Irresistible (Underneath it All Series: Book One) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

Irresistible (Underneath It All Series: Book One)

Ava Claire

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Copyright © 2016 Ava Claire

Cover by RBA Designs

The Underneath it All Series

Irresistible (Underneath It All: Book One)

Irrational (Underneath it All: Book Two)

Irreplaceable (Underneath it All: Book Three)

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E-book License Edition Notes

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Copyright Page

Chapter One: Jackson

Chapter Two: Sadie

Chapter Three: Jackson

Chapter Four: Sadie

About The Author

I
peeled off my jacket and draped it on the gold-encrusted coat stand. I didn’t toss an impatient glance over my shoulder. I didn't steal a peek at the nubile, beautiful thing that waited.

In lingerie
. My pulse galloped.
Or maybe in nothing at all
...

I removed my cuff links and dropped them in my right pocket, platinum clinking together like ice cubes. I slipped my fingers behind the knot at my throat, tugging my tie loose in a single, fluid motion.

This ritual of mine had a rhythm, a dance I knew by heart. The first steps were mine. I entered the room silently, with an authority that made my skin buzz for what was to come. I stripped away my name, Jackson Colt, until all that remained was a man. Somewhere in the darkness a woman waited patiently, eager to cater to my every desire. She’d lure me to the bed with a sultry invitation. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she’d purr, or something along those lines.

I executed my moves flawlessly.

The woman who waited remained silent.

I wasn’t prepared for that.

I've held my own in tighter situations than this,
I reminded myself. While the steady breaths I exhaled and the hum of the AC were the only sound, there were two reasons I didn't break a sweat.

The first was The Tower never disappointed. I'd been a member for almost a year—

a very active member—and my appetite was always fully satisfied until the urge inevitably reared its head again. The urge to seek out something uncomplicated, without strings. The urge to fuck someone with great incentive to give me the night of my life.

That word, 'urge', seemed so foreign, so far from my public persona. I was the man who'd chewed up the business world and spit it out. I made the competition tremble and say my name in hushed, reverent tones. I accomplished this because I was disciplined. Because things like urges and a conscience took a backseat to building an empire.

The second reason I wasn't doing the suggestive cough to get the ball rolling was because I felt her eyes on me.

Watching.

Waiting.

I decided to switch things up, and the first words came from me. "Quite the setup." To further prove how casual and unaffected I was, I pivoted toward the bed. Not to cut to the chase, of course. My time was very precious, but there was one thing I didn't do, and that was quickies. I turned to her so I could do a slow sweep of the room, making her squirm with anticipation. When I hit the mahogany bedpost and glimpsed her face, my facade slipped. I should mention that there was one reason a man like me came to a place like this, and it wasn't to look at faces. Yet when I saw hers, I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Two emerald eyes burned like green flames as she swept her gaze over me unabashedly. The dainty slope of her nose didn't match the indelicate huff that fell from her lips as she crossed her arms. Strawberry and gold waves spilled past her shoulders, like some fierce cape a boxer wore when they sauntered into the ring. And her mouth... Damn. Thick, glossy lips turned a snarl into something like a smile. There was a charm in her rawness. In her attitude. It was clear those lips, and every other part of her, didn't do a thing that she didn't want to do.

Speaking of the other parts-

"Eyes up here, buddy.”

I'd only gotten as far as her collarbone before she’d ended my visual journey. Her voice was soft. As soft as I knew her skin would be when I touched it.

‘When’, not the ‘if’, that blazed in her eyes.

"What did you say?" I cocked my head to the side. I was intrigued, not deaf. I'd heard what she said, but I wondered if she had the guts to say it again. Maybe this was all a show. Part of
her
dance when a client walked through the door.

She loosened her arms from their stringent position across her chest. "You heard me." She jutted out her bottom lip, a sign of silent defiance. If only she knew that the more I saw of her lips, the more I craved them. I fought the urge to reach out, sweep my thumb across that lip, then bring the thumb to my mouth. I wanted to taste her. But now that I was getting to know her through her body language, I knew that would be too easy. I wanted her to beg me for my touch.

A disturbingly delicious thought sliced through my mind.
I want to break her.

Five feet lay between us. Five feet too many, if I was being honest. I took a step forward and she hitched a breath that I watched intently. Her pale shoulders, bare except for two black straps, rose and fell. She licked her lips and raised the gentle curve of her chin. That was her tell, the slightest twitch that told me I wasn't the only one struggling to play my cards close to the chest.

I dropped my gaze from her chin to her collarbone, where I'd been so rudely interrupted. I shut down the whisper that told me my next move could derail whatever delights waited just beyond my reach. I told myself she'd dropped her arms to her side for a reason, and it wasn’t so I could gaze at her beautiful face. The moment we’d exchanged before was clearly long hours at the office that steered me away from the reason we were here. Not for faces. Not for anything that didn't involve me getting to know every inch of her body.

Her breasts, pale and supple, were beautiful against the dark fabric of her bra. She hadn’t rapped my knuckles this time, and that sent unbridled, ravenous need directly to my groin. No matter what words or actions I took next, my cock couldn't help but broadcast exactly what I wanted.

Ignoring the tented front of my slacks, I turned away from her. It was my turn to make
her
wait. I pretended I had all the time in the world. Like I wasn't dying to find out how many licks it took to make her melt in my mouth. I pretended I wasn’t carrying a bulging erection that made it hard to play this game.

I pulled a breath from behind my clenched teeth and focused on the room. I cast my eyes upward, half in prayer, half to keep up appearances. A crystal chandelier glittered overhead, reminding me that diamonds gleamed in her ears. I wanted to strip her down until all that remained was that sparkle.

I glanced to my left, where an ivory-colored couch leaned against the wall. My horny imagination quickly turned the couch into a torture device fit for any dungeon. I wanted her luminescent body draped on it.

On me.

The ache just intensified so I snapped my head to the right, to safer territory. The wet bar was fully stocked, with two stools that I assumed got very little action compared to the bed that rested a few feet away. A bed she hadn't detached herself from since I entered the room.

Every suite I'd visited in The Tower had a similar layout. In a clockwise manner, you'd find the sitting area, the bed, the vanity, the wet bar, and the door that led to the bathroom. I knew the marble counter top would be cool when I skated my fingertips across the surface. I was aware the faucet was one of the touch-less ones for rich bastards who couldn’t be bothered with lifting a lever. I knew the mahogany cabinet affixed to the wall beside the bar housed an assortment of wine glasses and other implements for men who cared about vintage and color and smell. Men who swirled their wine and sniffed their booze, sucking all the fun out of a good, stiff drink.

I grabbed a short, stocky glass and ran it beneath the spout.

“Something to drink?” I filled my glass with water and tossed a smirk in her direction. I had a feeling there were no smirks in her near future, but I saw something else flutter across her porcelain face. Something unexpected.

It looked a lot like surprise. Like she wasn’t used to guys asking her what she’d like.

“Um, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and recrossed her arms, leaning against the bedpost. “No drinking on the job.”

I lifted my glass of water in a silent toast. She raised her eyebrows and muttered something under her breath. Undeterred, I chuckled to myself and took a hearty gulp. A part of me wished I had indulged since I had a feeling she wouldn’t pull a single punch.

I perched the glass on the counter top and crossed my arms. She was giving me the same intense glare from before, a look that told me not to poke the rattlesnake, but I knew she was at least slightly intrigued.

“How long have you worked at The Tower?” I asked casually.

“Long enough that I’ve seen it all.” She hurled her words at me like daggers.

Touché
. “And how many clients ask for a new companion?”

That question made heat bolt to her cheeks. My throat tightened immediately because the kind of blushing I wanted from her was that of arousal, not because I struck a nerve.

I took another swig of water, but the feeling didn’t go away. I was hoping when I wrenched my eyes from the bottom of the glass, I’d see crystal-clear disdain on her face. Some beautiful pout that told me she didn’t want nor need me to feel sorry, or anything at all, for her.

When I looked at her, I saw neither. Red still squeezed her cheeks, and she’d dropped those hypnotizing eyes to the hardwood floor.

I discarded the glass and moved from behind the safety of the bar, invigorated by the desire to take my jab back.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t apologize when you were just getting interesting,” she interrupted.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a hint of playfulness in her tone that massaged away the rest of my nerves. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” I followed up.

That earned me a fleeting smile that she put away as quickly as she offered it. She gripped the bedpost and twirled with the grace of a ballerina and the allure of an exotic dancer, giving me a front row view of her perfect ass in a G-string.

“To answer your question, I’ve been working here for three months.”

“Fresh meat.” I kept the words husky and low enough that I hoped she didn’t hear me.

She paused at the side of the bed, first perching her hands on her hips, then leaning forward and bracing herself on the onyx-hued duvet. Arousal gripped my balls as she peered at me from behind her scarlet locks. Had she read my mind? She was locked and loaded in my favorite position.

“Fresh meat.”

The words came out like a purr, so far from the icy reception she’d given me before. If I wasn’t careful, she’d give me whiplash.

“Is that what I am to you?” Without waiting for my answer, she crawled onto the bed. Her side profile nearly made me refill my glass because the temperature shot up to ‘Holy Shit!’ She was petite, maybe 5’5 at most, with a dainty waist to match her gentle facial structure, but the rest of her was all sex. Hips that I longed to grip, an ass that I couldn’t wait to spank, and ample breasts that nearly spilled out of her bra.

Struggling to maintain my cool, I eased toward the bed. My eyes devoured her milky skin like I was savoring the best bowl of vanilla ice cream. Without even tasting her, I knew I’d be satisfied and then some. Her complete 180 kept me from skipping to the good part.

I was a red-blooded male, and there was nothing I wanted more than the warmth between her thighs, but there was more to this story. It was in her eyes, the way the fire had been all but extinguished. Like everything that made her different from every other woman I’d encountered here had been snuffed out. I wanted the challenge. And as ridiculous as the thought was, considering the circumstances, I wanted her to want me.

“What do you like?” I raced a hand through my dark strands, glad the lighting masked the slight tremble of nervousness that rippled through me.

“Sex,” she answered flatly.

I lifted an eyebrow incredulously. “Right.” I drew closer to her and smiled when I saw the pink return to her cheeks. “It’s just me and you. If we can’t be honest with you, practically naked-” I started unbuttoning my shirt. “And me, practically joining you, then why do it at all?”

She did the sexiest push-up I’d ever seen, then twisted until her bottom was on the bed. She looked me squarely in the face. “You can’t be serious. ‘Why do it at all?’” She slowly raised her left hand and rolled her thumb, index, and middle fingers together, making the universal sign for money.