Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (30 page)

Carefully, he towed her closer, narrowing the separation between them, and folded himself against her shoulder like he was seeking out her forgiveness. 

“Even when I was engaged, I only ever thought of you,” he confessed, exhaling his burden into her neck as she consoled him, running her fingertips through his hair.  It was, perhaps, his most shameful secret—using Marlow as his sexual surrogate to enact his forbidden fantasies for Isabel.  Beneath the superficial emptiness of their relationship and the depths of his imagination, Marlow’s height and stature, the length and color of her hair, the clothes he bought her to wear, all served as reminders of Isabel.  Even her perfume—misty rain with a hint of lavender—was a fragrance that Phillip deliberately purchased for Marlow to mimic Isabel’s scent.   It had been an oppressive sin, one that filled him with bitterness and threatened to destroy his pride as a man and the integrity of his soul unless he called off their engagement and ended his fraud. 

He had ended it, painfully, mercilessly, abandoning Marlow like a fragile snowflake caught up in the cruel winds of winter.  It had been dishonorable and selfish, and he took full responsibility for perpetuating the myth of their engagement when she confronted him with the truth of what she had begun to suspect—that she was merely a proxy for the real woman who he craved with every thought and desire, but who he feared would never receive him in the way he yearned for like an intolerable temptation. 

Now, he closed his eyes and heaved a sigh—an emotional release of all the fear and heartache that had weighed on his every glance and gesture like punishing chains. 
The tenderness of her body
. 
The warmth of her breath
. 
The supple curves of her breasts pressing against his heart
. 
Her acceptance
.  He had always been the one in control, forcing her surrender.  But in that moment, it was she who was the one in control of liberating him.

She gently stroked his hair, as though she was absolving him of years of internal deception.  He met her gaze, restraining his instinct to overpower her as a means of asserting his masculine pride. 
He had done that so many times before
…Now, he wanted nothing more than to prove to her that he was finally willing to submit himself openly, honestly, because it was she who was the only person in the world who knew him—truly knew him—and still accepted him despite all his flaws and all his mistakes. 

He concentrated on the sensation of her hands following the curve of his pecs.  Fixing her dark eyes on him—those beautiful Spanish eyes—she sensed his deference to her lead, as though she was taking in the vulnerability of the new man who stood before her.  She clasped the edges of her T-shirt and towed it over her elbows and head, revealing her bare chest in the moonlight.  There was no bra or corset to escalate his forbidden fantasy.  There were only the natural contours of her breasts and the acceleration of her breath.  He held her gaze—a gesture of honor—and reached out to her, drawing down her ponytail and catching the familiar scent of shampoo in her long hair.  She guided his hand over her heart, allowing him to massage her.  He exhaled with force—and act of restraint.  During their previous nights of passion, he had dominated her like a vixen, suckling her tits as an expression of his insatiable desire.  But now, everything was different as he watched her fully accepting his caresses, her steady gaze matching his own, granting him a boundless view into the depths of her soul—and everything about her that she was willing to offer him.

She loosened the buckle of his belt and tugged it through its loop holes before dropping it onto the floor like a clanking chain.  He felt the tug of his zipper, drawing downwards across his throbbing erection.  He clenched his jaw, enduring his swelling desires as her fingers grazed against it.  Cautiously, she grasped the silk fabric of his dress pants and towed them downwards, the sensual tickle of her nipples passing across his erection as she lowered herself and removed each pant leg.  Then, he felt it—her lips deliberately kissing the tip of his cock, bulging through his boxers, before she drew them down, exposing his hard cock completely. He exhaled through his nostrils and touched her hair, guarding his primal instincts and refraining from guiding her to take in more.  Tonight wasn’t about her pleasuring him.  It was about him surrendering every aspect of his pride and masculinity to her, allowing her to accept them on her terms and in her own way.

She rose up and peered into his eyes.  The serenity of the moonlight captured their unspoken exchange.  Like an offering, she drew down her yoga pants and white cotton panties, matching his nakedness.  There, face-to-face, she permitted him a long, lingering view of her body.  During their sessions of passion, consumed by their charades and shrouded in darkness, it was a luxury he had not even granted himself; now, he was certain she was the most beautiful, authentic thing he had ever seen.  He pushed forward and kissed the edges of her athletic shoulders. 
Always asserting her independence
.  His fingertips drifted across the soft curve of her midriff. 
The sacrifice of being a mother
.  His hands passed along the smooth contours of her backside. 
The femininity of being a woman
.

He heard her sigh, savoring his touch.  He had admired her physical beauty a thousand times before, but always at a distance—from across his desk, across the dinner table, across the seats of his car—never like this, never completely naked and vulnerable with the assurance that he would be accepted by her.  Finally, like a silent answer to his petitioning gaze, he felt her full consent as she rotated her pelvis towards him, allowing his firm cock to brush against her bare pubic bone and test her willingness for more.  He buried his hot breath into the sensitive crook of her collarbone and kissed its tenderness with all his strength.  He could feel her relinquishing her defenses, accepting his need to devour her with every nip.  He feathered his lips up her throat, stopping short of covering her mouth with his own.  He had not indulged in her kiss since their final night together in the mansion—but that was a moment of intimacy cloaked within the darkness.  Now, he gazed into her shining eyes, confirming not only her desire for him in that moment, but the sincerity of her desire to be more to him than just his assistant all along.

He held her cheek and nudged her for a kiss, softly, gently.  She accepted him, sweet and forgiving, as her velvet tongue entangled with his own, fueling his need to surge inside her.
How different she felt
…different than all their previous nights together when every touch and gesture served to lure her into his maze of seduction.  Tonight, there was no undercurrent of apprehension holding her back from fully accepting his pleasuring mouth and massaging hands.  There was only her willingness to share herself with him.  She shuddered with anticipation as he sucked her nipples and cupped her backside.  She exhaled as he ran his mouth along her throat, lapping her with his tongue, coaxing the rotation of her pelvis into his burning cock. 

There, yes…
He released a sigh, feeling her wetness, inviting him into her.  Swiftly, he whisked her up into his arms and spread her across the bed, smothering her nakedness under his weight and edging his cock between her thighs.  She raised her chin and gasped, pushing back on his imminent breach.  But he tamed her, passing his hand under her hair, clenching it with a delicate balance between possession and tenderness, asserting his desire to pleasure her.  His fingers slipped around her backside and stroked her slit; she gushed her consent like a gift and relaxed into his embrace.  He secured her body into his arms, exhaling hushes of comfort into her ear before initiating his first penetration. 

Yeeesss…

They traded groans and quivers of relief as he pushed past the friction and held himself steady inside her. 
God, how often he yearned to feel her body like this...
The softness of her breasts and midriff, the caress of her fingertips along the nape of his neck, the warmth of her breath against his shoulder, the slickness of her arousal against his throbbing cock.  Every part of her sensuality cured his isolation and soothed his bitterness.  Within the darkness of the mansion, he had pushed into her with unyielding desire, determined to release his unbearable repression through his sexual conquest of her.  But now, within the intimacy of her own bed, he savored their connection, gazing at her with the full intensity of his soul.  He was no longer her billionaire boss; he was only a man willing to make love to her.

“I need you more than you can ever know...” he whispered.

“You have always had me.”

He entangled her hand and drew it over her head, delving his lips over her tits, stimulating her with the heat and suction of his mouth.  He ground his pubic bone against her clit, watching her expression slacken as a sparking wave of arousal simmered up between them. He kissed her mouth with worship; their tongues melded together like their exchanging breaths.  Bracing her backside, he shifted himself deeper; she moaned, an invitation for more.  He thumbed her clit, heightening her arousal while accelerating his pace and calmed her fragile sighs with whispers of adoration.  Her tongue swept into his ear, yearning for him to complete her.

He accelerated his pace. 
Harder, faster, deeper
.  She shut her eyes and tilted back her head, seeking relief from his plunging cock.  Her first shudder made her cry out for restraint.  He relented and hushed her with affection, absorbing her heat and slickness as ripples of satisfaction ebbed and flowed between them.  He cradled her head and petitioned for her consent for more. 

Now…?

Yeesss…
She nodded, digging her fingernails into his shoulder blades as he pushed deeper, uniting them like familiar lovers. 
How many nights had he longed to unify them like this…
She was no longer simply his sinful temptation; she was his companion. 
How many times had she looked at him and made him feel like the man he wanted to be
?  Every day she had unknowingly challenged him at every turn with her own honesty—a sincerity that weakened his icy facade as her stern boss and slowly revealed an imprisoned man, struggling to accept the feelings of vulnerability and fondness she inspired within him. 

She gasped, releasing her second shudder as his rhythm intensified, mimicking the coursing pulse beating within his heart.  She quivered with every tremor, yielding herself to the escalating vibrations he produced with every thrust.  He buried his exhale into her ear as his own climax threatened to surge beyond his ability to contain it.  But he wanted to wait for her; he wanted to complete her.

He drew her up from the bed, straddling her over his lap and wrapping her legs around his waist like a hug, and replaced his cock with his fingers.  He slipped past her wetness, fingering her deeply, building her up with fierce palpitating strokes that aimed to satisfy her very core.  Her head dropped back with a silent exhale as she relinquished herself to him through her unconditional trust. 
Trust
.  It was a gift that he did not take for granted.

Yes, that’s it…

He encouraged her with every beating stroke and ceased only to shift her off his lap and lower his lips down to taste her.  His tongue flicked her with precision, unleashing a heaving sigh of satisfaction that he had come to know so well.

She was ready for him
.

Slowly, he laid her down across the bed, enveloping her body with all his strength.  She exhaled, embracing his chest as he united them with his burning desire to make her come.  He drove deeper, muting her moans with his consuming kisses and trading breaths like they were sharing each other’s deepest secrets.  When he pulled away, he felt her staccato panting against his ear like a rhythmic chant for
more, more, more...
He cupped her backside and spread her wider, thrusting himself into her with the full force of his masculinity until it was too much for him to bear.  He groaned, exerting his own need to surge within her, and rode them together towards a shuddering seizure of relief that radiated throughout their bodies and ended with her unbridled release.  He braced her torso, absorbing her climax while simultaneously coursing inside her, his warmth and wetness mimicking her own until she fell forward against him.  Her head and arms draped over his shoulders for support.  He would always support her—no matter what. 

I’ve fallen in love with you, Isabel
.

The sentiment escaped from his heart as he guided her down onto the bed and molded their bodies together like two souls entwining into one.  Every moment of every day, she had made him yearn to express his emotions of affection and adoration—emotions that only she inspired in him.  Now, everything had been released, and he was left with only one certainty that consoled his mind and fulfilled his core—
she completed him
. 

Chapter Seventeen

Isabel rolled over in her bed, roused by the rays of sunlight across her face.  She squinted and shielded her eyes with her hand until she could focus on Phillip’s gaze glinting at her and register the fact that he had been watching her in her sleep.

“Good morning,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, waking up next to his former assistant in her own bed.

“How long have you been awake?” She drew the sheet over her naked body, absorbing the reality of what they had shared last night.

“Over an hour.”  He shrugged without apology.  “I wanted to see if you were a snoozer or a drooler—or both.”  He snaked towards her, attempting to wrap his arms around her waist.

“Neither.”  She nudged him away, feigning offense.  He smirked and towed her into his possession, whispering a kiss behind her ear.

“Neither,” he agreed. “You’re perfect…even when you’re asleep.”

“You’ll soon learn that’s not true either.”

“I can’t wait,” he mused, locking her into his strong arms and pulling her down against the pillows.

“Phillip—” She faintly resisted him as he fluttered his lips down her throat and across her breasts. “We have to be careful.  Aidan will be up any moment and he’ll come looking for me.”

He relented and flopped back against the mattress, flexing his bicep behind his head while tracking her escape from the bed.  She quickly slipped on her T-shirt and white panties, sensing how his eyes tracked her every movement like so many times before.  But this time, she silently admitted to herself how much she secretly enjoyed it.  So many times during their business meetings, she had noted to herself how attractive he looked in his tailored European suits without ever granting herself the permission to indulge in the thought of more.  Now, as she slipped on her yoga pants and tied up her hair, she glanced back at his sculpted shoulders and smooth chest, unable to ignore the vision of him—naked and relaxed—beneath the sheets of her own bed. 
Her boss—Phillip Spears
.  It was one of the most natural and surreal things in the world.  Last night, he had offered himself to her with such tenderness that it was impossible to resist resolving the tension between them.  And when he touched her…
God, how he touched her…
lowering all her defenses and dissolving all the fear within her heart before penetrating her in a way that made her believe every expression of his devotion had been true.

But love?
 

She barely dared to repeat the word in her mind.  It had been a long time since Isabel had been in love—an experience that ended in the birth of her son and the devastation of her heart. 
Was she ready to open herself up to being loved again?
  What was certain was that she no longer could deny her feelings for the man who had offered her sanctuary when she needed it most.  The man she had spent time with almost every day for the past five years.  The man she had grown to know and respect more than anyone else in her life.

“It’s a shame it’s ending already,” he said, noting how quickly she had dressed, transforming herself into the presentable mother he knew she had to be.

“It’s not just me,” she countered, eyeing the way he leisurely reclined in her bed. “It’s a work day for you as well.”

“Except I’ve lost my best, most desirable employee,” Phillip replied. “You clearly have no idea how seeing you every morning served as my own personal motivation to come into the office.”

His despondent gaze fixed on her, offering up his personal distress that only she could pacify.  She sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her fingers through his tousled hair.  His candid expressions of dependence disarmed her. 
He seemed like such a different man now
. The phantom nips along her flesh and the burn between her legs were the physical reminders of his willingness to prove himself to her, but it was the way that he wrapped his arms around her waist and watched her—watching him—that made her feel like she had discovered a new uninhibited man beneath the formerly stern, cautious one. 

“And now, this morning, I have the distinct pleasure of seeing you without going into the office, which is why it’s such a pity that it’s ending already.”  He leaned in closer, nudging her for a sensual kiss within the security of his protective embrace.
She could no longer resist him—any part of him
.  His desire would be forever seared within her.  She kissed him back, reliving the sensations of how deeply he drove inside her with his need to claim her heart. 

“Isabel—”

She heard her name called out beyond her bedroom door. 
Her mother
.  Mrs. Alvarez abruptly whisked it open and entered the room like it was her own.

Halting in the doorway, she frowned at her daughter—and her daughter’s half-naked guest.

“Good morning, mother,” Isabel said, rising from the bed and adjusting her pony tail.

An unforgiving ray of sunlight fell across the lovers like a jailhouse spotlight.  Mrs. Alvarez’s silent disapproval seethed through the deep creases along her furrowed brow.  She moved like a maid to the window, unclasping the knots of the shades and diffusing the sunlight through the sheer curtains, cutting off the harsh reflection along Phillip’s smooth bare chest.

“Good morning, Mrs. Alvarez.”  He nodded, perfectly pronouncing her last name with its proper Castilian accent.

Mrs. Alvarez arched her eyebrow, surveying the full scene of their debauchery.

He peered at her with a mischievous glint in his eye, like a rebellious teenager who almost enjoyed being caught in the act.

“Aidan is downstairs with me,” Mrs. Alvarez said slowly.  “We are making pancakes.  I will tell him that you will be down…shortly.”

She shifted her censure onto her daughter, who deflected it with her own glare.  Mrs. Alvarez exhaled through her flaring nostrils, as though she had seen everything she needed to make her ultimate judgment.  Then, with a ferocious slam, she shut the door behind her like an unmistakable message.

Isabel slunk onto the edge of the bed and held her head. “She makes me feel like a teenager in my own home.”

“That sounds sinfully devious,” Phillip quipped and kissed her behind her ear.

“It’s been this way ever since I dropped out of college, pregnant with Aidan.  It doesn’t matter that since then, I’ve given her a beautiful grandson, a wonderful home, and a life free of the physical hardships that she endured when she was cleaning houses.  It only matters that I somehow continue to disappoint her.”

He gently traced his finger around her elbow and along the curve of her wrist before embracing her hand into his own.

“Isabel, they are our parents.  They are hard on us because they have come to realize—like we have—that they have very little control over our lives, including who we choose to become and what we ultimately achieve…and that lack of control terrifies them.”

Isabel stopped and reflected on the fact that Phillip had attended the funeral of his own mother not less than a year ago.  She knew very little about Phillip’s relationship with his mother, but when he had returned from England after her death, she sensed that he had buried a part of himself there with her.

“It’s just that I don’t want that for Aidan.  I want him to know that I’ll always support him in whatever he wants to do or be—no matter what.”

Skeptical, Phillip narrowed his eyes at her. “Isabel, your son is four going on five.  I will be sure to remind you of those precise words when he is fourteen going on fifteen, and he arrives home with an ear piercing through his nose and the name of his girlfriend tattooed across his buttocks.”

Isabel crossed her arms and shifted away.  He laughed and embraced her with all his strength. 

“You’re going to be around ten years from now to remind me of that?” she tossed back.

“Yes,” he answered with quiet conviction.

Isabel stared into his sparkling eyes and noted the way he cradled her with certainty. “Well, we’ll have to see about that,” she replied dryly, testing him and her own expectations for their future—together.

But he knew her now; she needed his unguarded expression of commitment as much as he needed her acceptance of it.  He locked her in his arms, unwilling to let her go.  “I always love a good challenge.” He peered deeply into her eyes in a way that conveyed he had all the time in the world and desired nothing more than the honor of spending it with her.

“Come on, now…let’s go get some pancakes.”

* * * *

Everyone sat around the kitchen table in silence, except Aidan, who was thrilled at the idea that Phillip had spent the night in the end.

“Nica… Mommy said Phillip wasn’t going to sleep over, but he did.  Did you sleep in the astronaut sleeping bag or the green alligator one?” he asked Phillip.

Phillip raised his eyebrow at Isabel. “You didn’t tell me I had a choice between astronauts and alligators?”

Mrs. Alvarez clanked her coffee mug down onto the table.  Isabel glanced down at it.  She knew Phillip wasn’t used to her mother’s silent wrath and her mother wasn’t used to Phillip’s dry British humor. 

“And guess what else, Nica?” Aidan slurred, his mouth stuffed with pancake. “Phillip fought
three
tigers…Show her your scar.”

Aidan tugged on Phillip’s shirt sleeve.  Isabel watched her mother’s eyes scanning over his half-unbuttoned shirt and wrinkled dress pants—clearly taking in the fact that they were the same clothes he wore from the day before.  She shifted her gaze to Phillip, who seemed unfazed by her scrutiny.  Instead, he looked relaxed and content.  He crossed his legs and wagged his socked foot while sipping from his coffee mug like his presence at the table was the most normal thing in the world.

“Aidan, I’m certain your grandmother prefers that I not remove any more of my clothes.”

Isabel nearly sprayed out coffee through her nose.

Mrs. Alvarez narrowed her scornful black eyes and crossed her arms. “Mr. Spears, I know that you are a very important man, and I’m sure you are used to inventing many grand stories to impress all your important wealthy friends.  But here, in this house, I much prefer that you not tell lies to my grandson.”

“Mother—” Isabel sniped back, but it was too late.  Mrs. Alvarez’s icy comment settled upon the table like a sudden frost.

“It’s not a lie, Nica,” Aidan insisted, tugging again on Phillip’s sleeve.  “Show her, show her…”

Phillip reluctantly set down his fork and rolled up his cuff.  Isabel looked away—an entire chunk of his forearm had been sheared off, leaving a jagged absence of flesh, deeply gnarled and unnaturally pink. 

Mrs. Alvarez, on the other hand, stared at it without emotion. “Tiger,” she mocked under her breath. “To me, it looks more like a motorcycle accident.”

“Boating,” he clarified respectfully.

“Tiger,” she huffed, snorting through her nose. “Increíble.”

“Mother,” Isabel insisted again, but Phillip silenced her with his gaze.

“Your grandmother is right, Aidan,” he suddenly announced. “I shouldn’t tell you lies. I received this scar not from a tiger, but while working on a fishing boat when I was just a little bit older than you.  My family didn’t have a lot of money, and so I went to work at the docks where I sailed on ships to earn my worth.”

Aidan’s green eyes opened wide.  “You sailed on boats?  Like a pirate?”

“Yes, in some ways…yes.” Phillip nodded, glancing at Mrs. Alvarez, as if he was preparing for her to challenge him again. “Like a pirate, I sailed far away from home for weeks and weeks at a time, often with very little to eat or drink except stale bread and canned jams.  One day, there was a storm—a fierce and terrible storm—and I was thrown overboard.  I didn’t know how to swim and I still don’t.  I remember swallowing more water than a whale until—by the grace of God—I felt the slap of the life preserver hit my shoulder.  It bounced far away from me, but somehow, I managed to wind its cord around my arm, just before I fell unconscious.” Phillip glanced down at his scar.  “The scar you see here is from the rope that towed me back to the boat and saved my life.”

Isabel stared at Phillip.  She had never heard anything about his past except the fact that he had graduated from Harvard Business School—the same year as Jett.  Sometimes she
had
noticed small details about him—the way he preferred that she always help him with his tuxedo bow tie, or the way he used his steak knife like a crude saw, or the fact that he never sent uneaten food away from the table—that made her suspect that he came from a working-class family rather than an affluent life of leisure and luxury.  But she never dared to inquire about his upbringing, and Phillip never dared to betray anything about his past—until now.

Phillip lifted up a napkin and carefully folded it into an origami boat, setting the gift in front of Aidan.  “So you see, we all have secrets and stories to share...even us billionaires.”

“Awesome!” Aidan grabbed the boat and held it like a prize. “Can I learn how to be a pirate, too?”

“Yes, perhaps someday you can sail on ships far, far away.  But first, you need to learn how to swim.”  He dotted Aidan’s nose with his fingertip.