensations he was evoking in me to feel embarrassment.

  Then his mouth was on my neck, my throat, gliding along my collarbone before it settled on my nipple, licking and sucking tenderly.

  White-hot fire blossomed from my breast and I gasped, arching my back. He surged against my leg. If he pushed up my skirt and did it here and now, I would have no complaints. I couldn’t wait much longer.

  And I’d never even bothered to ask Heath how long this would last once it started.

  I wanted it to last forever.

  My fingers clutched at the nape of his neck, wanting to drag his gifted tongue and hot mouth to my other breast. The throbbing tension inside me grew impossibly urgent.

  “Adam,” I whispered. “I want—”

  And that’s when his cell phone rang.

  At first he froze but didn’t move, his mouth still pressed to my nipple, his body tensing beneath my hands.

  It stopped. After not even ten seconds, it started ringing again. He lifted his head and sat back, fishing it out of his jacket pocket.

  When he looked at the caller ID, he exhaled sharply. “Fuck.” And then he put the phone to his ear.

  “What?” he barked, and I felt sorry for whoever it was on the other end of the line.

  I sat up and looped the straps of my dress over my shoulders, my body throbbing from lack of release. Adam looked at me as he listened for a long time on the phone without saying a word. With each passing minute, his face grew grimmer. I reached over and put a reassuring hand on his thigh and he immediately stood up and walked to the window.

  “How bad is it?” he finally said, his posture stiff, his shoulders tense.

  I grew cold without his body heat near me. I grabbed my wrap off the back of the couch and pulled it around my shoulders.

  “Walt, it’s fucking midnight here, the team is still at work. They have mandatory overtime in all their contracts. They’re putting in late hours tonight.”

  He turned back to me and shook his head apologetically. I shrugged, giving him a smile. I could be patient. He could deal with this and then come back to me. Strangely, I wasn’t tired at all despite the lack of sleep in the previous twenty-four hours.

  “No,” he said, and it was a sharp, irritated sound. “I’ll handle it. That won’t—I said I’ll fucking handle it, but no one goes home, is that clear? If they do, then they clean out their desk and take their shit with them.”

  He started to pace in front of the window and I sat back, reminded of a puma. His movements were sleek, graceful. I could watch him walk for hours. It would be better if he were only wearing that white towel around his hips, though.

  “Give me a minute to get wired in. Yes. Call me in ten.”

  He set the phone down and turned to me. “I’m sorry. That was my operations manager. We had the servers down today to install a patch. The team found some corrupt code and servers can’t come back online until it’s fixed—”

  “Oh shit, yeah, you don’t want a horde of angry gamers pounding
at your door. If I wasn’t here, I’d be one of them, demanding you get my game up.”

  In spite of his darkened mood, he smiled. “I’m going to get my notebook so I can see what’s going on. Why don’t you grab something for yourself out of the bar? I’m sorry.”

  I cleared my throat. “Will this take long?”

  He sighed. “Yeah, probably. I think our night is shot.” And despite his obvious irritation and disappointment, he sounded remarkably calm about it.

  Me? I was very annoyed. All my hopes fell. So much for the auction. So much for coming to Amsterdam a girl and leaving a woman. So much for—

  I turned and left the room. He met me downstairs a few minutes later with a stylish leather laptop case from which he extracted one of the sleekest, most expensive-looking machines I’d ever laid eyes on.

  His name was engraved in the stainless steel across the top: Adam Drake, Draco Multimedia Entertainment, with the company’s logo: a field of stars depicting the constellation Draco. Some girls got excited about jewelry, others about designer bags. Me, I got all hot and bothered over hardware. And while that earlier impression of his other hardware had begun to affect me, this bad boy he’d just whipped out of the case made my heart palpitate. That sexy little box was probably ten times faster than mine.

  Adam set the notebook on the table, opened it and looked at me. When he noticed the focus of my attention he smiled wryly. If I could only jimmy his password…I wondered how many game secrets that thing carried on it.

  “Why don’t you go get comfortable? This is going to be intermittent and if you’re not tired, I could use the company.”

  I trundled off to my room where the bellhop had dumped my bag. I shimmied into some clothes I’d brought with me—yoga pants and a tank top. Then I went to the mini bar, and pulled out a chilled glass and a Dr. Pepper for myself. After asking what he drank—he took coffee—I fiddled with the automatic coffeemaker and brought it to him, settling on the couch to watch him work.

  Once in a while he’d glance up at me. “Why don’t you see if something’s on TV?” he asked, his hands moving over the keyboard with lightning speed while he spoke. “I’m going to be running a program here in a minute and can come watch with you while I wait.”

  My mouth quirked. I wondered if they aired reruns of Friends 24/7 in Amsterdam.

  In the lounge, I flipped through the channels until I found a showing of a famous B movie from the fifties, Forbidden Planet. I’d seen it several times before and could have followed it easily had it been dubbed into Dutch. But this late-night version was in the original English with Dutch subtitles.

  After two more phone calls and about ten minutes, Adam joined me on the couch. I grimaced, realizing I looked wretched in my yoga pants and tank top—a far cry from the glamorous black dress and glittery heels from earlier.

  During the commercial break he told me he’d be right back and climbed the stairs. When he returned, he was wearing dark blue pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt. He again settled on the couch next to me. This time, I leaned against him, nestling into the crook of his arm. He rested his arm on my waist, almost hesitantly at first. As if he was reluctant to touch me.

  When I looked up at him, his expression lay somewhere on the spectrum between fear and puzzlement. Had I surprised him with this show of sudden affection? It was nonsexual yet comforting, at least to me. And I had no idea if I could explain why it was so.

  After an hour, he was back at the computer and soon I felt my lids growing heavier as Commander John Adams and Altaira, wrapped in each other’s embrace, witnessed the explosion of Altair IV from space. I was soon drifting off to sleep.

  Sometime afterward, I had the sensation of being carried by strong arms. Was this the moment? Would he lay me across his bed, wake me and have sex with me now?

  But it didn’t happen and my brief flirtation with consciousness soon evaporated as I sank back into blissful slumber. I dreamt of Adam, of dancing on a cloud with the sound of the orchestra emanating from a bank of computers in the background.

  Chapter Six

  We left Amsterdam the next day after a late brunch—we’d both slept in until ten o’clock. We checked out at noon and Adam’s car took us to the airport. In spite of getting nowhere the previous night, we took our flight home as planned, as Adam hinted that he had to return to work as soon as possible.

  I hardly knew what to say to him. We’d talked about everything else under the sun, but never discussed the fact that our deal remained unconsummated. What did this mean? I wouldn’t get the money until we’d done the deed. Did he still want to? Or had the near-disaster with the game cooled his ardor?

  Adam was on the phone for almost the entire trip to the airport and I pulled out my MCAT test guide but couldn’t concentrate. My mind kept drifting to his conversation. He was making plans to visit some investment property the following month in some place called St. Lucia, which I’d never even heard of before.

  I shot him a sideways glance, wondering about him. He’d grown up without a father, raised by an alcoholic mother who, it would be presumed, was such an unfit parent that he’d been placed with his uncle two states away as a teenager.

  How did that formula add up to an extremely successful and uniquely brilliant man in his field? What drive did he have to pull himself from such a low starting point in life? And what tireless energy kept him going, day after day?

  Not long before reaching the airport, I turned to him and he put down his tablet when he noticed me watching him.

  “So, what now?” I asked.

  His jaw visibly tensed and he turned to face me. “What do you mean?”

  His manner was so cold it threw me off and I pursed my lips, irritated. As if he had the right to be brusque with me! It wasn’t my fault that we hadn’t gone through with the deal. I glanced toward the driver and Adam, following my thought, pressed the button to raise the partition before I spoke again.

  I began. “Well, we had our night together. That’s what the contract called for. I suppose we call it fulfilled and go our separate ways?” I knew what he’d say before the words were even out of my mouth.

  He looked askance at me. “And that means, what? We separate in accordance with the points on the contract? No contact? Act as if there’s a restraining order between us?”

  I shrugged. Wasn’t that what we’d both agreed to?

  “And then what? You’re still a virgin. Does that mean another auction?”

  I tilted my head to the side. Hell no, that did not mean another auction. I wasn’t going to put myself through that again. And I was one hundred percent sure that Heath would refuse to participate again. Nevertheless, I frowned as if in deep thought. “That’s a wonderful idea! I could cash in twice.”

  But the look in Adam’s eyes, when they hardened like black ice, sent a cold streak of premonition down my spine. He stuffed the tablet into the back pocket of the seat in front of him.

  “I don’t think so.”

  I crinkled my brow at him. “Wait…what?”

  He turned to me as matter-of-factly as if he were discussing the daily weather forecast. “I purchased a product that has not been delivered to me.”

  I folded my arms. “I am not a product. I am a person. You purchased one night with me and that was it. We had our night together. It was through no fault of mine that I…remain intact.”

  “I disagree. I purchased your virginity. Therefore it belongs to me. It can’t be resold.”

  Now I felt some heat rise to my cheeks. Not from embarrassment, but anger. “This was not a flesh trade transaction, Mr. Drake.”

  A fist closed over his knee. “What is prostitution besides a flesh trade? I own your virginity and I can remove it whenever I wish. Whether it be now or ten years from now, that honor is mine.”

  I blinked and shook my head, unable to credit my own ears. “Are you saying that I’m beholden to you until you decide to swoop in and collect? I think not.”

  “Really. So
you’ll stick with that position. You honestly think our agreement supports your position over mine?”

  My mind raced, trying to remember the precise wording of our agreement. My blood began to pump and I cursed that I had relied too heavily on Heath and his buddy to put the wording together to even remember. “It’s hardly a legally valid document in the first place.”

  “Then why draw it up?”

  I gritted my teeth. My face heated and muscles tensed. “For protection, to make it clear what the agreement entailed.”

  “For whose protection? Yours or mine?”

  “For both of us.”

  He folded his arms over his chest, sitting back. “Well, then, I stand with my position. The auction was for the right to remove your virginity. That didn’t happen. I still have that right.”

  “Not for life. There’s the six months limitation that was outlined in the contract.”

  He nodded. “Right. Then I’ll call you in five and a half months?”

  I blinked. Mom’s mortgage foreclosure came due in two months. “Are you willing to pay me now?”

  “Of course not.”

  I turned to him. “You don’t trust me?”

  “I make it a policy never to buy what I can’t pay for and never to pay for what I can’t own immediately. It makes for good business.”

  I sighed. “Then we should compromise. Because I need that money soon.”

  He tilted his head to the side, studying me again. “I thought this was about feminist ideals and the ‘new paradigm.’”

  “I never said it was only about those ideals.”

  He said nothing, just grazed me with that cold stare.

  I shook my head. “You aren’t allowed to judge me. Not until you’ve sat where I’m sitting.”

  He looked annoyed. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

  I waved pointedly at the interior of the expensive town car driving us to the airport. We were sitting as far apart from each other as you could possibly get in the back of that car, but the energy still crackled between us. For some reason I’d thought that last night had killed that tension between us, but it only seemed to be stronger this morning. I was aware of everything about him, his posture, his movements, the way he tapped his index finger on his knee when his hand rested there. The way his muscular form perfectly filled his clothes. His clean, masculine scent. The way his dark eyes watched me, calculating. Assessing.