The Billionaire's Wife (4 page)

I kicked off my shoes and tossed my jacket on the couch. Not because he told me so, mind you. I put both hands on my waist and inhaled deep and pushed the air out of my nose. I did it a few times, and when I hit number ten, I realized I wasn't doing it to calm myself. I was waiting for him to apologize. When I faced him, I realized my breaths were wasted. He was more concerned with the glass in his hand.

"To answer your question, dinner was awful. And awkward."

"That's too bad."

"What the fuck, Jacob?" I snapped. Every bit of bottled up frustration boiled over. I knew that matching his obvious anger would do this situation no favors, but I couldn't put the stopper back in the bottle. "She didn't know. It was a perfectly innocent question."

He barely batted an eye. "Cole is none of their business."

"Even that would have been an improvement over what you said," I spat. When he slid off the stool with his eyes on a refill, I intercepted him. "How many have you had?"

His eyes were fire and brimstone. "I didn't appreciate your maternal digs at dinner, and they are still unwelcome."

"I get it!" I yelled, balling my fists so tight that my palms cried out in anger. "Your mom did something horrible. First she kept Cole's existence from you, then she took him away again when she told you about his foster parents." I relaxed my grip, suddenly feeling lighter. Like this unspoken truth was finally out. This burden I'd been clutching was finally lifted—and I didn't need to yell and gnash my teeth to get it out. Jacob was looking at me. He saw me—and for the first time all night, he was listening.

I gently took his glass and put it on the counter and held his face in my hands. The tables were turned—he usually held me. He was usually the one that told me everything was going to be okay. In a weird way this mess with Cole had opened up this whole new connection. A way for me to be there for Jacob. To let him know that it was okay to be vulnerable.

I could take care of him too.

I dove into his eyes, swimming in the blue waves that crashed into me. "You're not alone, Jacob."

He leaned in closer, his forehead against mine. I drowned in the emotions staring back at me. "Hearing you say that, being there for me even when I push you away—and after the way I acted at dinner..." His voice was filled with anguish and remorse. "I am so sorry, Lay. I'm not that person." He caressed my cheeks with his knuckles. "I am so in love with you. And grateful. At the end of the day, I don't want to ever lose sight of what's important. The Cole situation is far from over, but I know as long as it's you and me, I can weather any storm."

And as if his open, beautiful words weren't enough, he took my lips and showed me how much I meant to him. His lips danced over mine, his tongue tracing the outline, making my heart stammer in my chest and the tingle of warmth spread all over me. And then we went deeper, both of us moaning, begging, promising. He gripped my hair and tugged me backward, my neck exposed and ripe for his touch. He set fire to my skin, lips and teeth marking my flesh until I trembled and clasped him.

"Tell me what you need," I murmured, lost in him.

He drew his lips to my ear. "You, Leila. Only you."

I entwined my arms around his neck and pulled him off the stool. Lips on his, I raked my nails down his chest. I lingered at the fly of his jeans, knowing what I wanted, but looking to him. Asking with a sly smile.

He returned it with a smile of his own. "If you see something you want, take it."

I tore open his fly and slid my hand inside, finding exactly what I wanted. I stroked every hardened inch of him, watching his face morph as he came undone in my grip. When I saw the flash of oblivion, and felt his muscles tighten, I paused, leaning in to tease his lips with my own.

"I want to go upstairs, and I want you to bind me...and fuck me until we explode."

He was pulling me up the staircase before I even got the last word out.  Our clothing made a messy trail of breadcrumbs until we hit the edge of the bed.

He only came up for air to push the lever beside the bed that exposed our little secret. Four cuffs-two at the head of the bed, two at the foot, attached to a system that allowed for a variety of positions where I'd be completely at his mercy.

I walked seductively towards the bed even though I wanted to skip like a little girl who knew she was about to get a double scoop of her favorite ice cream.

I glanced up at him behind hooded eyes. "How do you want me?"

His eyes flickered up and down my body with delight. "On your back, so I can see you."

I bit my lip and scooted backward, feeling the cool of the sheets on my skin and the heat of desire in his gaze. I saw his lust in the way he looked at me, turning every part of my body into an erogenous zone. My scalp tingled when he swept a curl that fell into my eyes behind my ear. My nipples pebbled as his tongue swept across his lips. His journey continued, the pools of blue brushing my navel, giving my goosebumps. When he reached my sex, his gaze lingered. I throbbed beneath his watch. Wondering what he had planned. Needing to feel him inside.

He touched my intimate folds ever so slightly. Enough to make me groan and raise my hips to meet him.

My punishment was swift, his fingers clutching my nipple and squeezing until I cried out.

"My instructions were clear-on the bed, on your back." He released his hold, but he thumbed the sensitive peak, sending wave after wave of pleasure that crashed into the painful ache. "I'll take care of you."

He exemplified his point by gently wrapping the cuffs around my ankles. His hands smoothed up and down the length of my calves as he waited for my breathing to slow. For me to match his strokes.

Breathe in.

Out.

God, it was so hard to not reach for him when he stood within my grasp, his thick cock bulging and wild, met by the strong, measured calm of the Dominant. A man who was in no rush because he knew that my world turned when he said it did. I was enslaved to his delicious whim.

I was spread eagled. Bare and exposed. Jacob strode to the chest, filled with all the erotic paths we could take. My heart lurched excitedly when he pulled out the cat o' nine tails whip. He gripped the base, the multi strands of leather shuddering as he turned back to me with trouble in his eyes.

He stood beside me, glistening like some perfect marble statue come to life, drinking in my reaction to the whip in his hand. I trembled as the strips of leather licked my nipples. He snapped his wrist and there was nothing gentle about their second touch. The third made me ball my fists. The fourth made me curl my toes. Just as my nipples started anticipating the strikes, swelling, reaching for more, he slowly drew the strands downward. Sweeping over my tummy, resting when he reached my core. I was so wet, throbbing as furiously as the heart that pounded in my chest.

A moan reverberated in the back of his throat when he reared back and pounded my erotic flesh. Each strike had me writhing. Pleading.

"Don't stop," I begged. "Please Jacob—don't stop!"

Each lash made me gasp, then I groaned as he thrust his fingers inside me to see how wet he was making me. Each rotation made him a little more lost. A little more breathless. I saw that look in his eye. The whip had played its part, but he needed more. He needed to be inside me.

He mounted the bed, bending my knees. He was in between, the head of him right there. Lingering.

And then he drove inside.

Every thrust echoed over me. Split me in two and put me back together. I couldn't touch him because I was bound, but he touched me in my innermost place, cupping my cheek as he moved.

"I'm so close," I moaned, trying to keep my sanity and my climax at bay the best I could. It became harder and harder as I watched his face change. His guard was completely down now. He let me see how vulnerable he was when he was inside me. How out of control.

"Come for me, Lay." His voice deepened. "Show me how good it feels."

As if a green light shone or a gunshot sent me sailing from the starting block, I soared. My body was the liquid that flowed from me. The spasms that pulled me under; that took over my bones. It was all too much and not enough.

He let out a moan of abandon as he got caught up in the bliss, his warmth flowing into me like honey.

I closed my eyes and lived in the moments after. Completely spent. Our bodies melting into one.

He pressed his lips against my forehead and released my arms, then my ankles. My body was still trembling, still recovering when he pulled me close. I opened my eyes and smiled when I saw he was watching me with wonder.

"What?"

"I feel sorry for my mother," he murmured, his face clouded. "I used to think she was always in search of the next shiny thing or prestigious philanthropic award. Money. Prestige. But I see now that she was trying to fill an empty void inside her. She was starving for love...and too blind to see the love right in front of her." He paused, his jaw tensing. "The love of a child. So she resigned us all to her fate. Searching for love and coming up empty."

I ran my fingers through the wavy locks on his forehead. This was the first time he had talked about his mother and Cole since the dinner. "How can I be there for you?"

He smiled. A smile that was filled with hope. "You're doing it. You're doing it just by being here. Just by loving me. Your love is all I need, Leila."

I leaned in, brushing the tip of my nose against his with a playful smirk on my lips. "Well, that was easy."

He chuckled, pulling me in so my cheek rested against his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too." I traced a heart on his skin, then kissed it. "Always."

I
shifted my satchel from my left to my right shoulder, eyeballing the digital display that seemed to be especially slow. The morning had started off with promise—I woke up with Jacob's lips wrapped around my nipple. And just as I slid my hand between our bodies, his phone pumped the brakes. One of Whitmore and Creighton’s A list clients was in a bind and refused to work with anyone but Jacob, so he had to head to Paris. Usually Jacob's commitment to our clients was endearing, but I wanted that hands on commitment on my body. And between my thighs.

But he supported my ambitions and I supported him, helping him pack a bag and making him a coffee to go. I even rode down in the elevator with him to meet the town car (mostly so I could sneak in a few more kisses).

I didn't have too much time to pout because I had a busy morning ahead of me too. Back to back meetings with clients, including a new one. A twenty something fledgling musician who wanted an image upgrade to take him to the next level. I'd received the addition late last night so I didn’t have the chance to research him, but that's why I was dragging myself in at 7:30am—with sleep in my eyes, and a bag that felt like it was filled with bricks. An unpleasant reminder of all that I had to do.

I counted my blessings. It was too early for Natasha to be at her post, either ignoring me altogether or making me
wish
she ignored me altogether. But the joy from that was short lived. The executive floor was dark and deserted, and just reminded me that Jacob was gone for a few days...after things were finally improving. We still hadn't talked about what he was going to do about Cole, but that ultimately wasn't important. Jacob was talking about the situation instead of bottling it up and letting it eat him alive. He was letting me support him.

I flicked on the light. The illumination spread like dominos but the quiet hung eerie and heavy in the air. I hated to admit it, but I almost missed Natasha's icy gaze.

I shuffled to my office, unloaded my arms, then made a beeline for the coffee machine. I thumbed through my emails while I was waiting for the water to boil. There was an email from my mom, opening with how much she hated emailing but it was the only way she could be sure it would reach me. An email from Mia, filled with pictures of her and Liam, cuddly and happy in the UK. Just as I was about to type in the name Finn Lancaster, the freshman musician and my 8am appointment, I heard the beep from the intercom that there was someone requesting access to the executive floor.

I picked up the touchscreen with the video feed and nearly dropped the bag of ground coffee.

Even in a beanie, flannel, jeans, and shades there was no mistaking the person on the screen.

It was Cole.

I drew a deep breath, then decided to take another. My hands were still shaking because I couldn't get the word 'murder' out of my head. He looked so inconspicuous. He even flashed a nervous smile in the direction of the camera, like he could sense that I was watching. It was the same smile that made me blush and reminded me so much of Jacob. The easy confidence that came from within. The gentleness that Jacob hid behind two piece suits and stony glares.

But there was nothing gentle about murder.

The water whistled through the silence and I nearly jumped out of my skin, covering my mouth in horror like Cole was at the door with a butcher knife.

"Calm down, Lay," I chided myself. I pulled the kettle off the burner and put the coffee down, bracing myself on the counter. Caffeine was no longer necessary. I was officially awake and on high alert.

The intercom beeped again.

I peered at the screen like I would get some sort of sign as to what to do next. Maybe I'd see some twitch, or he'd reach in his pocket and I'd know that the call I needed to make was to security. But he was just waiting. Patiently. Innocently.

My finger made the decision for me and tapped the accept button. We could talk back and forth.

"What are you doing here, Cole?"

Cole looked around the elevator, my voice surprising him. He turned back to the camera and flashed that damning smile again. "Leila, is that you?"

"No, it's God." He laughed at the joke, and I kicked myself for making it in the first place. I shouldn't be joking with him. I shouldn't be talking to him at all. "What are you doing here?"

The smile faltered and he stuffed his hands in his pocket. "Jacob stopped taking my calls so I wanted to see what was going on."