Bound to Her: Three Dates With a Billionaire (3 page)

“I hate her already.”

A mischievous smile wreathed her lips. “Cindy’s amazing. She lent me that dress.” She waved vaguely toward the bandage. “And the blue one.”

“Ah.” I remembered that one. “Then I’ll forgive her a little. Not much, though. What the fuck did she think she was doing?”

“I was
desperate
,” she repeated, as if I didn’t understand. Perhaps I didn’t. I’d had money all my life, never knew what it was like to go without. It sounded shameful, listening to her now. “I don’t have money, and neither does my family. I’d die rather than ask them for help. I’d run up those debts.”

“By studying,” I reminded her. “It’s not as if you threw it away on whiskey and beer.”

She grinned. “But it’s my loan, not theirs, and I’ll get the benefit of it, in time. I won’t go to them. I was doing okay.”

I remembered something. “You’re an intern at the museum, aren’t you? You’re not paid for that.”

“No, but it’s what I want to do. You have to work your way toward a paid job. There aren’t many jobs around, but I’ll get to hear first when one comes up. I’ll have a reference, too.”

“So what will you do if you get work somewhere else?”

“I’ll move on,” she said, raising her brows and giving me a ‘What are you, stupid?’ look.

Yes, I was. I understood that all right, going where the work was, but there was a world of difference. If I went to work somewhere I hadn’t been before, I contacted my PA, who found me somewhere comfortable to live, no expense spared, and sent me credit cards. I walked into a store and picked up a phone on my contract, no expense spared. I knew I had it easy, but it was one thing to know it, and another to experience it, to have no choice.

This woman was teaching me so much, bringing me to a realization of life as she saw it.

I grinned, conceding the point and glanced down. Her breasts swelled under the thin cotton, tempting me. I stroked a finger along her cleavage, then either side. “I want you again.” My cock rose at the words. It hadn’t gone completely down and now it hardened. But with the arousal, the temptation to swing on top of her and watch her while we fucked, fear clutched my spine, sending a cold chill through me. I couldn’t.

She licked her lips. “Yes. I want you too.”

“Turn around.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“No.” She sounded sad, but there was little I could do about that.

Still, she turned around. I rolled over and snagged a condom from the drawer and then turned back to her, slipping my arms around her waist. She shivered, but with arousal, not fear. That was what I wanted. Slipping my hands up her body, I pushed the T-shirt out the way and cupped her breasts. “I love these,” I murmured to her. “They’re so soft. Your skin is magic.”

She tipped her head back, her hair stroking my face. Now it was my turn to shudder, but I didn’t move back. I’d pushed women away under different circumstances. Now I made haste to shed my clothes, and sheathe myself, ready to take her. I didn’t want fierce this time, I wanted tender and soft. Where sex was concerned, that was a new emotion to me. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I decided to go with the flow.

“Lift your leg.” I’d done this before, but never with such gentleness. When she did as I told her, I supported it with one hand and guided my cock to her, testing her with a finger before I pushed in.

God help me but it felt like I was coming home. I took her slowly this time, taking time to savor every sigh, every cry. I learned her, touching her breasts, then her stomach, feeling her diaphragm tighten when I caught the place inside that would bring her the most pleasure. I smoothed down to her clit, stroking her like a cat, making her purr with pleasure and heard the little hitch in her breath when I reached her clit and tweaked. I tried different movements, tweaking, pressing, tugging, until I had the best results and she was arching against me, bearing back with every thrust.

“Your ass was made to fit here,” I said. Where had that come from? I was a fuck and go kind of man, give pleasure, take it and find the next in line. There was always a line. But they all faded away when I was with this woman. She melted me, no other word for it.

When she cried my name my only ambition was to hear her do it again. I fucked her good and deep, then kept my strokes shallow, making her guess what I’d do next, never letting her settle into one rhythm. She rewarded me by going wild, slamming her rear against me in an effort to push me harder and deeper. “Tell me when I hit it right,” I said.

She did, but not with words, rather with a shriek of pure delight. I went further, harder, then, with my free hand, I stroked her back, right down to her ass.

There it was, my name again. “Troy!”

“More,” I told her.

“Yes, more!”

Her demands drove me on to thrust harder, force another cry from her, while I pinched her clit, the little piece of skin hard and slippery between my fingers.

She came apart, crying my name over and over and I held her through it, before my own release pulsed through me.

I rested my forehead against her nape, letting the sensation flood over me and through me, bringing me to a climax I hadn’t known before.

Together we found a new place.

I waited until she fell asleep, sweetly sliding from orgasm to slumber before I withdrew and left the bed to flush the condom away and wash my hands.

When I came back she was lying on her back, the T-shirt already tugged down over her thighs, the sheet crumpled and pushed aside.

I sat and watched her breathe, her breasts moving, before I got the courage to put my pajama bottoms and T-shirt back on and climb into bed, persuading her back on to her side so I could put my arms around her without fear of her touching me.

It wasn’t for me I did that, but for her.

This couldn’t last. I knew that even as I tried to get used to the crazy sensation of having a woman sleeping in my bed again after so many years.

No, it couldn’t last.

Could it?

C
assie

Over the course of seven days Troy and I saw each other perhaps twice. But we texted every day. He was witty, funny and utterly gorgeous, and I loved his messages. I’d accepted his apology. What else could I do? I was putty in his hands. I’d never known anybody like him. Even with his phobia about being touched during sex, I could cope. And that made much more sense to me. At first I’d thought he had a kink and wanted to play. I’d have carried on thinking that way, but he chose to trust me with his weakness, and that meant so much more to me.

I went into work as usual, collected my tray of tesserae and carried on painstakingly constructing my part of the Roman pavement, in the roped-off part of the gallery. I loved this work.

I was only doing part of the pavement. Normally they wouldn’t allow interns to do it, but I was qualified and experienced, having worked on archaeological digs in the past. And, of course, I was cheap. This was one of the largest pavements the museum possessed, and they’d made the most of it, inviting the public to see the museum staff at work. At the moment a group of schoolgirls were standing behind the rope,

My phone chimed. I leaned back on my heels and pulled it out of my pocket.
Give up waitressing,
it said.

I texted back.
No.

Come to my place tonight.

I can’t, I’m working.

Troy was in New York while he was appearing in a play, Shakespeare’s
Antony and Cleopatra.
Unusually for Broadway, they were having a bare two weeks of previews before opening. That was because the costar, Sonia Riley, was booked for years ahead, so the management wanted to make the most of her. I couldn’t wait to see him onstage. Or anywhere, come to that. I hadn’t seen him for days.

Our hot and heavy affair was turning into an on-off thing, with Troy calling me when he could spare an hour or two. I wanted him as much as ever, but he seemed distracted when we met. Understandable, but I’d have liked a bit more of an idea of what he wanted.

I guess that was my insecurity talking. I should just be thankful I was sleeping with one of the hottest actors around, and enjoy it while I had it. Troy was only in New York for six months, and he didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who could do a long-distance romance.

I was getting antsy, I couldn’t deny that. And we hadn’t talked about the thousand dollars he’d left me as a “tip” on our first night together. I’d taken it, and thanks to that money my immediate loan worries were allayed. I still felt guilty about it, though. I shouldn’t have taken it, but I was desperate.

My phone pinged again.
I’m busy tomorrow night.

I know that.
I’d have gone to see him, but Broadway previews were out of my budget. Practically everything except eating and paying my rent was out of my budget. When I went to Troy’s, he fed me. We usually ordered in.

“Where would this pavement have been situated?” someone called out from the rope.

I turned, my professional smile pasted in place. “We’re not completely sure, but we think it was probably the dining room. See that fruit?” I waved toward another part of the pavement. The girls behind the barrier, resplendent in their plaid skirts, turned and looked. The ones who weren’t on their phones, or gossiping and taking no notice of their teacher, that was. “That is probably an indication of where the pavement was set.”

“Why can’t we go in there?” One of the girls indicated the closed door and the attendant guarding it. They’d opened the room to selected viewers now, and it was proving very popular. Not surprising, considering the contents.

“Did you read the sign?”

“It says adults only.” The girl rolled her eyes. “Pu-lease. This is a museum. How bad can it be?”

I dusted my hands on my knees. “You’d be surprised.” A few girls sniggered. “Actually you might not be, but the museum has a duty to protect the young against corruption.” I got some outright laughs for that, which was why I’d said it. I grinned back. “You’ve probably seen it all before, but the museum can get into serious trouble if they let you in.”

“Oh, so it’s worth seeing?” someone asked.

The female teacher, a pretty woman who looked around ten years older than her pupils, tilted her head and watched me through cynical eyes. She was waiting to see how I’d handle it, but I didn’t doubt she’d break into the conversation if it went on too long.

Another girl, sporting nails so long they could credibly be called talons, chipped in. “It’s outdated. When you can access all those sex tapes online, what makes them think we’ll faint if we see naked people?”

“It’s more than naked people,” I said, then bit my lip. I probably shouldn’t have told them that. “Okay, so it’s legal. We’re not allowed to show you. There are similar mosaics in Pompeii.” They could look those up online.

A ripple of understanding went through them. A few girls nodded. There were twenty of them in the gallery, most watching me reconstruct the pavement, and a few wandering around. I never went to the kind of school that insisted on plaid skirts and royal blue blazers. I was surprised that the talons were allowed. Maybe the owner’s parents were big benefactors.

The girls were sixteen or seventeen, at Junior High. We asked for prior information of school visits, so we would be ready to talk to them and we’d had this school on our list for a year. Adults would be constantly telling them they had their whole lives ahead of them, and to work hard. I remembered so well, but in her case, if she wanted to get out of her small town, I had no choice.

A tingle went through me as someone came through the doors of the gallery. I didn’t have to get a full view to know who it was.

Nobody looked around at first, until one of the girls looking at the other exhibits squealed and clapped her hand to her mouth.

I waited. Would Troy back out? I wouldn’t blame him if he did. Since he seemed intent on keeping our affair on the down low, he’d probably wait until they’d gone. Since his father was a major donor to the museum, he had a reason to be here in any case. He could use that as an excuse.

Troy kept coming. The brave man worked his way around the crowd to the front of the rope. By then he was surrounded by the girls. They clung to him like bees around a honeypot. He glanced at me and grinned. “If I’d known you were busy, I’d have come later,” he said.

Someone thrust a phone in front of him and snapped a quick selfie. He grabbed the phone. “Oh, I think we can do better than that,” he said.

I watched a Hollywood star working. Troy didn’t shy from attention, and he didn’t go around surrounded by bodyguards. He’d told me he’d dismissed a few, lost some and simply told others to fuck off until his father had stopped sending them. People sometimes didn’t believe someone with his fame, not to mention his reputation, would wander around the city on his own, and he got away with a lot by claiming he was a lookalike.

As superhero Foxman, he’d had curly, unkempt hair, but now, for his new part, his hairstyle was more severe, short at the sides and a little longer on top, like the ones on Roman busts. That helped with the disguise, too, such as it was.

Now he accepted phones and let girls snuggle up to him for selfies, but after the fifth, he glanced around. “I’m gonna have to cut this short. How about two group selfies to finish with? They crammed around him and I had to rush to the post holding up the rope as they threatened to topple it. The teacher glanced at me, then at him, her eyes glowing.

Two more selfies, and the teacher pushed forward, on the pretext of calling order. Grinning, Troy accepted her iPhone and snapped one of them together. Then he stepped over the barrier.

They watched him, eyes wide, as he pulled me to my feet. “You are the most annoying person,” he said. “If you don’t come tonight, I’ll tell your boss you’re taking the night off whether he likes it or not.”

My eyes rounded. “You want me there?”

He looked up at the ceiling, as if to find help there. “Duh. What did you think I meant?”

“Well, you know, supper.”

He bent and murmured for my ears only. “That comes later, baby.”