Bound Beneath His Pain: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel (7 page)

“Thank you very much, Princess Gracie,” Micah replies, watching her work.

Liv nudges me on the arm and says, slyly, “Rethinking saying no to a date with him?”

I shrug at her, it being the only honest answer I can give. If only dating Micah were so easy. If only he weren’t a billionaire and perfectly happy living a simple life. If only he weren’t in the public eye and my dating him wouldn’t expose my secrets. There are too many
huge
if only
’s to take that leap.

I can’t forget that.

But then his smoky eyes meet mine, clearly catching me looking at him, and my breath hitches, tingles rush in my veins, and everything becomes so very uncomplicated. I want to know why he gives me butterflies. I want to know all the complicated layers to him. I want to accept the way he’s offering himself to me now, bearing the
real
him to me, not showing me the man he projects as a shield.

And if I’m being honest, I want to know his secrets, while that gorgeous man is delivering on his dark and sensual promises.

Loud grunts and heavy breathing fill the air around me, as I drop my duffel bag down next to the mixed martial arts cage in
Frisco’s
Gym in North Beach. I reach inside my bag, grabbing out my ringing phone. “Holt,” I say into it.

“Micah, it’s Travis. Anderson and Isabella are here on speaker, too.”

Everyone knows I come to the gym before my lunch hour. The fact that no one wants to wait until I return to the office to arrange a meeting tells me I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear.

I drop down onto the bench, staring out at the boxing ring across the gym, watching two men pound the hell out of each other. “What’s up?”

“I went back over Richardson’s financials,” Travis continues. “And considering we’re requesting a meeting with Bennett, I thought this conversation shouldn’t wait.”

“Go on,” I say.

Anderson speaks now, voice grim. “It’s still not looking good. In fact, reading the reports a second time makes things appear worse.”

Before I can reply to ask for more details, Isabella adds, “We bought Richardson as an acquisition. If the plan was to save the company, we should have offered less than what we paid, and then used keeping the company alive as a bargaining technique. We all know that Henry Richardson would’ve sold for less if he thought someone would keep the company afloat. We backed him into a corner and gave him no choice but to sell to us, because we paid him more than our competitors offered.”

“She’s right,” Anderson agrees. “In time, of course we could see success with Richardson. But hiring Bennett Inc. to give the company a deeper look only takes away from our profit. And we all know that this isn’t an easy fix. Bennett’s team will need to stay around for at least a quarter to get things moving in the right direction, which won’t come cheap. It’ll be a good year or two before we ever see a return on the investment.”

I ponder taking the rest of Richardson’s employees and moving them into Holt, but immediately toss out that idea. That’s the simplest answer to this conundrum. But, right now, we don’t have a big enough residential real estate department to support them and likely won’t for some time—which is why I originally acquired Richardson, so we could grow that business at Holt.

“Which brings us back to my original point,” Isabella adds, dryly. “Why are we doing this? Financially, strategically, it doesn’t make sense, Micah.”

I hesitate, considering my next steps. It
is
possible to come up with a new direction for Richardson that will somehow benefit Holt. I feel my instincts telling me not to give up yet, and I never doubt myself in regard to business.

My team isn’t seeing the possibility, because I pay them not to see it. They make smart financial decisions for Holt, and this isn’t a smart decision. But I won’t force them to agree either. The last thing I want is a bunch of drones—yes-people—around me.

I realize this can’t work for Holt, because it’s about
me.
This is a personal decision I made because of
Allie.
Richardson is
my
risk. “I hear what you’re saying and I know what I need to do.” Either go back on my word with Allie or take this on as a personal investment. “Leave this with me for now, so I can make some decisions.”

“All right, Micah,” says Anderson, voice strong in support of me. “You’ll let us know of your plans?”

“I will.” I end the call then drop my phone back into my duffel bag.

The game is changed now. Financially it makes no sense to dump money into Richardson, but I gave Allie my word in that second of complete insanity. A second where I acted like someone I didn’t even know. Yet now it doesn’t seem so insane anymore. I saw something in her then that I didn’t want to disappoint. I still see that in her now. I’m done questioning my choices. I’m done acting like a guy I don’t know.

I concur. I overpower. I take whatever the fuck I want to take.

“You should’ve warned me of your mood.” My driver’s, Levi Ward’s, amused voice drags me from my thoughts. He scrapes a hand over his buzzed-cut brown hair, his wise copper eyes assessing me. “Then I might have brought an ice pack with me.”

“Pussy.” I grin.

He barks a laugh, dropping down on the bench next to me, and begins removing his running shoes. Levi’s not only the
best
fighter I know, he’s more like family to me than a hired driver.

His father, Arthur, had worked as my parents’ butler since my birth. But five years ago, I gave him a million-dollar retirement package to walk away with that he could not refuse, forcing his retirement.

Levi’s father had been kind to me.

He pitied me during my childhood, and brought Levi over so I didn’t spend my days surrounded by adults who talked business. My life was different than Levi’s, but our youth together bound us so strongly that I knew Levi didn’t
want
from me like everyone else did. There’s no one in my life I trust more than Levi. That’s why he’s my driver.

“So, do tell, what did the world do to piss you off today?” Levi asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “And how badly will you punish me for it?” I see the fire in his eyes for the fight ahead. Perhaps it’s his military background or that we grew up together or it’s his nature, but Levi doesn’t hold back when fighting me. And he’s
nearly
as good as me in the cage, being trained in mixed martial arts alongside me while growing up.

What I want to say is that a woman is weakening me, leading me to make bad business decisions, and is seeing past all my expertly crafted barriers. I feel the heat of the beast swirling within, and that fire needs to stay buried, while I pursue the sweet, innocent Allie. But she also has me by the balls, making me do things I would never otherwise do, and I don’t like it.

Instead of saying all of that, I reach into my duffel bag and grab my gloves. “No one pissed me off. It’s business.”

“I’ve never seen you like”—Levi freezes halfway from reaching for something out of his bag and studies me long and hard—“this over business before.”

I slide my left hand into the open-fingered glove then tighten the strap around my wrist. “It’s because it’s not
entirely
business.”

Levi pulls out his gloves and starts laughing, shaking his head. “Ah, so that’s what this is all about—a woman. Of course. I should have known that the second I saw the look on your face.”

I snort, putting the glove on my right hand and tightening the wristband. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a comment.”

Levi rises, grinning at me. “So, princess, what are you going to do about your dilemma?”

“First, I’m going to kick your ass for calling me
princess.
” I slap my gloves together, standing in front of him, wearing a smile I know could intimidate some, but doesn’t intimidate Levi. “And then I’ll decide what to do about the girl.”

But I don’t need to decide about Allie
,
only about Richardson. Because I already have a plan for Allie, and after I kick Levi’s ass, bringing myself back under control, keeping my demons at bay, I plan to get some more ass, and that’s Allie’s.

The offices around mine are empty and most of the overhead lighting is turned off for the night when I press my phone tight against my ear and grumble at Kevin, “Your clients are
still
undecided?” I glance at the clock, seeing it’s already seven and hating the fact that I’m still at work. I don’t want to be. But I can’t mess up my first deal at Holt. I told Micah I would kick ass. I gotta kick ass.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin replies, voice full of sympathy. “I know you were hoping they would agree, but they aren’t the type of clients I can push. It’s not a
no,
it’s just a
not
tomorrow.
I promise the second they agree to letting the Lowes see their house, I’ll call you, no matter the time.”

I want to shake my phone and demand that Kevin shake his clients. Instead, I drop my forehead onto my hand. “Okay, thanks for calling and updating me.”

“No problem,” Kevin says. “We’ll talk soon. Promise.”

“Bye.” I hang up the phone. “Fuck!”

“Language!” Liv exclaims jokingly.

I glance up, finding her hovering over my desk. She gives me a huge, classic Liv smile that usually makes me feel better. It doesn’t even come close to improving my mood tonight. “Sorry.”

Her smile slowly fades. “I take it things with the Lowes aren’t going well?”

“Kevin’s clients aren’t budging and I’ve got nothing else to show them right now.” Because I knew better than to show Jenny a house that didn’t have
everything
on her wish list. Hell, I’d already shown her houses that
had
everything on it and she still hated them.

“You’ve had difficult clients before,” Liv says, clearly reading my thoughts, and being her cheerleader self. “You’ve got this.”

I pause and collect myself. “You’re right. I’ve got this.” I run a hand over my eyes, suddenly feeling tired. “Ugh. It got late so fast. Go home. There’s no point in both of us sitting here looking through houses.”

“You sure?”

I drop my hand and smile. “Yup. I’ll be on my way soon, too.” I hate working late. Or if I
must,
I try to do it from home. Then I don’t feel like I’m working all the time.

Liv steps away from my desk. “Okay, only if you’re sure.”

“Yup, I’m sure.”

She gathers her things at her desk and then blows me a kiss before leaving our office.

Before I go, and to ensure I don’t think about the Lowes when I get home, I draw in a huge deep breath, shedding any tension in my voice, and pick up the phone again, dialing Jenny’s cellphone.

“Hello,” she answers.

“Hi, Jenny, this is Allie from Holt.” I use my happiest tone. “I was wondering when you were next available for some more showings?” If I had nothing that perfectly fit her requirements, I’d at least show her a couple of the nicest houses I could find. Because showing something is better than showing nothing at all.

“Actually, Peter and I are going away this weekend to the Hamptons. We won’t be back until Monday.”

Score for me! “Sounds lovely,” I reply. “Leave this with me for the weekend then and I’ll find some more listings to show you on Monday morning. Does that work?”

“Yes, that’s great. Goodbye, Allie.”

“Bye.” I hang up the phone, flop back into my chair, and close my eyes, thanking the real estate gods. A couple more days to either let Kevin’s house pan out or to find something else spectacular is precisely what I need. The waiting game in real estate is the most stressful part, especially when dealing with people who have no patience. Luckily, I have lots, so usually things balance out okay.

“Sleeping on the job? I should fire you.”

I smile at the low voice filling my office, partly because I
love
the way Micah’s voice is almost caressing me with its rich vibrato. “I’m too important to fire,” I muse.

“Now,
that
I won’t argue with.”

I lift my head and reopen my eyes to him, suddenly well aware by the raising of the hairs on my arms and the flutter in my belly that we are very much alone at Holt tonight. I’m not even sure if it’s how he’s looking at me now in his commanding way, or if it’s only in my mind, but he seems decided about something. It’s like he’s decided about me. If I’m being honest, after today, I feel more decided about him, too.

He leans against the doorframe, watching me carefully. “Another rough night, Miss Parker?”

I kinda hate how easily he reads me. It makes me feel like an open book. Though I know that also comes from being a savvy businessman. Reading people well is what makes him good at what he does.

I want to reply:
My first deal with Holt is going to shit. I have a spoiled-rotten client who has no idea what she wants. All she knows is she wants a house better than her friends’.
Instead, I tell him, “You could say that.”

“Is Jenny becoming a problem for you?” he asks seriously, and I get the feeling if I say
yes,
he’ll intervene and fix the issue.

Not something I want.

“No, of course not,” I lie breezily. “The market is slow, so it’s been a frustrating week.”

The pinch of his brow is fading away, my answer seemingly appeasing him, and a devilish grin rises to his face. “I spent a good couple of hours at the gym today working off some frustration myself.”

“I could use a punching bag right now.” I power off my computer. Now that I have more time to find the Lowes a house, I’m getting the hell outta here. Slippers, a hot bath, and reality shows fill my mind with delightful promises of a relaxing night.

When I glance at Micah again, there’s a new twinkle in his eyes. Even his voice lowers a little when he adds, “I bet I could remove your frustration faster than any punching bag.”

I rise from my seat and push my chair under my desk. “Sure you could.”

“You don’t think so?”

I freeze at the way his voice dips even lower now. I’m not sure why in the hell I’m baiting him. I should shut my mouth and say nothing, but I’m so damn tired of fighting this and fighting him. A little harmless flirting didn’t hurt anyone, right? “Unless you’re going to let me punch you in the face, then no, I don’t think so.”

His grin is so haughty it should have me shutting this down
now.
But then I look into his eyes and the game is over. Earlier I lost all my judgments about him. Apparently, with my
assumptions
about him gone, I also lost the final shields I had up against him. Those eyes…that voice…those lips…that
body,
my nipples pucker beneath my blouse so quickly my breath is
gone,
heat is spiraling and pooling low in my body, making me wet, just that easily.

One brow arches. “Now,
that
sounds like a dare.”

I stay silent, not sure I can get proper words out. Because now I realize something that I should’ve thought about when I started this conversation. Flirting with a normal guy is harmless. Flirting with Micah is a dangerous game, because not only does he know how to flirt back, he’s confident enough to take that flirting and see it through to the end.

I discover he’s taking my silence as acceptance of his dare, because he’s entering my office and locking the door behind him. I should be saying
no,
but I’m not, and we both know that I won’t. Not anymore. Because I want him as much as he wants me, and the arch of his mouth tells me he knows it, too.

My mouth waters and my belly quivers when he clicks the button on the panel by the door and the blinds begin automatically shutting around us, except for at my back, where the skyline is glowing bright in the night. With each step he takes toward me, my breath hitches; my heartbeat hammering in my ears. He says nothing and I say nothing, as he moves right into my space until my back is flat against the glass; both his hands pressed next to my head.

No one can see inside my office anymore, the blinds are completely shut, but I’m more focused on Micah and the way his woodsy citrusy scent circles in the air around me. My skin is flushing with an unnatural heat, and by the time he presses the strength of his body against mine, I’m shaking in a way that I can’t control. I want him to deliver on the promises he’s been silently giving me since we met.

When he lifts his hand to my face, dragging his fingers along my cheek, I nearly open my mouth to beg him to fix this ache inside of me. To somehow make me
me
again, where everything makes sense, and where I’m not a woman so consumed with lust that logic leaves my mind.

He presses the long length of his erection against my stomach, making me so damn needy to feel every inch of him, then he pins me between him and the glass, holding me still. I’m not even thinking about if this is wrong anymore, all I know is the way he’s looking at me and how
right
he feels. Beneath his strong stare, I see a man hungry to devour me, and I want him, too. Desperately.

He grips my chin, those assessing eyes watching me carefully, as he slides his thumb across my bottom lip before addressing me again. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

I should. I know that. But there isn’t a damn thing inside of me that’s thinking with logic. “Don’t stop.”

Then his lips are on mine, and he becomes
everything.

There is no time. There is no thought. There is only the way he expertly kisses me, driving me higher, until my knees weaken. His kiss is slow at first and deliberately builds with each swipe of his mouth against mine. He’s nibbling my lips, sucking on my tongue, and I’m lost in how perfect I feel beneath his hands. I begin rubbing my stomach against his erection, tempting him to deliver on all those dark promises.

He slides a hand across my face to the back of my head, where he tangles his fingers into my hair, locking me where he wants me, which is exactly where I want to be. A flare of heat descends through my body and I shiver, feeling his other hand begin traveling up my thigh. I widen my legs, knowing where he’s going and wanting him to shamelessly go there. His gravelly chuckle brushes against my mouth, but I still can’t open my eyes. I’m lost, completely unraveling in the way his hands hold me, control me, own me.

Each second feels like a minute long as he takes his time inching my skirt up to below my buttocks. I’m aware that I’m against a window. That by some chance anyone in the high-rise next to ours, who’s looking through binoculars, might see me. But those thoughts don’t shut me down, they wake me up.

He
wakes me up.

He
makes me feel alive.

His fingers slide against my inner thigh, slowly, tenderly, appreciatively, and his kiss turns more urgent. I don’t know my body anymore. I’m reacting to him like I’m a puppet and he’s holding the strings. Each touch, each slow swirl of a finger, each time he stops, each time he moves again, it’s all a way to tease me and to steal my mind, placing my soul totally in
his
hands.

By the time he tucks his fingers beneath my panties, sliding them aside, I’m a quivering mess that can hardly even kiss him anymore. My lips are parted and I’m panting, while he’s nibbling and licking my mouth where he wants, taking me how he wants, yet giving to me also. The cool air brushes my hot, slick flesh as he strokes the tip of his finger against my slit.

“So wet, Allie,” he murmurs, stroking me again and again. “So fucking perfect.”

I want to respond.

I can’t.

My legs are quivering as he stops kissing me, his lips resting on mine, our breaths brushing across each other. The tip of his finger works its way over my silky arousal, bringing all that warm wetness up in my sex, where he begins circling my clit with the lightest touch. My hands somehow find his arms, and I’m feeling his muscles flex, as his finger is moving faster, swirling harder. I move to lean my head back, when he nips my bottom lip. “Don’t move, love.” He slowly licks where he bit, soothing away the pain. “Stay still for me.”

His fingers tighten in my hair and my mind silences, wanting to let go. I moan loudly and then I can’t stop, as he begins pressing harder on my bundle of nerves, working his finger from side to side—not fast and out of control, but focused and intent. Pleasure is sweeping like liquid fire through my veins. I’m gasping for air, shamelessly grinding myself against his hand.

“Christ, you’re a sexy little thing,” he declares, fisting his hand in my hair, pulling on the strands.

Then there is no me and him anymore. There is only the purest sensation sizzling through my body as his fingers do a spectacular dance across my clit, moving fast, and faster yet, as each second passes, sending me flying high.

I know nothing until I know sheer satisfaction, and even after my mind returns to the present, it takes a few minutes to feel my body fully again. I can’t even open my eyes. My body is humming in glory. My frustration
is
gone.

His lips find mine in the softest, sweetest kiss that is so contradictory to the man himself. It’s exactly what I need, and I don’t want him to ever stop, melting right into him until he whispers across my mouth, “Good night, Allie.”

I have one second to look at him, seeing the coiled power he’s containing before he’s gone. I slide down the window, a panting, satisfied mess. “Oh, my God…”