Bound to Her: Three Dates With a Billionaire (4 page)

The girls had gone almost silent. I flicked a glance at them to see them trying to take in the exchange, but we were standing too far back for that. “Is that your sister, Troy?” someone called out.

He winked at her. “No. This is my research assistant.” Then he ruined the explanation by kissing me. True, it was a quick kiss of greeting, but it was on my lips, and he kept his face close to mine. “C’mon. Let loose.” He touched my glasses. “And wear these. They’re cute.”

“Can I be your research assistant?” the blonde asked. The girls laughed, some of them high-pitched.

Troy put his arm around my waist and hugged me close, turning to face the girls. “If you have the right qualifications. But you don’t get the post of girlfriend. That’s taken.”

I buried my face against his arm as he laughed. “The media will be all over this, if they hear.”

He turned around briefly so the girls couldn’t see him. “Why didn’t you tell them?”

“What?”

He lowered his voice. “I gave you enough material for you to sell to the media and pay off your debt.”

Shocked, I stared at him. “You thought I’d do that?”

He laughed roughly. “Yeah. That was before I knew you. But you worried the shit out of me at the time.”

I guess if you didn’t know somebody and you let out your secrets, it might make you a bit paranoid. “I signed the paper in any case, you know, the confidentiality thing you asked me to sign on our first date.”

His eyes went wide. “You did?” A cloud passed over his clear blue eyes. Then he smiled. “I never found it, then it stopped being important.”

The thought that he’d trusted me anyway, despite my not signing the confidentiality agreement warmed my heart. I beamed up at him. As he turned back to let the girls get a look at him, I let the emotion wash over me. That agreement meant a lot to him. He hadn’t wanted to give it to me, calling it a passion killer, but his attorneys had insisted, after he’d been forced to leave LA after one too many scandals.

He kissed the top of my head. “The media will know anyway, in a few days.”

I lifted my face to his, ignoring the comments and incredulous stares a few feet away. “Why?”

“Because I’ll have more time to spend with you.” He turned around and took my hands, ignoring everyone else. “Baby, I’ve been working fu—damned hard, otherwise I’d have been with you every day.” So he did remember that we had an audience.

A surge of relief filled me. I’d thought—well, all kinds of things but mostly that he’d lost interest. Troy Cooper wasn’t exactly known for his long lasting relationships. Maybe I should be glad for what I’d had and move on. Though nobody I’d ever known could compare to Troy. It’d be a long time before I got over him.

“You thought I was that fickle?” he asked incredulously.

I didn’t want to remind him that we barely knew each other. But when we were together, everything was right. We talked and laughed and—fucked until we couldn’t stay awake anymore. But we didn’t sleep in each other’s arms, although I slept in his.

Troy had a phobia. He hated to be touched during sex. Even out of bed, fully dressed, if I reached for his hand or touched him, he had an instant of frozen recognition before he responded. Something must have started his phobia, but he’d never confided in me what it was. And why would he, when we barely knew each other? Except I felt like I’d known him for years. Already I was taking his stunning good looks for granted. I had never seen Troy look anything less than gorgeous, even when he had shadows as black as bruises under his eyes. I suspected more than worry about his first stage part for years was keeping him awake nights. When I stayed over at his condo, I always awoke alone.

“I wouldn’t say fickle. We didn’t make each other any promises.”

“Well I’m making one now. So are you coming tonight?”

I grasped at the nearest straw. “I’m working.”

He was on to me. “Swap shifts.” He knew I could do that.

“Have you ever worked a waitstaff job?”

He laughed. With a father as wealthy as his, why would he bother? “Once,” he said, surprising me. “When I was rehearsing for a part. I took a month at a restaurant.” He shuddered theatrically. “That was a month too much.”

I knew what he meant. The money was lousy, and the hours unsocial. But I needed something that would fit in with my work as an intern here at the New York Museum. I worked here four days a week, and if I wanted a career in museums, which I did, desperately, then I had to keep it. But working for free wasn’t on the cards if I couldn’t pay my rent.

Every day my boss Steve told me vacancies were coming up soon, but they didn’t. The incumbents held on to their jobs by their fingernails, since moving up the ladder was so hard. “I’m looking for something else. I could get a job in a theater, maybe.” Taking the money at the door, perhaps. But those jobs were often taken by people who wanted to become stage managers, or even actors. It was the same everywhere right now.

For now, tempted by the prospect of seeing my lover act, and the thrill of knowing he was mine, at least for the time being, I’d swap shifts. “I think I can. There’s another waitress at work who owes me.”

Although the girls might be able to hear, Troy didn’t flinch at dating a girl who worked as a waitress to make ends meet. There wasn’t a snobbish bone in his body, even though his father was a big shot Hollywood producer and his mother a New York socialite, though I didn’t know where she was now. Taking a chance, I said, “Won’t your mother be there tonight?”

His face hardened, and his bright blue eyes iced over. “I doubt it. And even if she is, it’s no concern of mine.”

I had read everything I found about Troy. Perhaps his attitude was something to do with his parents’ acrimonious divorce. His mother had married again, so she’d have a different name, and the media didn’t seem to take a lot of interest in her, because after her second divorce, there was no trace of her. I wouldn’t pursue the subject now. “Okay. Get me a ticket.”

He burst into laughter. “Baby, I get tickets to every performance. They’re part of the deal. You get the one in the front dress circle, because I don’t think I’d do well with you in the stalls, staring up at me.”

He glanced around, and loosened his hold on me. The girls were still gaping, and some were taking photos. “Well, I guess if I see any of those online, I’ll know where they came from.” Still smiling, he said, “I’d rather you didn’t publish the pictures of us. Everybody’s entitled to a private life.”

A blatant lie, when your public profile was as all-encompassing as Troy’s, but he was doing his best. And yes, I did think that.

Grabbing my hand, he tugged me to the rope and helped me over, before I could move it aside. Doing his Prince Charming bit. He tugged me to the door, paused and said, “Watch the door, Edward,” winked and dragged me inside.

As soon as the door was closed he was on me, pushing me against the door, kissing me with a ferocity that said he’d missed me more than words ever could. I’d missed him, too, and I gave as good as I got. But I knew one thing. I clenched my hands by my sides to stop myself touching him. I longed to reach up, to push my fingers into his hair. He’d let me do it once, but flinched away. More than anything I couldn’t bear it if he did that again.

He had no such inhibitions. He cupped my breasts, groaning into my mouth, thrusting his tongue deep. I stroked it with mine, caressing him the only way I could. The sound of his voice vibrated through me, pushing my arousal to levels where there was no going back. Drawing away, he murmured against my lips. “I want you, baby. I’ve missed you.”

“I didn’t think you had time.”

“Every time I stop for food, or snatch some rest your image comes to me. Every fucking time.” Frantically he dragged my T-shirt up, then unclipped my bra at the back so he could touch me. I moaned when he rolled my nipples. If the complete class of schoolgirls poured in here and started taking pictures I couldn’t have stopped.

“Please say you have protection.”

“Always.” Like a boy scout, he was always prepared. He dragged a foil packet and a handful of tissues out of his jeans pocket, then spun me so I faced the exhibit. I had no time for the cavorting of people who were two thousand years dead. They danced before my eyes, a collection of meaningless colors. They grew even more abstract when he reached around and slid my glasses off my nose. “I like you all ways,” he murmured against my neck, “But I want you concentrating on me, not on the ancient Romans.”

“No danger in that,” I said, breathlessly, because he’d started on my jeans, unfastening the button, unzipping and hastily shoving them and my underwear down to my knees. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. “Your scent drives me crazy.” He licked up my backside, his tongue just touching my rear entrance, making me shudder. “Your taste drives me wild.”

When I heard the rasp of his zipper I groaned, and if it hadn’t been for the rail in front of me I would have fallen to the ground. My knees lost the ability to stand without that help.

He left me for a brief moment and then he returned, opening me, testing me with his fingers. He needn’t have bothered. I was ready and then some.

My lover pushed his cock into my body, shoving deep until he filled me up. He caught my clit between his fingers, knowing exactly what to do to drive me screaming mad as fast as possible. As he began to thrust, he pressed the fingers of his spare hand against my jaw, urging me to tilt my head. “I know how you love to scream,” he said before he sealed our mouths.

I heated fast, and he was right, my moans turned to cries, but he swallowed them. He worked me relentlessly, pounding into me. I thrust my ass against him, opening myself up as much as I could, which was difficult, but possible because of my hands on the rails. Could anyone hear the slap of flesh against flesh? The door was thick, the room a proper one, not a partition. I didn’t care about anything but my impending orgasm.

I clutched the rail until my fingers hurt, but I daren’t let go. I’d collapse to the floor in a puddle of wet need. His kiss was ruthless, his body even more so. Faster than I could have imagined, I rose, hit the top and soared over, screaming into him.

Someone knocked on the door.

Troy grunted into my mouth, that involuntary sound deep in his throat that he made when he was about to come. He released into me, his cock throbbing, swelling against my inner walls. The knock was a mild distraction, no more, to the way he surrounded me. He let go of my clit and briefly rested his hands either side of mine, bearing down on me and breathing heavily as he gave in to passion.

The knock was repeated.

I dragged up my underwear and jeans, fastening the button hastily and tugging my T-shirt over the top to hide my state of disarray. My hair had come out of its neat ponytail, but I couldn’t do more than shake it as the door opened.

I glanced to my left. Troy was standing next to me, a pair of headphones from the audio stand clamped over his ears, staring at the display. I had no idea what he’d done with the used condom. He could be still wearing it.

I turned. My boss Steve confronted me. He looked from me to Troy and back, but said nothing. Troy removed his earphones and held his hand out, the hand that had so recently been on my clit. “Hi, nice to meet you again.”

“Ah,” Steve said. “I got word of a disturbance in here. I feared the worst.” He didn’t explain what that could be. I’d have called it the best, myself.

Troy jerked his head to the door. “Have they gone?”

Steve frowned. “Who?”

“The bunch of schoolgirls out there. They mobbed me. That was probably what you heard.”

Steve sighed and dropped his chin before lifting it and nodding resignedly. “That would be it. It was clever to think of coming in here.”

“That was Cassie’s idea,” Troy said, straight-faced. Like fuck it was. But if he wanted me to take the credit, I was fine with that. After all, he’d had the other idea. The dim lighting probably hid my flushed face, and I tried to steady my breath, still ragged from the sex I’d just received.

Steve nodded to me, silently acknowledging that I’d done the right thing.

“They’ve gone now. Their teacher moved them on to the Assyrian gallery.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Will he meet them when he leaves?”

Steve grimaced. “That’s not the only school group we have in here today. Mr. Cooper is bound to bump into one of them before he gets to the exit.”

Troy laughed. “It’s a hard life.”

I laughed too, and even grim-faced Steve forced a smile. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you out through the offices. I don’t think anyone will object. After all, you’re almost a member of staff.”

Troy glanced at me. “Like Cassie.”

“Oh, she is a member of staff. She’s in line for an assistant curator’s job. In the right department, of course.”

Steve made to usher Troy out of the room, doing his smarmy best to cultivate him. I couldn’t blame him. The museum, rich though it was, was always short of funds. Troy’s father made a big difference. If it wasn’t for the donations from him and the other benefactors, I wouldn’t be working on the pavement. It would still be in storage.

At the door, Troy looked back and me and winked. “Check your pockets.”

Fearing the worst, I gingerly slid my hand into my jeans pockets, but I didn’t find the mess of tissues and condom I half expected. Instead, a piece of cardboard. My ticket for the preview. No, two tickets.

*****

“W
hat do you wear for a preview?” I asked Cindy. She paused in the act of applying her mascara. “Anything,” she said and continued to work. “I guess if you’re cool, you wear jeans. I looked the theater up online. Did you know it’s highly prestigious? At least that’s what the website said. They have Troy Cooper and Sonia Riley’s pictures all over the site.”

“Do you think this would work?”

She spared me a glance. “Sure.” I’d settled for black pants and a white shirt, with a pair of Austrian Crystal earrings, just to prove I was female. I let my hair loose as well, and did my best with it, trying to tame the curls that tended to riot around my head when I didn’t tie it back. “He’ll love it.”