The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) (21 page)

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I will admit that I had
ulterior motive in calling her over to my desk. Having her bend over my
computer screen gave me a chance to study the way her neck swooped into her
soft shoulders. When I pushed away from my screen and she bent forward to
repair the damage I had done, I treated myself to a long, lascivious look at
that juicy rear end of hers.

Then she knocked me flat on
my
ass with only her words.

"I always wondered what it
was that was missing in my work," she said dreamily, staring at my sketch
like it was the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. "I was just told that it
was too cold, too perfect. I worked too damn hard on it not want it to be perfect,
but now I understand why my professor said I lacked artistry."

I shook my head. "Your
professor is full of shit," I grumbled, gesturing towards the outfit she
was wearing today. "You're a fucking artist, Kia."

I had never called her by a
nickname before. It felt...good.

She looked down to where I had
gestured, the cutest little blush spreading across her caramel cheeks. "Oh
this? This is something I made for me, not my classes…"

I sat forward suddenly,
startling her. But she needed to understand. "You made it for yourself.
And that's why it's so damn good." I beckoned her towards me. "Come
here."

I didn't mean to order her
around but she needed to understand this. She moved towards me her breath
coming in short little gasps. My own breath was coming in ragged gasps as well
as I slid my hand down the three-quarter length sleeve of the well-tailored
jacket that covered her arms. "Take this off," I ordered.

She nodded mutely, her warm
brown eyes fixed on mine as she shrugged out of her blazer. I took the jacket
into my hands, and quickly turned it inside out.

"You put a dart in at the
elbows," I exhaled. "That's a vintage technique."

I looked back up at her. She
was in front of me in only her camisole and skirt, but for some reason that was
more erotic than if she were standing in front of me completely naked. I
swallowed thickly as my eyes traced this smooth, curving lines of her body.
Those generous breasts strained against the thin fabric of the camisole, and I
could see the delicate lace of her bra just out of my reach. I swallowed again
and handed the jacket back, shifting in my seat to hide my raging hard on.

She shrugged herself quickly
into her jacket, covering up that skin again. I felt like ordering her to take
it off once more. I had a feeling she would if I told her to.

But instead she dashed back to
her desk and opened the file in front of her with such finality that I knew
whatever spell there had been was now broken.

I turned back to my CAD file
and opened it to a new screen. I began sketching without even thinking, just
drawing the lines that came to my mind so I could stop thinking about the way
her lacy bra had tormented me for that brief second.

It wasn't until I finished that
I realized I had sketched out a gorgeously cut blazer with darts at the elbows.

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The way
he looked at me.

No one
had ever looked at me that way before.

Standing
in front of him in only my camisole felt like the most brazen thing I had ever
done. I should have said no. But somehow it had felt right. Like because he asked
it of me, I knew I would be okay.

The
heat from his gaze had seared my skin so thoroughly that I could still feel it
when I got home and crawled into bed, exhausted. Sleep would not come.

My
insomnia had risen to a fever pitch over the past few days. Night after night I
lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the traffic in the street above my
basement apartment.

And as
I stared, Zachary Kingsley's face swam above me. I had memorized it in perfect,
minute detail, from the little quirk of his lips that signified approval, all
the way to the swirl of stubble that darkened his sculpted cheeks. I knew each
individual whisker and loved each one of them.

I was
now a devoted student of Zachary Kingsley. I felt I knew him better than I knew
myself.

And from
the way he had looked at me, I could almost believe that he wanted to know me
too.

That
hope was what pushed me forward. I was the first in the office in the morning
and the last to leave at night. I spent my sleepless nights doing bleary-eyed
research over my wheezing laptop, sourcing his competitors, studying the
trends, being the eyes and ears that he needed on the marketplace in order to
regain his lofty stature once more. I would do all of this for Zachary and
never expected to get paid. In fact I couldn't believe that I was actually
getting college credit to be so close to the man that I now realized I was
desperate to be with.

My body
responded in the only way I knew how. Lifelong virginity had taught me a lot
about my own desire, and I knew exactly what I needed in order to be able to
fall asleep. Only one thing would calm the riot of desire and anticipation in
my brain.

My body
cried out to be touched.

And in
the stillness and silence of my solo apartment the only person who could do
that was me.

I
rolled over onto my side and traced my hand along my neck where I had felt his
gaze. My skin tingled from the memory of his smile as he looked at me. As I
brushed my hand down lower, I traced the outline of my breasts, imagining his
hands upon them. My whole body broke out into goose bumps at the thought.

I heard the rush of blood in my ears, louder than the
noise outside of my window. I opened my mouth and moaned out the frustrated
desire. My fingers wanted to go down, my hand wanted to be clenched between my
thighs. My whole core beat a throbbing rhythm, wanting more than wishes to
sustain it.

I wanted him. I wanted him more than I've ever wanted
anything in my life. It was a need too great to be ignored.

When my fingers slipped down below the waistband of my
cotton pajamas and into the crease of my soft folds, the heat they found nearly
scalded me.
 
I let one slide inside,
slowly, just a little dip into the wetness that was growing slicker by the second.
Hastily, I yanked my pajama bottoms down and flung them into the darkness of my
room.

The brush of the fabric against the hairs on my upper
thighs was enough to make me moan again.
 
I flopped back onto the bed, feeling the softness of the sheets against
my bare legs, bicycling them over and over again, entranced by the sensation,
but desperate for more of it.

"Zach," I whispered, biting into my
knuckle.
 
It was the first time I
had dared speak his first name. Until that moment he was only Mr. Kingsley, or
more often 'sir.' Something about the way he strode around the office,
accepting deference as his due, made 'sir'
seem
the
most appropriate title.

I also like the way he smiled when I called him that.
And I liked the way it made my body tingle to make him smile.

The memory of his smile sent my hand between my legs
again. My fingers found their mark, and this time it wasn't just an
exploration.
 
I pressed frantically
into the hardened pearl of my clit, tensing the muscles of my thighs to arch
upward into my own hand.
 
My hips
bucked upward higher and higher as I rubbed frantically.
 
The little darts of pleasure built and
built into a crescendo.
 
I squeezed
my eyes shut and raked my free hand over my breast, imagining his lips on my
nipple as I tweaked the peak.
 

The sudden wave that hit me was more violent and
all-consuming than anything I had felt before.
 
My legs shot straight out as the bolt of
pure lightning hit me and burned me from the inside out.
 
With a wordless, strangled cry, I lost
myself in the waves of pleasure that washed over me like the sea crashing into
the shore.

 
And then I
squeezed my thigh muscles together and gritted my teeth.
 
Because it hadn't been enough.
 
My own fingers knew myself too
well.
 
With them I could never
experience the feeling of Zachary's body next to mine.
 
This little session had done nothing to
dampen the fire of my ardor, it had only fanned the flames.

And so I rolled back over onto my back, and tried to
close my eyes. But sleep was a long time in coming, and morning was very close
at hand. I rolled back over and looked at my alarm clock and counted on my
fingers.

Only three more hours until I would get to see him
again.

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She was
the best damn worker I had ever seen.
Besides
myself,
of course.

We were
working our way through the license agreements, placing frequent calls to my
lawyers to find out which clauses could be excised and which ones were
airtight. I felt myself slowly regaining control of the company I had built
from the ground up. With Nakia at my side, I felt invincible once again.

In the
two weeks since she was unceremoniously brought to my door, Nakia James had
proven herself to be the most invaluable person in my life. She was the first
to arrive in the morning, always slightly breathless in a charmingly eager sort
of way.
 
And she frequently left
after I did.

"Good
morning Mr. Kingsley, sir," she smiled at me that morning, her beautiful
face shining up from behind the pile of teetering files. I had set her up with
a small desk in the corner of my office, so that I could bark orders at her
whenever the mood struck me.

And of
course it kept her in view. I found myself looking forward to seeing another
piece of her seemingly limitless personal wardrobe. It seemed as if everything
was a one-of-a-kind creation. Thus-far, the only brand-name I’d been able to
recognize came from her shoes. Vintage and delicate in their age, she always
seemed conscious of keeping them beautiful.

Whenever
I didn't have a task for her, she would sit with her sketchbook, the tongue
poking just out of the corner of her mouth in the most adorable way, as she
moved her pencil in tight, controlled strokes. One day I had sent her down to
the file room and snooped, and what I saw made my heart start racing. And once
I did that, I couldn't stop.

Everything
I needed to re-launch my brand was locked up in Nakia's brilliant mind. I could
see it. I just had to help her access it.

I’d
taken to sketching her designs at my desk as she worked, drawing out the
patterns and adding my own personal touches. This woman was talented. With the
right direction, she could be a powerhouse in the industry… It was a welcome
distraction, and by this point, my fingers had traced every line of her body
across wide sheets of paper.

And I
had stopped twisting my ring finger, looking for the ring that wasn't there. My
finger no longer seemed naked to me. It seemed right...and free.

But
work is no place for sentiment. "How are we coming with those
agreements?" I slammed my coffee down onto my desk, not caring that it
sloshed slightly. Nakia was also really good at cleaning up my messes.

She
stood up quickly, darting across the marble floor with a quick tap of her
heels. I watched appreciatively as her curvy body swayed slightly in the cute
little outfit she’d worn today. "I placed a call to the UK," she said
it, pursing her lips in the most adorable way. "We were just waiting for
you to get into the office before we proceeded."

I felt
my eyebrows shoot up on my forehead. "What time did you get here?" I
asked.

She
darted a quick look at the clock on the wall. "Oh, around 6:45 AM."

I
nodded. "Good. Good thinking."

She
nodded as well. It was nice to have someone on the same wavelength as me.

"Who
do we need on that call?" I asked. I had forgotten which deal we were
working on right now, that I didn't want to let Nakia know that. If I knew with
whom we were speaking, it would subtly remind me what the hell was going on.
Nakia had taken over this project so completely that I felt like I was almost
superfluous. It was an odd feeling.

She
pursed her lips again as she glanced down at her now ever present notebook.
Darting a quick motion upward, she tucked a fallen lock behind her ear. I felt
my eyes drawn that motion, like a moth to a flame. It exposed the soft curve of
her neck, a sight that I devoured greedily with my eyes as they grazed upward
along her jaw line to settle on her face.

It was
a measure of my obsession with her that I actually noticed something was
different. I don't usually take the time to notice the appearance of others,
something that forever disappointed Dana.
 
But I noticed everything about Nakia and today what I saw made me
nervous.

The
usual bloom on her cheeks was absent. In its place I noticed a sallowness that
had not been there before. There was a dark shadow underneath her deep brown
eyes.

She
looked…tired.

I
blinked for a moment as I gazed at her. She was speaking, but her words were
falling against my ears with little effect. I was too caught up in my own
rising panic.

She
looked exhausted, if I were being true to myself. She looked as exhausted as
Dana had when she had finally broken and declared that she was leaving me for
someone who wasn't going to work her to death.

Was I
doing the same thing to Nakia?

"Good,
good, let's make that happen." I waved my hand airily and she nodded and
returned to her desk to do what it was I had presumably agreed to.

I still
had no idea what was going on today. I was too busy worrying that I was
repeating history all over again.

I swore then and there that I
wasn't going to ruin Nakia the way I had ruined Dana. If things were going to
be different, I had to be different.