All That He Demands (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 3) (3 page)

Then I cranked them all up and let the hot steam billow around me in an orgy of hot water.

And the soaps and shampoos! I had died and gone to spa heaven.

I settled on one that smelled like mango, and lathered my hair with it. After that, I applied a coconut conditioner, and washed all over with a soap that smelled like roses.

As I lathered gingerly ‘down there,’ I couldn’t help smiling. There was a throbbing from the, um, various activities of the previous evening… and (I’m blushing right now) his exceptional size… but it was a good ache. An ache that reminded me of him being inside me.

Without a condom.

And coming inside me.

Cue full-on freakout for about ten seconds.

Then I remembered not only was I on birth control, but he had said he hadn’t been with anybody else for the last eight months. And he’d been tested, and was fine.

Do I trust him?
I asked myself.
That he was telling me the truth?

And after a second’s hesitation, I thought,
Yeah, I do.

I thought about that as I scrubbed all over with the world’s softest washcloth.

How the hell does a man as gorgeous, as rich, and as… um… well-equipped as Connor not have sex for eight months?!

I mean,
me
, yeah. Try a year and a half. That was my longest dry spell since I lost my virginity. And all the non-dry spells were with boyfriends.

But I didn’t exactly have hot guys throwing themselves at me every day. I’m sure Connor did.

Hot girls, I mean. Throwing themselves at him.

Although I’m sure there were hot guys throwing themselves, too, but –

Oh, hell, you know what I mean.

I wondered why he hadn’t slept with anybody in eight months.

Who was the last one?

Had she hurt him?

Was that why?

I got out of the shower feeling – and looking – halfway human.

After I toweled off with the world’s plushest towels, I wrapped up in a robe that was even thicker and softer. I wiped away the condensation and checked myself carefully in the mirror and cringed a little. I was scrubbed pink and clean, and no longer looked like a stoned raven had constructed a bird-townhouse in my hair, but…

I think I look okay without makeup, and I definitely try to keep it light. I mean, that’s the point of makeup, so that they don’t immediately
know
you’re wearing makeup, right? Or at least so they don’t think, “Oh yeah… hooker.”

But I would have
killed
to look as good as I could right now.

I thought about getting my purse –

– and went into full-on, nuclear alert, Defcon Five freak-out mode.

Actually, I think Defcon One is the worst (nerd, nerd, nerd) – but Defcon Five
sounds
worse.

And whatever
sounds
the worst, that’s what I was experiencing.

Times ten.

I’d left my purse back at work.

With my wallet and keys and credit card and twelve dollars cash and cell phone inside.

Where – ?

Next to my still-turned-on computer?

With the report I was supposed to have finished and sent to Klaus, my douchebag boss?

NO.

OH MY GOD, IT WAS EVEN WORSE THAN
THAT.

I’d left it next to the cappuccino machine in the boardroom.

Idiot,
idiot,
IDIOT –

I started pacing back and forth in the bathroom, flapping my hands again in my little freakout ritual.

Why didn’t I take it down with me?!

Why didn’t I REMEMBER IT?!

Well, if we’re going to be fair, I
had
just had my brain turned to jelly by the hottest sex in my life.

(Up to that point. It got even hotter a few hours later.)

And then I’d suffered the worst freakout I’d ever had (again, up to that point) because I had realized I’d just had that mind-blowing sex in the boardroom of the company where I worked.

I had been panicked beyond belief, with my brain already no better than jelly –

– and then super-hot Sex God had requested I walk him downstairs.

Not
‘go with me and have more sex.’

Just ‘walk me downstairs.’

I’d been intending 1000% to go back up and finish my report like a good little corporate drone. At some point I would have realized I didn’t have the purse.

But then he’d kissed my brains out in the elevator –

And
then,
just as we got out on the sidewalk and I was getting all weepy that I’d never see him again, he’d seductively asked me to go with him and have the time of my life.

To be honest, it was no wonder I’d forgotten my purse.

After about five minutes, I calmed down.

Sort of.

The purse and everything in it were safe. Nobody was going to take it, I knew that.

Getting it out of the boardroom… I could do that… I just had to get to work before anybody else.

However, the report was a different matter.

I could imagine my cell phone blowing up
right NOW
as Klaus kept calling me, leaving screaming voicemails about where his report was.

But I had chosen to completely shirk that duty when Connor asked me to get in the limo.

I’d known at the time what I was doing, and what I was potentially risking.

I looked at the freaked-out girl in the mirror and asked her,
Was it worth it?

She relaxed, and a huge smile spread across her face.

It was SOOOOO worth it.

Then I thought of the cell phone again, and my heart stopped cold.

My roommate Anh.

She’d said to call her once I got off work, and she’d leave the club and bring some Haagen Dazs and we’d watch a sappy romantic comedy on DVD.

Not only hadn’t I called her, but I had never come home.

In all the time Anh had known me – five years, going back to my sophomore year in college – I had
never
not come home. Not unless I had a boyfriend and she knew I was staying over at his place.

She was probably worried sick!

She probably thought I was dead, or raped, or lying in a ditch somewhere, or in the hospital!

Oh God, I have to call her!

And that was the state of mind I was in when I bolted out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, into the main room of the penthouse – and into a very strange scene, indeed.

My head was already pounding from moving
waaay
too fast for my hangover.

Then I was caught off guard by what I saw.

Connor was dressed in a white linen shirt and blue jeans. He hadn’t showered or shaved yet; his hair was a rumpled mess and he had dark stubble on his cheeks and jaw.

God, he looked hot.

I immediately wanted to rip off his clothes and drag him back to bed.

But
that
wasn’t going to happen, because he was padding back and forth in his bare feet, shouting into his cell phone.

“You can tell Krebbs he doesn’t have a single working brain cell if he thinks those quarterly numbers are good enough to justify what he’s asking. What? NO, I don’t give a damn about last quarter’s numbers, everyone knows they were inflated – ”

Over by the wall, Johnny was dressed immaculately in a suit and tie. He saw me come in, smiled politely, and jerked his chin up a tiny bit as a greeting, like
whassup.

I blushed in embarrassment and grasped the top of my terrycloth robe together to make sure no more skin was showing than absolutely necessary.

Beside Johnny stood a silver rack of clothes, with wheels on the base so it could move. Little black dresses, skirts, matching bra and panty sets, casual tops… and on the bottom floor of the rack sat an assortment of shoes, from flip flops to elegant heels.

The rack part confused me.

What the hell is THAT for?

Connor had his back to me, but he caught sight of Johnny’s chin nod and looked around.

I don’t know what I was expecting – him dropping the phone? A big, goofy, dumbstruck look of love plastered all over his face?

A smile, maybe?

Didn’t get
any
of that.

His face was totally neutral as he said into the cell, “Sam, hold on a sec.”

Then he covered the mouthpiece of the phone and said to me, “I need you to go down to the pool. Johnny’ll take you.”

Then he turned away and commenced shouting into the phone again.

Well, good morning to YOU, too.

I think I must have looked pretty crestfallen, because Johnny strode over quickly and whispered, “Big business blow-up. Sorry, but we need to give him a little space.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to let my disappointment show. “But I need to call somebody – it’s an emergency – ”

“Down at the pool,” he whispered.

“Hold on, I’ll get dressed,” I said – and then realized all my clothes should have been out here in the main room. Where the strip poker game took place.

But they weren’t.

I darted a quick look around, wondering if Connor had put them on a sofa –

“Uh, yeah, I sent those down to get dry-cleaned,” Johnny whispered.

I must have immediately turned a fire engine shade of red.

I remembered my panties… how turned on I’d been…
multiple
times…

And here a complete stranger had picked them up off the floor.

Not even the floor of the bedroom. Oh, no. He’d probably found them over by the big-ass glass window of the main room, where I’d let Connor do all sorts of things to me in full view of the Sunset Strip.

God, I wanted to crawl under the couch and die.

He smiled. “Relax, I’ve got a girlfriend, okay? I know what a bra looks like.”

Did she leave her clothes lying all over the place on the first night she met you?
I almost asked, but realized I would only be bagging on myself, so I didn’t.

Instead I said, “But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Oh yeah you do,” he answered, and led me over to the clothing rack.

The closer I got, the nicer everything looked. The bras were amazing, the dresses looked like silk, the tops were gorgeous – and then I got close enough to see the tags on the clothes:

Gucci. Prada. Dolce & Gabbana. Versace.

Oh, and let’s not forget the shoes: Balenciaga. Manolo Blahnik. Jimmy Choo.

I drew back in horror.

Not in a
Yuck, gross!
kind of way, but in an overwhelming bout of sticker-shock.

Johnny misinterpreted my look. “You don’t like them?” he asked, surprised and a little disappointed.

“No, I LOVE them, but – I can’t – I can’t afford any of that!” I choked out.

He actually covered his mouth to stifle his laugh.

“What’s so funny?” I hissed.
He
might be able to afford fancy clothes, but
I
sure as hell couldn’t.

“You don’t have to ‘afford’ any of it,” he said. “Take what you want, it’s yours.”

I stood there, frozen, staring at him. Then I looked at the clothes.

The total dollar value of everything hanging on that rack was probably double my annual salary.

And don’t even get me
started
on the shoes.

“I can’t,” I whispered, and shook my head stiffly.

“Yeah you can,” Johnny said, giving me a quizzical grin. He was obviously quite amused.

“No I
can’t
.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not… it’s not right… I shouldn’t…”

Suddenly, behind me, Connor’s voice boomed out.

“HEY GUYS – what’s the holdup?”

Johnny winced a little.

I looked around and realized Connor was talking to us.

To
me.

He was scowling, his hand held over his phone again.

I could feel tears stinging my eyes, and I gave him an angry look.

If it had been a knife, it would have come four inches out of his back.

Jackass.

Then I whipped around and walked stiffly back towards the bedroom.

I felt like a fool, I felt poor and out of place, my head was pounding from my hangover– and worst of all, the guy I’d fallen all over last night was showing me just how important I really was to him.

“Sam, hold on,” I heard behind me, and then bare feet were running over the carpet.

His hand took hold of my arm.

I jerked it away and forged ahead.

He grabbed tighter and half spun me around, half stepped in front of me.

“Leave me alone – ” I tried to choke out, but I was already on the verge of crying.

Then he leaned down and kissed me.

I gave in out of shock – thrilled to feel his lips on mine again, the scratch of his stubble on my chin –

And then I remembered how he’d just treated me the last three minutes.

I pushed away from him.

“Hey, hey, HEY, come on,” he said in a low voice, holding tight onto my arms. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

I stopped fighting and looked up at him.

He broke out into a grin. “Good morning.”

I sniffled a little and wiped one eye. “Good morning,” I mumbled.

He kissed me again softly, and this time I let him.

My heart fluttered, and I felt other parts flutter, too.

But he broke it off quickly.

“Look, something’s fallen apart, and I have to handle it,” he said. “Just go down to the pool for awhile, and I’ll be down to get you soon, okay?”

I wiped my other eye, hesitated, and nodded as I sniffled. “Okay… but I don’t have anything to wear.”

Connor frowned. “I got them to send up a whole rack of clothes for you! You don’t like anything?”

Johnny’s voice floated up from the background. “She says they’re too expensive.”

Connor turned slightly, and both he and I peered back at Johnny.

The bodyguard suddenly looked abashed, and started inspecting the nearest wall like
La dee da, don’t mind me, I’m not here…

Connor turned back to me. “What do you mean, they’re too expensive?”