HONEY GIRL: BILLIONAIRE (Book 2) Read online

  HONEY GIRL

  BILLIONAIRE: BOOK 2

  $

  by Juliette Jones

  Copyright © 2014 Juliette Jones

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed or scanned in any electronic or printed form without permission.

  HONEY GIRL is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Cover art photo used under license from Shutterstock.com

  First Edition: September 2014

  $

  Lila

  He lay next to me, still asleep. His black hair was all askew, framing his face in artful, silky disarray. The cinnamon skin of his brawny shoulders looked dark, as always, next to my pale curves. He lay on his stomach, his face turned towards me, his muscular arm curled around a pillow. His full lips were barely parted, his face peaceful. He looked young in his sleep. Relaxed. That visceral, male aggression that clung to him softened when he slept, but the innate arrogance was somehow still there. In the curve of his mouth. In his strong features and the dark stripes of his eyebrows. I watched him sleep for a few minutes, fascinated by his mesmerizing flawlessness. He was astoundingly beautiful.

  He had the build of an athlete. Tall and toned with graceful bones. Powerful, with the kind of strength that draws your eye and makes you aware of it. Of how easily it would be for him to use it. On you. Of how brutal he could be when he drove his immense, thick, hard-as-stone cock deep into you, forcing wave after wave of raw, lustrous pleasure.

  I could have touched him, with feather-light strokes across his shoulders. Down his back. I could have rubbed myself against him and kissed his perfect lips, licking him, tasting the minted, drugging flavor of him. I knew he’d be instantly ready for me.

  Alexander was always ready.

  But today was the day I was starting my new job. As Alexander’s assistant.

  Not as his assistant, I reminded myself. As his business partner.

  This whirlwind romance had not only landed me a gorgeous sex-god of a fiancé, it had also placed me at the right hand of one of the most powerful CEOs in New York City: founder, owner and mastermind of Wolfe Enterprises. Alexander was the executive of the esteemed and hugely successful magazine Skyscraper. He also owned two major book publishers and ran several investment companies, hedge funds, and a number of cash cow Internet businesses.

  He was a type-A genius with a dark side and a voracious carnal appetite. Which he took out on me whenever he got the opportunity. Which was, it had to be said … often.

  It was Monday morning. Early. Earlier than we usually woke. We’d become night owls, the two of us. Darkness was our erotic haven, where we could exist only for each other.

  I didn’t regret a single decision. Of course I didn’t. But sometimes when I stopped to think about things, like now, in the quiet of a purple-skied dawn, I almost felt a sense of vertigo from the gargantuan shift my life had taken over the course of exactly two months.

  Two months.

  Two months ago, I’d been a capable yet fumbling, unemployed, broke, virginal recent-graduate who dressed in baggy clothes, wore unfashionable glasses, had a bad haircut and who preferred to keep all members of the opposite sex at arm’s length. And now? Well, times had most definitely changed. At least when it came to one particular member of the opposite sex.

  I lay in the semi-darkness and took in my surroundings. The heavy, decorative drapes that framed Alexander’s – our – bedroom windows were never drawn. We were too high up to be visible to the mortals down below. Our view overlooked the distant streets, the treetops of Central Park, the gritty, graceful skyline of some of New York’s most expensive real estate. It was early October and the deep indigo of the city night hung on. The quiet, expansive room hummed with plush, cocooned luxury. Alexander’s bed was huge, swathed in expensive cotton and silk, most of which had been displaced and/or rumpled by our lovemaking.

  At this, I’d proven a prodigy. Whoever thought virgins took things slow once they finally got going at the advanced age of twenty … well, they hadn’t put me in a locked room with Alexander Wolfe. It had taken all of thirty minutes for us to get not only intimate but downright feral. There had been a desperation to it that I still couldn’t explain. Physically, we were like magnets. Greedy, superstrength magnets who had no choice or control. None of it made sense, really. That we’d been willing to risk everything to get as close as humanly possible from that very first encounter – and every encounter since. Who does that? What highly educated, soon-to-be professional, modern woman throws all – and I mean all – caution to the wind just to get down and dirty with a ridiculously sexy, overconfident billionaire?

  This one, apparently.

  He was my drug and my addiction. With him, lines became skewed and normal considerations simply did not apply. To not get close to him proved impossible. To not want to get close to him seemed insane.

  Alexander.

  My lover. My devil and my saint. My strength and my weakness.

  My fiancé.

  Beautiful, crazy Alexander. All mine.

  I was intensely happy that we would spend the day together. That we’d spend every day together. That seemed to be our way, though. Since I’d met him to interview for the position of his assistant, we’d been … completely overcome, to put it mildly. Inseparable and insatiable. He had difficulty letting me out of his sight, and I knew why. I knew what fueled his protective instincts. Still, it would now be a challenge for him: seeing me at work, having me ensconced in his professional setting. In his office and meeting with his staff. It would be difficult for us both. To resist temptation. To act like normal people and not amped-up, lust-crazed hedonists.

  I’ll agree to try to employ you, Alexander had said. I can’t guarantee that this will work for me, though. I’m too close, too deep. I need to be able to focus on my companies, without distractions. And you, my sweet Lila, are more of a distraction than I can handle.

  We’d fought about it but that had been before my meltdown. Before Jake had rescued me. I knew Alexander wouldn’t risk driving me away again. I now had a ring on my finger and a key to his universe, to come and go as I liked. He would tame himself, or he would die trying.

  I hoped it could work.

  And I wanted to be ready for it.

  Silently, I rose from the bed, taking care not to wake him. I needed some time to prepare myself, physically as well as mentally. It had been a while since I’d worked or studied, or done anything at all except immerse myself in the decadent idyll of Alexander’s attentions.

  I showered alone.

  Already, I missed him. The contact. The closeness and the warmth. If I’d stayed in bed, dozing, he would have woken me like he always did. With his mouth on me, licking into me, softly opening me with his tongue, his hair silken against the sensitive skin of my thighs. Or with his cock, pressing its huge, hard heat against me as he spooned me, cradling me in his all-encompassing embrace. At first he’d just hold me. Then I’d feel him finding his way inside, barely entering me. He’d wait, pressing gently until my body began to soften and dew. I’d arch sleepily against him, taking more. And more. Until I became slippery enough for him to slide his massive arousal deep, and deeper, filling me, possessing me entirely. His fingers would be everywhere, intimate and playful. Coaxing warm, blissful pleasure. His powerful hold would demand submission, but I’d squeeze him with my body, pressing back against him invitingly, taking everything he gave. Making demands of my own. My own pleasure would tug at his, drawing the ecstasy out of him in clenching, undulating pulls, until he flooded me wit
h his liquid heat. He’d stay inside me. We might sleep a little more. This time when he woke me, I might feel him at my breast, suckling lazily, feeding on me like I was offering him some kind of spiritual sustenance that was drugging to him. When we were fully sated, we’d get up. We’d shower together. He’d wash me and I’d wash him, my careful fingers soaping him everywhere. We’d make love again. Because we couldn’t get enough. Our hunger for each other was relentless. Eventually, we’d venture out into the day. We’d eat at a restaurant and talk. We’d walk a little, and he’d buy me something he saw in a window. Gold earrings. A cashmere sweater. A leather coat that cost more money than I’d made in my life. We’d visit a museum or a gallery, see a movie, or just walk. We might meet his brother somewhere and have a drink together. And then the two of us would return to his limo and make love, starved all over again.

  Not today.

  Today we’d be working.

  I dressed in one of the many outfits he’d bought me. I chose a sleeveless sea-green silk tunic that matched the color of my eyes. It was a fitted wrap-around that was simple yet elegant, professional but feminine. I brushed my long blond hair and pinned it up in a French twist. Gold hoop earrings, my gold watch and my new ring were the only (real) jewelry I owned – all given to me by Alexander. I couldn’t help wondering how much he’d spent on my engagement ring. It was beautifully designed, a solid, rose-gold band inlaid with the largest, glintiest diamond I’d ever seen. It looked very, very expensive.

  I wondered how Alexander’s staff would take this new development: that his new assistant was also his new fiancée.

  Putting on some light makeup, I walked back into the bedroom.

  His eyes were open.

  He rolled onto his back and slung one arm behind his head. The way he moved was insouciant, utterly self-assured. So purely Alexander.

  Damn.

  His body was unreal. Big and bronzed and hair-dusted and fully aroused.

  “Lila,” he said, his lazy, sexy charisma hitting me where it always did. In the most intimate place imaginable. That sleep-roughened edge to his voice reminded me of his rasped growls and lust-driven oaths … when he was inside me, groaning my name as we climaxed together, my body spasming around the hard, beautiful bulk of him. “Come here.” He patted the bed.

  I went to him and sat down.

  His fingers entwined with mine and he played idly with my ring, looking into my eyes. “Let’s get married soon. I don’t want to wait.” The combination of his sincerity and his staunch manliness was riveting to me, almost unbearably alluring. “Something small. At one of my houses. Whichever one you want. At the hotel in Paris, or on the beach in Key West. Or maybe in my vineyard in Malibu, overlooking the ocean. I think you’ll like it there. Water Mill is quiet this time of year. We could do it there, if you don’t want to travel too far. Or in Maine, on my island. It’s very secluded.”

  “They all sound nice.” I’d never been to any of those places. Except Paris, of course.

  “Or we could do it right here in the city if you want to.”

  “I really don’t mind where I marry you, Alexander. As long as I do.”

  His slow smile just about killed me. “You weren’t here, in my bed with me, where I need you,” he accused gently, that alpha glint touching his expression. “You’re dressed,” he added, sulky with the observation.

  “I’m getting ready. Since I start work with you today. Remember?”

  A smile played at the corner of his mouth. Of course he remembered. He was amused by how eager I was. I was eager. In my former life it would’ve seemed too good to be true. I wouldn’t just be working as an underling at Skyscraper, which just so happened to be the most glamorous magazine in publication, that rare combination of stylish and acclaimed, whose editors-at-large included Pulitzer prize-winning journalists, supermodels, film directors, bestselling authors, rock stars, celebrity chefs, presidents and aging beat poets, to name just a few. I wouldn’t just be answering phones and typing memos, I would be meeting these people. Expanding the list. Learning about everything, at Alexander’s side. I would read the articles before they went to press. I would take part in the art direction and the decisions about shoot locations and the relevance of political op-ed pieces. I’d been fantasizing about jobs like this one all through the long days and dark nights of my gloomy adolescence and the toiling, grinding slog of my hard-won Ivy League education.

  This was no longer my former life. This was my new, Alexander-charmed life. And today was the day. Today I could finally use all that.

  With him.

  The job itself didn’t make me nervous in the slightest. The only thing that made me nervous was Alexander. How the intensity of our … attraction would mesh with life amongst the cubicles. Not that Alexander ever got near a cubicle, but still. It would be weird, after our orgasmic sexathon over the past month to return to normality. To refrain. To have to wait. To be near him but not allowed to touch.

  “There’s no rush,” he said. “The meeting doesn’t start until nine. Our commute is exactly three minutes by elevator.”

  “I know,” I said. “But’s already almost seven thirty. I think we should get started. Do I look all right?”

  His dark eyes appraised my face, the flattering fit of my stylish new clothes. The smoldering glimmer of his gaze made my stomach flutter. Slowly, he shook his head.

  “No?” I touched my hair.

  “You don’t look ‘all right’. You look so fucking gorgeous it hurts. Right here,” he said, placing his hand on his heart.

  I smiled, leaning to hold his hand, to kiss his broad chest, as though to ease his pain.

  “And here,” he smirked, his eyes heavy-lidded. His hand slid to his massive, engorged erection.

  His phone rang, splicing through the quiet, intimate privacy and the sparked anticipation. On any other day, he would have ignored the call. I would have climbed onto him and kissed him everywhere, taking him into my mouth, letting the world fade away. Today he’d committed to meetings and attending to overdue issues with his companies. There was an investigation going on in the business Jake was in charge of that was getting a lot of unwanted attention. Alexander had taken more time off in the past month than in the entire course of his business career and his minions were getting impatient. Seven thirty on Monday morning was fair game. He picked up his phone and answered it gruffly.

  I got up, letting him concentrate on what was clearly an urgent complaint by whoever the caller was. I went to the walk-in closet – which, after Alexander’s latest shopping spree (for me), was now almost half-full of my new, expanding wardrobe. I put on the new pair of Balenciaga boots Alexander had bought me, to replace the ones I’d ruined when I’d run from him through the pouring rain. I wouldn’t be needing my favorite coat, since we didn’t have to go outside to get to the downstairs office suites.

  We could live our whole lives in this building, safely locked away. The thought sent a ripple of unease through me, but then it was gone. I had the key now. I could let myself out anytime I wanted to.

  I was putting on some lipstick when he came up behind me. He slid his steel-strong arms around my waist and nipped at my neck. Alexander had such complete erotic power over me that his lusty, possessive bite was enough to rock me to my core. His huge, hard shaft pressed strongly against the rounded curves of my ass. But his arms were gentle and his words were tender as he nuzzled my neck, biting softly like he was marking me as his own. “Are you nervous?”

  “About the job? No. I’m excited. I feel ready.”

  “You are ready,” he said. “You’ll be amazing today, Lila. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be right there with you. Whenever you need me.”

  I turned to face him. As always, the stunning vision of him made my chest feel heavy with happiness.

  God, I loved him.

  At first it had shocked me that I could fall this hard and this fast for someone I barely knew. Then again, by the time I even got around to questio
ning the warp-speed momentum of my connection to Alexander, I’d already had hot, unprotected sex with him twice. Questioning the momentum after he’d repeatedly spent himself inside me had seemed a little ridiculous. It had been crazy. Wild. Unstoppable in a way that broke every rule and recast every boundary. We’d both been all in. Alexander was the one. I didn’t need years or even months to figure that out. I’d known it all along, from that very first moment.

  “Whenever I need you?” I repeated, laughing as his strong, warm hand curled around the nape of my neck. His hard cock slid against my stomach and I could feel the heat of his desire through the thin silk layer of my clothing.

  He chuckled, nipping the soft hollow below my ear with his teeth. He understood. Our attraction from the word go was … intense. “You’ll have to try to resist me for five minutes.”

  “I can’t resist you, you know that.”

  “We’re just not used to exercising control when it comes to each other,” he said. “Everything will be fine, once we get started. You’ll see.”

  I placed my palm gently against his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat. Sure we could. We could behave like rational, professional adults. We could control our urges and subdue our over-indulged libidos when we needed to.

  “You will be perfect,” he continued, kissing me lightly, “the star academic, the new Princeton grad with shining credentials and talent to burn. I will be the pinnacle of discipline and self-control. As I always have been. Before you showed up. And even when you, my Lila, my Kryptonite, walks into the room – or out of it – I’ll make every attempt not to morph into a raving psychopathic lunatic.”

  Alexander had a few control issues. He had a problem letting me out of his sight: it made him a little manic. We were working on it. His smile was half-apologetic at the reference to his recent fuck-up, when he’d locked me in his bedroom, triggering my total meltdown.

  But I’d already forgiven him for all that.