Authors: Alice Bright
Dreaming of the Billionaire
When Violet says "yes" to working on a project with billionaire Sean Moormead, she doesn't know she'll be spending all of her nights, weekends, and holidays pouring over spreadsheets with him.
To be honest, she finds it rather distracting.
She still can't stop thinking about the kiss that they shared.
She still can't stop wishing it was more.
While Sean admits that he has feelings for Violet, there is something he hasn't told her yet, and it's something that could tear them apart. Is she strong enough to handle Sean's past if it means she can be a part of his future?
Find out in Dreaming of the Billionaire, part 2.
**This is the second book in a 3-part serial.**
Copyright © 2015 by Alice Bright
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Sean Moormead is in my office kissing me.
And a million thoughts are racing through my head.
When he asked me to be his social media manager, I hoped it would lead to more. I needed it to. The way he talked to me, touched me, cared for me, and doted on me made me think that maybe, just maybe, this could be something.
But his constant
I'm not ready
attitude threw me for a loop. If mixed signals were an alcoholic beverage, I'd be drunk right now.
But I'm not.
I'm in his arms, in my office, kissing him like a crazy woman who's been locked up far too long, soaking up every second of this while it lasts. I don't want to let myself believe that he means it when he says that he needs me. This week has been such a rollercoaster of emotions that I don't know if I'm ready.
"Ahem," a sound comes from the doorway and Sean stops kissing me. We both look over. Timothy, my boss, is standing there watching us. Perfect. I don't think he's going to fire me, but he could. My behavior this morning is really, really not professional. If anything, I'm surprised that Timothy doesn't have a boner from the way Sean and I were going at it on my desk.
"Tim," I say, trying not to give away my sudden nervousness. "You know Mr. Moormead."
"Sean, please," Sean extends his hand and Tim gives it a gentle shake. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Shoemaker."
"Likewise," Tim says, looking from Sean to me and then back again. He looks like he wants to say something about my behavior, but after a very, very long second, he doesn't. He turns back to me, seemingly deciding to ignore my make out session, and says, "Meeting upstairs in ten, Vi."
I nod. I remember scheduling the meeting to talk about the direction of the school’s website with the president of the college. Apparently he has some ideas for how the site can be improved.
"I'll be there," I say to Tim. He nods again to Sean, then leaves. Once he's gone, Sean turns back to me and keeps kissing me.
"Mmm," I moan. I feel his kiss throughout my entire body. Every ounce of me is alive. My panties are soaked and I feel his hardness pushing up against me. If Sean thought that kissing me was going to be enough to satisfy me, he was wrong. All I want to do is slam my office door closed and strip him down, kissing every inch of him.
But I can't.
At least not yet.
Finally, I push him away with a regretful smile and tell him I need to get going.
"I kind of can't believe you came over," I tell him honestly. "I didn't think you were ever going to speak to me again."
"I know this week has been weird," he comments thoughtfully. "It's been weird for both of us. There are a lot of things going on in my life right now." This is where he frowns.
I wince, hoping he's not going to change his mind about wanting to be with me. He can't. At least, he can't yet. Not before he actually gets to know me, right? But he doesn't say that he wants out. He doesn't.
"I know," I tell him. "I imagine you're quite a busy man trying to keep your father's business running well." Sean's father owns one of the largest robotics companies in the country. As the oldest son in the family, it's his job to keep everything together, basically.
"It's not just that," he says. "Though that is a big part of it. There are a few things you need to know about me, Violet, before we can decide if this is going to work. I know you have to go, but have dinner with me."
It's not a request and I don't want it to be. Though to be perfectly candid, what I hope we're having for dinner starts with "S" and ends in screaming orgasms for both of us. That might be moving a little quickly, even for billionaire boy, but I don't really care. He makes me so excited and nervous and anxious all at once.
And I bet he knows his way around a pussy.
"Absolutely," I kiss him again, biting his bottom lip softly before I reluctantly release him.
"I'll pick you up at 7," he says. "Dress sexy."
Then he winks and walks out the door. I hear him politely say goodbye to my coworkers before he disappears upstairs. Working in the basement of Southvale Community College's administration building has its downside. Most of the time, I'm sad that I don't have windows in my office because I want to see the sunlight. Today I'm sad because I can't stare at Sean's ass while he walks to his car.
A knock sounds at my door and I look up. Timothy is back.
"Ready to go?" He asks.
Time to show the president of Southvale what I'm made of.
The meeting lasts twice as long as I want it to and gets half as much accomplished. While designing websites and maintaining a positive online presence is sort of my
, it doesn't seem to matter to Jason Carson. While I understand, logically, that he's basically in charge of the community college that controls my paycheck, I
understand where he gets off telling me how to do my job.
"I thought this was a meeting to discuss ideas," I hiss to Timothy as we walk back to the administration building. "
a meeting so Jason could complain about every aspect of the site."
"I'm sorry," Timothy shrugs. I know his hands are tied. He's my superior, but even he has to answer to Jason. "There's not a lot I can do. I know that the website is your thing, but if he's demanding changes, no matter how unreasonable, you need to do what he wants, Vi."
"It's not a matter of doing what he wants," I complain. "It's the fact that he has no idea what's going to draw in new students. I mean, seriously, Tim. Frames? He wants
on the site? I haven't seen a legitimate website with
since about 2004. You've
to be kidding me."
Tim just sighs. We reach the door of his office and he puts his hand on doorknob for a moment before turning it. He seems to be deep in thought.
"I'll talk to him," he says, finally. "I'll see what I can do. Just be ready for anything. I agree with you, Violet. I really, do. The changes he's suggesting are outdated and will probably have a negative effect on the way people view the school. Put together a report, get some articles together, something. Give me something tangible I can use and I'll schedule another meeting."
"Fine. I can do that. When do you want it?"
"Have it to me by tomorrow morning." Then he walks inside his office and collapses into his chair. He's as exhausted as I am, both emotionally and physically. The idea of completely wrecking everything I've worked for is insane to me, not to mention painful. I feel like Jason has no idea how hard I've worked to really boost the image of our school. We have a lot of great programs, but they're useless if no one ever knows about them.
I've poured hours, days, even weeks into creating the perfect website with matching social media profiles. Hell, our school is even on
. We're up-and-coming. We're out there. But making me go back to plain HTML and...frames? Seriously? Jason is going to undo all of my work and I don't know if it's something I can live with.
Reaching my own office, I sit down and slide my chair to the desk. I rest my elbows on the edge of my desk, prop my forehead in my hands, and let out a huge, drawn-out sigh. I can put together some spreadsheets and articles for Tim. I can do that. I just don't even know where to start. Jason is so far out there that I won't be shocked if he doesn't even have a personal email address. He might not even have a Facebook. Fuck. He might not even know what Facebook
I find myself, for the millionth time, resenting the fact that no one seems to care that they hired me to do something and they won't let me do it. At least if I work with Sean, I'll have some respect. I'll have some trust. He’s practically begging me to come work with him to give his company a social media reboot. It's what I'm good at and I know I can do a good job. I only hesitate to say “yes” because I love this job so much and I'm not sure that I can handle both.
But it's looking more and more like I'm going to want to seriously consider Sean's offer.
I open a new browser and start searching for information I can use for this report I'm creating for Tim. If I want any chance of getting my way, I know it has to be incredible. Jason isn't going to talk to me again. He's going to talk to Tim. And I'll be lucky if he even gives Tim a portion of the time we had originally allotted to talk today. He'll have maybe 20 minutes. Tim's going to have to be incredibly persuasive.
None of this would happen if I was working with Sean, I think.
And then I remember our date for tonight. Our date at 7 tonight. Our date where he asked me to look nice because he wanted to take me out properly.
I pick up the phone to cancel, but not before I bang my head against the wall twice. It hurts, but I don't care. This day cannot get any worse.
I twist the hourglass necklace I'm wearing. It's the one Sean gave me. It's the one that reminds me of my mother. It hasn't been long since she died, but sometimes it feels like she's been gone forever. On days like today, all I want to do is go curl up her couch, lean my head on her shoulder, and cry. I miss having my mom to talk to. I miss being able to tell her anything and have it be okay.
I still have Amy and I still have my dad, but sometimes I just really want Mom.
Finishing the presentation for Timothy takes longer than I anticipate. I don't leave the office until after 9pm. It's long after I should have left and it's not like I get paid overtime for shit like this. With a sigh, I make my way through the dark parking lot to my car. I slip inside, start the engine, and turn toward home.
Distracting myself with research today was a good thing, I tell myself. It gave me a chance to focus on actually creating something important and not just on Sean. Part of me still can't believe the way he kissed me this morning. Part of me can't believe he likes me.
I know there's a reason he keeps arguing that he's not ready for a relationship. Maybe it's because he's been hurt before. Maybe he's scared. Maybe his family doesn't like seeing him date women who aren't as wealthy as him. I don't know. It could be anything.
But I get the feeling that it's not going to matter. None of it will.
I've been driving for almost half an hour when I realize that I didn't drive home like I was planning to. Instead, I drove to Sean's. I don't know why.
That's not true: I know exactly why. I can't stop thinking about him. I don't want to wait until tomorrow to see him. Canceling our date was hellish for me, but I also don't know if showing up on his doorstep is acceptable at this point in our relationship.
I pull into his driveway and turn off my car.
I stare at his house for what feels like an eternity. Should I go in? I should go in. Maybe I shouldn't. I don't know. Maybe he's not even home. That's a copout and I know it. The lights on in the house let me know that he's definitely home and he's probably relaxing by himself, maybe with a glass of wine.
Maybe in his boxers.
Finally, I pick up the phone and call him. He answers on the second ring and his sultry voice melts my heart.
"Hello." It's a statement, not a question.
"Hey, Sean, it's Violet."
"I know. Come inside."
"How do you know I'm here?"
"I can see you, Vi. Come in."
I peek out the front window of my car and can see his silhouette in the living room window. Okay, so he is home. He probably thinks I'm a total weirdo now for just showing up like this, but at this point, I don't really care. I hop out of my car and scurry up to the front door, wishing suddenly that I had sprayed some perfume on or
. I hope I don't smell like someone who just spent the entire day and then some at an office.
He opens the door before I even knock and wraps his arms around me. He doesn't kiss me. He just holds me. I can't complain because it feels amazing. Everything about this moment feels incredible. Part of me wonders how I've gone my entire life without knowing Sean. He makes me feel comfortable, safe, and excited.
"I'm glad you're here," he says to me, running his hand through my hair.
"Me too," I murmur. "I'm sorry I just showed up. I just sort of ended up here."
"You're always welcome, Beautiful." Then his lips are on mine and he's consuming me in an incredible kiss that takes my breath away. I feel weak. I feel powerful. I feel hot and cold at the same time. I feel everything I could ever want to feel and then more. I don't understand how Sean and I could have known each other for such a short period of time, but feel like it's been forever.
He finally pulls away and I'm able to catch my breath. I soak up his sparkling green eyes and just smile. I'm sure I look like a huge dork with this cheesy grin on my face, but I don't care.
"I had the worst day," I say. "I'm really glad you let me in."
"What? As opposed to leaving you out on the porch all night?" He smiles. "Come on. Let's get you something to drink."
I watch him strut confidently into the kitchen. He's wearing black silk pants. I guess they're the rich-person equivalent of sweats. His black t-shirt clings to him, revealing his muscular arms and back. I wonder how much he works out. Maybe he has a home gym somewhere around here. Maybe he has a personal trainer.
I glance down at my own body, briefly self-conscious about my extra bit of pudge. I'm not fat by any means, but I do like to eat. My not-entirely-flat stomach showcases this for the world to see. Oh well. Sean seems to not care. He's seen me naked a couple of times now, so I guess he must not mind.
Following him into the other room, I slide onto a barstool at his kitchen counter. He grabs a glass and drops a couple of ice cubes in before asking what I want to drink.
"Whiskey." He looks surprised at my answer, but I'm not. We drank a lot of wine the other night, so he probably assumes I don't know my way around a bar. How wrong he is. I spent a summer bartending, so there's not much about alcohol I don't know. I can make a lot of different drinks and I can make them well, but my personal favorite has always been, and always will be, plain ol' whiskey.
He pours the liquor and hands it to me. I take a sip, close my eyes, and sigh as it burns down my throat. I immediately feel warm all over and more relaxed than I have all day. This is the life.
"Good?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. I just nod and finish the glass.
"My day sucked," I tell him. "And I'm not really sure what to do about it."
"I might have an idea."