Heat Exchange (The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1) (3 page)

"Oh!" Janey said. "Yes, I can hear them."

Nyall said, "Great. How soon is soon?"

"Forty-five, maybe an hour."

That's soon? Janey thought.

"Thanks." Nyall leaned back against the wall, shifted his legs, and looked at Janey calmly.

She knew her face was still red because she could feel the heat in her cheeks. She looked up at the button panel until the static of the intercom ceased, then back at Nyall.

"Uh, did I just hear you say…"

"A guy like me," he said, and smiled. The smile was breathtaking. It didn't exactly soften his angular features, but it made his brown eyes not exactly warm up, but go smoky. "Who does sex just fine. Isn't attached. And isn't a half bad teacher."

"Are you…applying for the job?" Janey's voice ended in a squeak.

"Sure, why not?"

"But why? Why would you do that?" She was suddenly suspicious. "Are you sure you're not married?"

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not married or committed in any way. Five years divorced, if you must know, and paying alimony. No kids. As to why I'd do that…maybe I'm just noble that way."

She shivered, this time with a distinct chill. "You don't seem the noble type."

"Got me pegged again," he said. "What can I say? Tell you what, hand me your jacket, Jane."

"Janey. My name is Janey." Disconcerted, she reached into the tote bag where she'd stashed it and tossed it over to him.

"Right. Janey. Why don't you scooch over here?"

"Uh…"

"Come on. We'll do an experiment. See if you're interested. If you are, I think we can come to an arrangement that will satisfy both of us."

"What do you mean, an arrangement?"

"I've got a week's vacation coming up. I have travel plans, but plans can always be canceled. If you can manage to tear yourself away from your business for a week, you could stay at my place. We'll spend the week educating you. By the end, you'll be free of the hindrance of your virginity."

Was the man mad? Thinking she'd go over to some stranger's place and let him have his way with her? She decided to humor him. "And what would you get in exchange for this mitzvah?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I occasionally employ cooks and caterers, but I'm not particularly happy with any of them, and frankly, I like good food. You could cook for me."

"Cook for you?" She shook her head. "It's a vacation. I could probably manage a week away, it's the off season. But no way am I going to spend my time cooking for somebody on my vacation."

His jaw jutted out.

She relented. "I might, however, consider instructing you how to cook some dishes you like."

"I don't cook," he said tersely.

"What, not at all?"

"I can make tea and scrambled eggs."

Her jaw dropped. "Seriously? You're that useless?" She blushed. "In the kitchen, I mean."

He didn't like that, she saw.

"Have you always been rich enough to have people cook for you?" She couldn't imagine what that must be like.

He shook his head. "Only in the last few years. Before then, I ate out, ate frozen meals, or my mom or girlfriend did the cooking."

"Ah. I get it now." She almost felt sorry for him. "I don't imagine there's much point in your learning to be independently fed at this point."

"I'm not too sure about that. Hey, didn't I tell you to come here?"

Janey started. "What?"

"Over here, Janey." He patted the floor. She found herself doing what he said, rising to her feet and walking over to him and then sitting down beside him.

"No. In front of me. There." He moved her by the waist with disturbing ease until Janey felt his warm, hard body behind her through his clothes and hers. He spread her suit jacket out on her lap and wrapped his arm around her waist. She could smell a faint spicy aroma of
male
. It made her flustered. She leaned back against him and gazed unseeingly at the wall on the opposite side of the elevator and squirmed a little.

"Settle down. There's a camera up there and security guys outside. You're not in any danger."

"I'm not
scared
," she said hotly. "I just don't know what you're doing."

"An experiment," he said. She felt him move and then his breath blew warmly in her ear. "How would you like an orgasm right now?"

Janey went rigid. "
What
?" She stopped herself just in time from shrieking the word. It came out more as a squeal.

Still speaking into her ear, he said, "I'd estimate we have at least twenty minutes before the doors open. I should be able to easily give you an orgasm before then. Let's give it a try, anyway. Then you can decide what to do."

She craned her neck to look at him, pretty sure her face must look like a lobster right now. "You can't be serious. You want to have sex right here in this elevator? In front of the camera? You're a sicko."

He didn't seem to get insulted by that. In fact, he appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "Not have sex. Just give you a little orgasm. All you have to do is sit there and look normal for the camera. Don't give any indication of what's happening and nobody will be arrested for public indecency."

"That's
perverted
."

"Really? Okay, well, then it was a bad idea. Forget it." He let go of her waist and leaned back. He seemed pretty casual about the whole thing, regarding her with one eyebrow arched.

She turned back around and stared into space.

Of course it was a bad idea.

Too bad her body wasn't agreeing. A rush of excitement was heating her blood all the way from her feet to the top of her head. The idea of doing what he said actually tempted her a lot. She'd never even thought of doing anything so daring or risqué in her life. Of course, it was ridiculous to think he could actually give her an orgasm. Here. In the elevator. Essentially in public.

Her eyes darted nervously to the security camera on the ceiling.

Twenty minutes.

More like eighteen now.

"I guess this is what I get for whining and feeling sorry for myself," she babbled, thinking aloud as much as talking to him. "It would be stupid to say no. I mean, here you are not being a total slimeball and offering me a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Are you sure you're not a total slimeball?'

She heard him snort. "Did I ever promise that I wasn't one?"

"I guess not." She said glumly, "My record's not real good here. I thought Vince wasn't a slimeball and it turned out I was wrong."

She was just wasting time now, she realized. Too much thinking and the decision would be over for her. "Um. Okay. I'll put my money where my mouth is." She waved her hands around. "You can go ahead and do whatever it is you do. But if they do decide to arrest us,
you
are going to have to pay the bail money. And I'll probably sue you for ruining my reputation."

He laughed. Then she heard him shift and he pulled her back and tucked her up against him cross-legged. As far as the camera was concerned, he was just a guy comforting a nervous girl in a broken elevator.

Probably nobody was even monitoring the surveillance footage, she told herself. And if they were, they couldn't see the masculine hand slide discreetly along her hip and under the bunched-up suit jacket lying haphazardly across her lap. She was the only one aware of it.

Well, and Nyall too, of course.

She shifted a bit. She felt his chest rising gently behind her with the normal rhythm of breathing.
His
heart wasn't pounding like a freight train over rusty tracks.

"I'm just going to slip my hand down your pants and into your panties," he whispered in her ear. "It's elastic all around right?"

Janey swallowed. "Yes," she said inaudibly, then tried again after clearing her throat.

Without further delay, the hand at her waist burrowed inside her pants, crossed the barrier of her underpants, and spread out underneath the cotton fabric. Janey looked down at her lap and was impressed. He did it so smoothly the suit jacket concealing her didn't even move.

Things were starting to get seriously surreal. Janey registered the feel of Nyall Anderson's hand lying on top of her pubic mound. It just lay there not doing anything. She figured he was giving her time to absorb what he was doing.

"Not freaked out so far?" he said.

"Oh, I'm freaked out all right," she said in a tiny voice.

He chuckled. "It'll be fine. Just remember to look casual. Yawn. Look up at the ceiling. Like you're utterly bored."

"Okay," she gulped.

"Relax, Janey. Try counting by fives."

"The waiting is what's killing me," she said through gritted teeth.

"Remember," he said. "Bored. Like you're on a bus in heavy traffic."

Inside her pants, Janey felt one finger move. Just a tiny bit, but her whole body jumped and a whimper escaped her lips before she could think about it.

The finger stilled. "Careful," he cautioned softly in her ear, then lifted his head away and leaned back against the wall, one leg bent at the knee along her side. He pulled her imperceptibly back as he moved.

She glanced around at Nyall and saw that he had his eyes half-closed, his lips were smiling slightly, and he looked lazy. From his indolent pose, nobody would suspect his long arms and body were strategically placed for perfect access to her.

That's how I'm supposed to look
, she thought. She gave it her best shot.

But thinking about her appearance was almost impossible when between her legs, Nyall's finger was probing at her cleft. It wiggled in more deeply and then it brushed by an area so sensitive that Janey's breath drew in sharply.

She'd read books and watched movies and taught herself to pleasure herself, so Janey was pretty sure she knew what that spot was. But she was confused. Never when she touched her own clit had it felt that way, not even remotely. She didn't masturbate all that often, and when she did it felt like a tiny little surprise spasm.

Just the one touch of this man's finger, though, and the vibes were already earthquake-scale. For the first time she considered that maybe he knew what he was talking about and he could actually do what he'd said.

"Wow," she mumbled.

The finger moved slickly over that sensitive area, circling it and rubbing across it. Tingles of delight ricocheted inward to parts of her body she hadn't been aware even possessed nerve endings.

Janey's mind emptied. She stared at the elevator carpet, trying to get her brain back under her command and do what he'd instructed and look preoccupied.

But that finger kept moving, and then there was a pinching pressure that sent a burst of rapture throughout her body. Janey gasped and tried not to squirm.

"Tell me about your catering business," he murmured.

What
?

"The whole allergy thing. I'm curious, why did you choose that particular niche?"

Janey stared unseeingly at the carpet, trying to focus on his words. His finger hadn't stopped touching her as he'd talked. In fact, now it was stroking really swiftly. Janey felt her breathing become labored. It became hard to keep her head straight on her neck.

"Uh—two of my little sisters have—uh—life-threatening food allergies," she managed. "One of them went anaphylactic three times at school because—because she couldn't stay away from the junk food. I started —"

This was hopeless. Her head swam because the fast touch had changed, slowing to a light plucking, then a sweet sliding, around and around and around. It made her want to scream.

Janey's teeth bit her lip in hopes of getting her mind back on track.

"You were saying?" he prompted, his voice sounding polite, just as it would if they were having a slightly tedious conversation while waiting for an elevator to be repaired.

"I—ah—started experimenting—with baking food that was safe for her to eat. And the rest—the rest is his—history."

It was nuts. Surely Nyall's hand had only been buried inside her pants for a couple of minutes at most. Not long enough to make her whole body tremble or send agonizingly delicious ripples through her body that were threatening to take her apart.

She turned her head and met his eyes, her own bewildered.

He raised his brow at her questioningly. The man looked so bored that if she didn't know better, she'd think he was asleep. While between her legs, his hand was pressing her firmly, grinding in tiny circles. Janey shut her eyes and quickly turned back, desperately trying to concentrate.

"That's pretty impressive," he said. "So who financed you? Did you get a loan?"

"M-my parents. They're very—uh—supportive."

Her vision was blurring. Her knuckles were hurting and she realized she'd clasped her hands together and her fingers were like clamps.

Focus. Be cool.

There was a banging on the doors to the elevator. Nyall cocked his head. "Sounds like they're almost in. Guess we'd better get this show on the road, huh, Janey?"

The fingers between her legs did something. She had no idea what. Just that one moment she was quivering, holding her breath and feeling like she was teetering on the edge of something scary and wonderful, and the next delectable pleasure exploded within her—the most exquisite sensations she'd ever felt in her life, including the first time she'd eaten her grandmother's fudge.

Dimly she was aware of his hand discreetly withdrawing from her pants. Of his arm tugging at her limbs and shifting the jacket over her leg. Of his voice casually saying something and him springing to his feet.

All while she sat there trying to manage her expression, pretending to rub her forehead with her arm sleepily while her body dealt with its first real mind-blowing orgasm ever. It went on and on. It didn't feel completely good—in fact, there was something seriously frustrating about it. But it was still amazing.

Slowly she regained her senses, becoming aware of the noises on the doors, mostly scrapes and clattering. She peeked up at Nyall. He was strolling around the elevator now, looking graceful and gorgeous as he aimlessly touched the walls, the panel. It dawned on her that he was providing a distraction for anybody watching on camera.