Irresistible (Underneath it All Series: Book One) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (2 page)

“Well, I’m not doing it for the money,” I quipped.

I had a feeling under different circumstances she would have booed my attempt at a joke, but she just narrowed her eyes instead.

All jokes aside, I wanted to make something very clear. “Whether compensation is exchanged or not, I don’t make a habit of sleeping with women that are faking it.”

That drew a laugh from her, and the sound made the tightness in my throat return with a vengeance. I wish I could have blamed the discomfort on awkwardness, but the truth was, the sound that came out of her lips was a sound I knew I’d never grow tired of.

“And how would you know if a woman is faking it?” she asked, her shoulders still trembling with laughter.

I’d decided I’d make her beg for it when I’d first entered the room, but now, I just couldn’t resist.

I had to touch her.

She held her breath, but she didn’t pull away as I climbed onto the bed. I grazed her collarbone with my fingertips, just barely touching her skin as I stared deep into her eyes.

She released her breath, her whole body shuddering as she broke eye contact. The pink in her cheeks darkened until it matched her hair. She meant to clear her throat, but the sound came out as a cough instead.

I removed my hand reluctantly and if I’d poured myself a drink earlier, I would have chalked the brief flash of longing in her eyes to alcohol. The truth was, I was cold sober and I’d just received confirmation that whatever chemistry existed between the two of us wasn’t in my head.

I answered her question as I started unbuttoning my shirt. “I just know.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulders, the locks curling and falling to her waist. “Mighty confident, huh?”

“Not confident.” Not true, but only a cocky S.O.B. would answer yes. “I’m just
very
good.” So good that try as she might to seem so unaffected, I caught her watching me toy with a button.

On purpose, of course.

She lurched forward impatiently and undid it for me. By the time our close proximity dawned on her, we were practically skin to skin. A selfish part of me prayed that she wouldn’t put her armor back on when I’d finally snuck past her defenses.

And then she started helping me take off my shirt.

And it felt good.

Damn
good.

And right.

But not what I wanted...and certainly not what she needed.

I circled her wrists, engulfing her soft hands in my strong ones.

“Not tonight,” I shook my head softly and felt my dark hair sweep across my forehead. Her eyes caught it too, and I wondered what thoughts skated through her mind. Did she want to run her fingertips through my hair? Push it back? Grab a fistful of it and yank my mouth to hers?

Tough, because I had other plans.

“I’m sure you’re used to calling the shots, Red, but tonight, I’m directing this scene.”

Red
. The nickname rolled off my tongue like we weren’t at The Tower. Like we’d known each other for years, not fifteen minutes. Her eyes bulged too and I felt like I was completely naked, like she’d just read my mind.

The next move was hers. Would she snatch her hand away and tell me this was her show? The odds were not in my favor, and the look on her face told me she was still trying to decide herself. We were locked in a staring contest, a battle of wits that was as terse as anything I’d experienced in a boardroom.

She balled the hand in my grip into a fist and I locked my jaw.
So she wants to punch me. Not exactly what I was going for.
But the more I gazed at the strong lines of her face, the more I saw something familiar. She was a fighter. This woman wasn’t like the other women I’d crossed paths with since I became Jackson Colt. Women who were drawn to the wealth and power that came with being in my orbit. She didn’t take handouts, and she didn’t bow down to anyone.

Just when I prepared myself to release her, she gently pulled her hand toward her. She rested both palms on the bedspread then inhaled all the air in the room. Her eyes drifted closed, and I swallowed hard, realizing that she’d just taken away the one tool that I had at my disposal.

Her eyes gave her away.

She exhaled a sigh that whispered across my body and gave me the slightest flicker of hope. It wasn’t a disgusted thing, or a patronizing sound that would be followed by a shrug.

She bit her lip. “Okay.”

I almost let out a whoop of delight, but I didn’t want to risk her rethinking her choice, so I celebrated my victory in silence. I wanted to tear off my clothing and rip her lingerie to shreds. I wanted to fill her warmth until she clawed my back to ribbons. But that would be too easy. That would be like every other encounter I’d had at The Tower, and something told me that tonight could be a night unlike any other.

“Lay back on the bed.” It wasn’t a command, or order. Domination wasn’t on the menu tonight...pleasure was.

Her brow furrowed in surprise.

Good. Surprise was good. I wanted to keep her guessing.

She murmured something to herself, but she acquiesced, walking her hands backward. Not in any hurry. She took her time, teasing me with how the dark fabric stroked her skin. She fell back against the pillows and pointedly kept her knees pressed together.

Lust already had me by the balls and when I saw the devious smile on her lips, keeping my breathing steady became a problem, too.

“Open your legs,” I growled, holding back the urge to grin at her delicious playfulness. The real her behind the barbed wire.

She walked her fingertips to the peaks of her knees and slowly parted her thighs.

My pulse raced as the glimpse of her body became a full-on display and I couldn’t stop the moan from falling from my lips. The warmth radiated from her core, the gentle folds of her pussy sighing as she spread her thighs apart. If there had been any doubt whether our introductions had been foreplay for her too, I had my answer. She glistened with arousal. She was dripping wet and I’d barely touched her.

Forgetting myself, forgetting control, I stroked her beauty with my thumb. She crooned when I flicked her clit with my finger, her body arching into me. Her movements sobered me and I paused long enough to bring my thumb to my mouth.

My second moan came from deep inside me, a vocalization of all my desire come to fruition. She tasted delicious. Sweet, with a naughty bite that I savored with my eyes closed.

I wanted more than a bite.

I wanted it all.

I didn’t say another word...I
feasted
.

I pushed her thighs wider and buried my mouth inside her. I tasted her moans, her essence, her lust as she grabbed tufts of my hair and pulled me deeper into her. We were both in need, both starved. Her moans were like my own private concert, and I had the best seats in the house. I felt every twitch, every quiver, every flutter that ripped through her body and exploded when it reached her center.

There was no warning besides the uncontrollable vibrations of her thighs when she came. Even in the midst of the way she begged and whimpered as her climax took her under, I knew I’d only grazed the surface. And as hard as I was, primed and ready to fill her wetness with my cock, I didn’t indulge. I pulled myself from heaven, with plans to make her wonder and long for our next session.

She was silent again as I strode to the bathroom. Still high off her, I managed to make myself presentable, but I didn’t wash away her scent. When I emerged, she was back on her feet with a sheet wrapped around her body. Flushed and back at the bedpost?”

“We’re done?”

The question had sharp edges that went right through my chest. Against my better judgment, I went to her and pressed my lips against her forehead. It was too tender a moment. Too personal. That seemed like a ridiculous notion since a few minutes ago I had my tongue in the most personal place it could be. It wasn’t wise to get attached to her, but I couldn’t help but linger. She smelled like cinnamon and sex and I wanted to memorize every note of her so I could conjure it up later.

“That was just the beginning,” I replied softly.

I slipped out of the room as quietly as I’d entered, heading to the parking garage with a smile that wouldn’t go away.

~

I
t was a brand new day. A day where I'd crush one of the biggest pricks on the scene with a single swipe of a pen. There was a power, a delicious sense of victory when I gripped the cool sliver of metal and marched inside.

I didn’t need to check the pulse of the room because tension hung in the air, a suffocating fog that I’d helped along a bit by turning the heat up a few notches.

Okay, ten notches.

If you checked the system unit, it would read 84 degrees, just a few degrees shy of the temperature outside. To top it off, I chose the conference room that resembled a prison cell. No windows, no light, no furniture except chairs and a table. A table that was surrounded by sweaty, impatient men.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” I leveled the greeting at Joe Wright. At 6’4 and 220 pounds of muscle, he was a force to be reckoned with. It was easy to picture him kicking ass on a football field, and he was just as fearsome in a two-piece suit.

He gave me a look that told me he wasn’t glad I was running a few minutes late either. He adjusted his tie with a curt, ‘Morning’ that told me I’d be hearing about the lack of AC later, too. He was the only one that could give me a hard time and get away with it, and that’s how it had been since we were kids.

Lazarus Crowe, our guest of honor, made no efforts to hide his disgust. “It’s hotter than a whore in church, Colt.”

In most circumstances, referring to a man by their last name was a show of respect. When Lazarus said my name, disdain clutched the syllable that fell from his curled lips.

I didn’t take offense. The feeling was mutual.

The man was richer than God, but far from benevolent. I studied and analyzed his career trajectory back in business school. During his golden years, years of making billions, it seemed he had the Midas touch—and his greed. It was kind of ironic that he hadn’t been much older than I was now when his career took off, but we’d chosen different paths to achieve success. With his sparse, country-club blond hair, cold blue eyes, and teeth that glowed like diamonds, he was the spitting image of everything I hated about wealth. He reeked of entitlement.

Lazarus’s grandfather’s legacy led to his father’s, then the mantle was passed to Lazarus on his 25th birthday. His father’s advisors had railed against the move, but it ended up being the best business decision his father ever made. With Lazarus at the helm, profits shot to the stratosphere while he destroyed his competitors. The amount of good he could have done with his resources could have made him a success
and
a philanthropist, but there wasn’t an ounce of humanity in him. Lazarus was a man who laughed with his golf buddies at the fact that his acquisitions left people with next to nothing. He was used to making the world bend to his cruel whim. Used to sitting at the head of the table.

In
my
seat
, I thought grumpily. I kept the thought to myself and smiled, focusing on the sweat that glistened on his balding head. Considering I was taking possession of his company, I could let him borrow my chair for a few minutes.

"It is a bit warm in here, isn't it?" I walked to the corner of the room, where several room temperature bottles of Evian were stacked like soldiers. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have given the man a sip of water if he was dying of thirst, but I decided to make an exception. I picked up a couple of bottles and made my way back to the table. I extended the first to Lazarus, who didn't even acknowledge my gesture of kindness. He just wiped his brow and scowled.

I turned to his right-hand man, Art Whittaker. The complete opposite of his boss, Art's tall, scrappy frame was engulfed by his seat. He was sweating full-on buckets and looked ready to peel off every piece of clothing he wore. I saw the longing in his gaze. He was dying to have a bottle of water, room temperature or not. If he got permission from his King, of course.

Art twisted his head to the right, and Lazarus looked ready to wring his neck before he even uttered a sound.

Art didn't meet my eye. “I’m fine, thanks.”

"Hell, I'll take a bottle of water," Joe grumbled. He popped the cap and gulped it down. I had to bite back a grin when Art cut his eyes at Joe, his lips parting like he’d be fine with the tiniest drop. Lazarus must have caught the moment of weakness too, because he cleared his throat and Art snapped his mouth shut.

Art still wouldn’t look at me. It was hard to believe this was the same man that sneered on newscasts and shut down debates on the morality of their business practices with a shrug. Sensing my gaze on him, Art’s nostrils flared, and it hit me. I wasn't dropping a bomb on him at all. Somehow, he knew.

But not Lazarus. He wouldn't have come down from his tower if he knew said tower had a new owner. I'd thought knocking the man down a peg or two would have been satisfying, the little kid in me finally taking down the bully. I didn't need to make Lazarus pay. I didn't need to say the words. I didn't need to sit at the head of the table, because knowing that the man Lazarus trusted most was keeping secrets was reward enough.

I breezed to the table, perching a hand on the back of the chair with a sigh. “My apologies for the wait-”

“
Wait
being the key word," Lazarus sniped. His angry jowls shuddered with every word. “I'm sure your rock-and-roll lifestyle makes a hell of a tabloid story, but the rest of us work for a living.”

I couldn't resist getting a jab or two in. "It's a little early for jokes, don't you think, Laz? I mean, weren’t you just on TMZ with a woman who wasn’t your wife?”

Now it was Joe clearing his throat, reminding me to keep my eye on the prize.

“You little..."

I was ready for him to explode. I saw every profanity, every insult in the book flit across Lazarus’s angry face. Before he could let loose a tirade that would make a comedian blush, Art leaned in and murmured something that made the man purse his lips together. I watched in awe as a man not known for his anger management skills calmed down, drawing a few breaths and exhaling. I hoped it would keep the man from stroking out before I put him out of his misery.