The Billionaire's Bargain (Blackout Billionaires Book 1)

by Naima Simone

  The only time in his life that he’d ever begged anyone for anything was when he’d pleaded with God to return his parents to him. But here, he came damn close.

  She stared at him, and he battled the urge to turn away and evade that fey gaze that cut too deep and saw too much.

  “Okay,” she murmured.

  He paused, her capitulation rendering him momentarily speechless. “Okay,” he repeated. “And I’m not asking you to quit the supermarket or not replace it with something else. You can return to college, or I can arrange an entry-level position in a company or field of your choice that will allow you to get your foot in the door of your career. Or both college and the job. I don’t want to steal your independence, Isobel. I don’t want to be your jailor.”

  “Well, I really didn’t want to ask my current manager for a reference anyway.” A small smile flirted with her mouth. “Thank you, Darius.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his fingers suddenly tingling with the need to brush a caress over those sensual lips and feel that smile instead of just seeing it.

  Silently, they stood there, snared in each other’s gazes. She was the first to break the connection, and he bit back a demand for her to return to him, to give him her thoughts.

  “I was going to bundle Aiden up and take him to see my mom. She’s been calling nonstop since yesterday. I think she just needs to lay eyes on him.” She halted, her eyes again meeting his. “Did you... I don’t know if you’d like to...” Her voice tapered off, red staining the slashes of her cheekbones.

  She was inviting him to come with her to visit her mother. Considering they didn’t have a traditional relationship, introducing him to her family hadn’t occurred. But she was offering that to him. It...humbled him.

  “Why don’t you invite her here instead since his fever isn’t completely gone? I can send a car for her. Or go get her myself. Whichever she prefers. If you’d like, she can spend the day here with you and Aiden.”

  She blinked. “A-are you sure?” she stammered. “This is your home. You don’t have to...”

  “No, Isobel,” he contradicted, injecting a thread of steel in the words. “This is our home. And it is always open to your mother, to your family.”

  She didn’t agree with him—but she didn’t refute him either.

  And for today at least, it was a start.

  Eleven

  Isobel removed her earrings and dropped them into the old wooden jewelry box that had been a gift from her mom for her thirteenth birthday. Closing the lid, she picked up her brush and dragged it through her hair, meeting her own gaze in the mirror of the vanity. A smile curved her lips, and she didn’t try to suppress it. Even if she looked like a dope wearing a silly grin for no reason.

  Well, that wasn’t true. She had a reason.

  A wonderful day with her mom, Aiden...and Darius.

  She carefully set the brush down as if it were crafted out of fragile glass instead of durable plastic. When truthfully, she was the one who felt delicate...breakable.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she splayed her fingers low on her belly in a vain attempt to stifle the chaotic flutter there.

  Once the car bringing her mother had arrived, she’d expected Darius to retreat to his study or even head to his office. He’d done neither. Instead Darius had stayed with them, warmly welcoming her mother and melting her reserve toward him with his graciousness and obvious adoration of Aiden. They’d watched movies, played with Aiden, cooked, ate and laughed. She’d glimpsed another side of Darius that day. Charming. Relaxed.

  Like his gift of the contract addendum and the bank account with more money than she’d ever see in five lifetimes. She shook her head. She still couldn’t believe that. Not only had he handed it over to like it’d been change in a car ashtray, but he’d given it to her, the woman he considered a money-grubbing user. When she thought on it, the shock returned, and she had to stop herself from pinching her skin like some kid.

  She could take care of Aiden.

  She didn’t have to work at the supermarket.

  She could return to college.

  She had no-strings-attached options.

  A whirl of electric excitement crackled inside her. In the space of minutes, her world had expanded from the size of a cramped box to a space without walls, without ceilings.

  He’d done that for her. For her son.

  Isobel spun on her heel, charged out of the bedroom and marched down the hall before she could change her mind. Seconds later, she knocked on the door of Darius’s room. Already cracked, it swung further open under her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized, wincing as she shifted into the opening. “I didn’t...know...it...”

  The words dried up on her tongue, along with all the moisture in her mouth.

  Good. Lord.

  Darius stood in the middle of the room, naked to the waist. Miles and miles of golden, taut skin stretched over muscle like barely leashed power. Wide, brawny shoulders, strong arms roped with tendon and veins that seemed to pulse with vitality and strength. A solid chest smattered with dark brown hair that her fingers knew was springy to the touch. It thinned into a silky, sexy line that bisected his rock-hard stomach. Her gaze trailed that line, following it with complete fascination as it disappeared beneath the loosened belt and unbuttoned jeans.

  Face heating, she jerked her head up, her stare crashing into his whiskey-colored one. Whiskey. Yes. She’d always compared it to an eagle’s gaze, but whiskey was more accurate. Especially considering the punch it delivered and the heat it left behind.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized again, inwardly cringing at her hoarse tone. Like sandpaper smoothed with jagged rock. “I didn’t mean to interrupt...” She waved a hand up and down, encompassing his towering frame. “I’ll just go,” she said, already whirling around.

  “Isobel.” Her name halted her escape. No, it was the swell of arousal low in her belly that froze her. “Come here.”

  No “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Not “it’s fine. Let me get changed and we’ll talk later.” Not even “come back.” But, come here.

  It was a warning. An invitation.

  A threat. A seduction.

  “Come here,” he repeated, and she surrendered, her feet shifting forward, carrying the rest of her with them until she stood in front of him.

  His heat, his cedar-and-musk scent, his almost tangible sensuality called out to her, enticed her to eliminate those scant few inches and bury her face against his chest. Inhale him and feel him. Somehow she resisted. But just. And even now that resistance was pockmarked, and so thin one touch would shred it.

  “What do you want?” he asked, the sharp blades of his cheekbones and the hewn line of his jaw only emphasizing the blaze in his eyes. “Why did you come in here?”

  “To thank you for today,” she murmured. “For...everything.”

  “You’re welcome,” he rumbled, and as if in slow motion, he lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his fingers down her cheek. “Now tell me why you really came to find me.”

  She parted her lips to deliver a stinging reply, but it didn’t come. Before she could contain it, the truth that she hadn’t even acknowledged burst free.

  “For you. I want you.”

  Another blast of flames in his eyes, and then her world tipped upside down. In one breath, she stood trembling before him, and in the next her back met his mattress, and Darius loomed over her. Her world narrowed to his big body and starkly beautiful face.

  He tunneled his fingers through her hair, the blunt tips pressing against her skull. His gaze burned into hers, capturing her. Not that she wanted to be anywhere but here—his breath tangling with hers, his chest and legs covering hers, his cock branding her stomach through their clothes.

  “Take it back,” he ordered. When she stared up at him, confused, he lowered mo
re of his weight onto her. She felt claimed. His flesh ground into her, teasing her with the promise of the pleasure only he was capable of delivering. “Take back your condition. Tell me you don’t want me to fuck anyone else,” he growled. “Tell me the thought of me touching another woman would drive you insane. Tell me I’m allowed to have you and only you.”

  She dug her nails into his shoulders, the words he demanded to hear crowding the back of her throat.

  “Isobel,” he growled.

  The sexy, primal rumble unlocked her voice. “You can’t touch another woman except me. You’re not allowed, because it would drive me crazy,” she finished on a gasp, with the word crazy barely out of her mouth before he swallowed it, his tongue thrusting forward past her parted lips and taking her in a kiss so blatantly carnal, so wild and possessive, it propelled the breath from her lungs.

  But that was okay, because he gave her his.

  He devoured her. It was wild, a clash, an erotic battle where both seized and neither lost. An ache opened wide in her, like a deep chasm that could never be filled. And yet she would never stop trying.

  Did it register somewhere underneath the turbulent, consuming need that he hadn’t asked her to make the same request? Yes. Did it also occur to her that he didn’t ask because he didn’t believe she would honor his demand of faithfulness? Yes. Did it hurt like a nagging, old wound? God, yes.

  But right now, with his mouth working hers like he owned it, she didn’t dwell on the pain. She submerged it beneath the waves of passion crashing over her. Later, when his hands didn’t tilt her head back to receive more of him, that’s when she’d think on it. But not now.

  Darius abruptly straightened, tugging her up with him. With hurried hands, he balled the hem of her sleep shirt and yanked it over her head, leaving her clad only in a plain pair of black boy-short panties. Definitely not the expensive, seductive lingerie he was probably used to, but as he stared down at her, unchecked desire lighting his amber gaze, it didn’t matter. Not when, without uttering a word, he told her he wanted her with a hunger that rivaled the need grinding her to dust.

  Slipping a hand behind his neck, she drew his head down to her as she arched up to meet him. This time their kiss was slower, wetter. Somehow hotter.

  He eased her back to the bed, his chest pressed to hers, and she undulated under him, rubbing her breasts over him, dragging her nipples across the solid wall of muscle. Correctly interpreting her message, he tore his mouth away from hers and blazed a path down her neck to the flesh that tightened in anticipation of his wicked attention.

  As he cupped one breast, he nuzzled the other. She cradled his head, silently demanding he stop toying with her. And with a rumble that vibrated against her abdomen, he obeyed, parting his lips over her and drawing her in. She cried out, bowing so hard, her back lifted off the mattress. The strong pull of his mouth set off sparks behind her closed eyelids and matching spasms deep inside her. God, the ache. She wrapped her legs around his hips and ground against his cock, shuddering at the swell of pain-tinged pleasure. Whimpering, she repeated the action. Coupled with the mind-twisting things his mouth was doing to her breasts, she teetered close to the edge of release. So close...

  “Not yet, sweetheart,” he rasped against her skin.

  Treating her nipple to one last kiss, he trailed his lips down her stomach, pausing to lap at her navel before continuing to the drenched center of her body. With an abrupt tug, he had her panties down her legs and tossed behind him.

  Mortification didn’t have time to sink its sharp nails in her as he lodged himself between her thighs, which were perched on his shoulders. She didn’t have the opportunity to inform him that she’d never cared for oral sex, had never understood the allure of it. Didn’t have a chance to tell him she’d just rather have him inside her because she didn’t want to disappoint him.

  No, she didn’t say any of that because the second his mouth opened over her sex, shock and searing pleasure robbed her of the ability to think, to form coherent sentences.

  “Oh, God,” was all she could squeeze out of her constricted throat. He stroked a path through her folds, lapping at her, his growl humming against her. Grasping his head, she fisted his hair, to hold on and to keep him right there. He circled her clit, blowing on the pulsing knot of nerves, then he tortured her with short stabs and long sweeps. She writhed against his worshipping lips. Bucked into each stroke. Begged him to suck harder, faster, slower and gentler. She went wild.

  And when release rushed forward in a flood so strong, so sharp, so potent, she didn’t fight it. She surrendered to the undertow with a loud, piercing cry, chanting his name like an invocation.

  Dimly, she registered the mattress dipping. Heard the soft shush of clothing over skin. Caught the crinkle of foil. Didn’t have enough energy to turn her head and investigate. But when Darius reappeared over her, his big, beautiful body crouched over her like the gorgeous animal he was, desire rekindled in her veins, burning away the post-orgasm lassitude. It was unbelievable. She’d just come hard enough to see stars, and now, when it should’ve been impossible, her sex trembled and clenched, an emptiness deep inside her begging to be filled.

  She lifted her arms to him, and without hesitation, he came down over her, one hand curving behind her head and the other cupping the back of her thigh, holding her open. With her eyes locked on to his, she waited, her breath trapped in her throat. Even when he pushed forward, penetrating her, stretching her, she didn’t look away. The inexplicable but no less desperate need to see his face, his eyes, gripped her. She longed to see if they reflected the same awe, rapture and relief that surged within her. To determine if she was alone on this tumultuous ride.

  His full, sensual lips firmed into a line. His nostrils flared, the skin across his cheekbones tightened and in the golden brown depths of his eyes...there, she saw it. The flare of surprise, then the blazing hungry heat and something shadowed, something...more.

  No, she wasn’t alone. Not in the least.

  Wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, she burrowed her face in the strong column, throwing herself into the ecstasy, the burn, the passion—into him. Opening her mouth over his skin, she tasted his tangy, musky flavor, mewling as he burrowed so deep inside her, she wondered how far he would go, how much he would take.

  Not enough. The answer quivered in her mind. It won’t ever be enough.

  A trill of alarm sliced through her, but it was almost immediately drowned out by the carnal havoc he created within her body. After sliding his hands down her back, he palmed her behind and held her for his long strokes. He forged a path that only he could travel, dragging his thick length in and out of her and igniting tremors with each thrust. She savored each one, rolling up to meet each plunge.

  “With me, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear. Tunneling his fingers into her hair, he gripped the strands and tugged her head back. His eyes so dark with lust that only flickers of gold remained, he grated through clenched teeth, “I’m not going alone. Get there and come with me.”

  The words, so arrogant and commanding, but strained with lust and drenched in need, were like a caress over her flesh. Clawing at his back, she slammed her hips against his, and his cock rubbed against a place high inside her, forming a catalyst, a detonator to her pleasure.

  She shattered.

  Screaming, she threw her head back against the pillows, propelling herself into the orgasm that claimed her like a ravenous beast, devouring her, leaving nothing. Above her, Darius rode her through it, until he stiffened and quaked. The throbbing of his flesh triggered another orgasm, rolling into the previous one like an unending explosion of ecstasy.

  Darkness swept over her, pulling her under, but not before a seed of worry sprouted deep in her head. In the heat of passion, they’d become something new tonight.

  But what? Who?

  And would they survive it?

&nbs
p; Twelve

  Darius stared at his computer monitor, but he didn’t see the report on the possible acquisition. Too many other thoughts crowded his mind. No, he had to be honest with himself.

  Isobel.

  Isobel crowded his mind, not leaving room for anything else.

  Who was this woman? The selfish, devious conniver he’d believed her to be these past years? Or the woman he’d come to know since the night of the blackout? Just a week ago, he would’ve said both. That maybe single motherhood and being on her own had matured her from the person she’d been. But now...

  Now doubts niggled at the back of his mind; perhaps he’d been wrong all along.

  The things Isobel had hinted at—the controlling nature of her marriage, the lack of independence, the chameleon nature of the man Darius had called friend and she’d called husband—as well as the things she’d left unsaid. Working at a neighborhood grocery store even though she resided in one of the wealthiest zip codes in the state.

  But if he believed Isobel—and God help him, he was starting to—then that meant Gage had concealed a side of himself from his family. What else had he hidden? Was it possible that Darius’s best friend could’ve lied to them, to him? And if so, how could he have been so blind? He couldn’t have been...right?

  The urge to unearth the truth swelled within him, and he reached for the phone. He could have the company PI investigate for him. Contact Gage and Isobel’s old neighbors or employees that had worked with Isobel at the time. It’d been years, but maybe they could give him some insight...

  Just as his fingers curled around the receiver, the desk speaker crackled, and his executive assistant’s voice addressed him.

  “Mr. King, Mrs. Wells is here to see you.”

  Darius pressed the intercom button. “Thank you, Charlene,” he replied. “Please let the marketing team know we’re going to move our one o’clock meeting to one thirty.”