The Billionaire's Unwanted Virgin

by Doris O'Connor

"I'll be back momentarily, Miss Wanderlund." Percy Nevin disappeared through a door on the opposite side, and Alice couldn't help herself. Fountains always reminded her of a vacation they'd had in Rome, when Daddy had still been alive. They had thrown a coin into every fountain they'd found, and Alice had closed her eyes and made a fervent wish.

  She dug in her oversized handbag for the spare change that always rolled around on the bottom and stepping up to the fountain, closed her eyes and threw the coin inside.

  "I'm not sure any wishes made here will work, little Alice in Wonderland."

  The deep, slightly accented voice wrapped itself around her like a heavy cloak, even as the age old joke on her name had her grind her teeth. She spun ‘round to give the owner of that sinfully sexy voice a verbal dressing down, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when the man stepped out of the shadows.

  Dark eyes the color of charcoal assessed her from under straight slashed eyebrows drawn together in a frown. Shiny jet black hair, pulled back into a ponytail with a sliver of leather, framed a proud, tanned face with a crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken more than once. A five o’ clock shadow already framed that prominent jaw, marred by a lethal looking scar on one side that drew her gaze to a full, sensuous mouth, set in a grim smile. He'd rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, exposing strong forearms and the edges of an intricate tribal tattoo on his left biceps. Arms crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders strained the fabric of his shirt.

  Aware that she was staring, she could not tear her eyes away from his languid long-legged advance. The faded denim jeans clung to him like a second skin and accentuated the obvious bulge in his groin. Heat crept into her cheeks, and she hastily tore her eyes away from that part of his body. She did not need the reminder of what she had signed up for. His clean, male scent filled her senses when he stepped right into her personal space, so close that his body heat warmed her frozen skin, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. He towered over her and leant one hand on the fountain wall while he looked inside.

  "So, tell me little Alice, what did you wish for?"

  "I'm not little, and that play on my name is hardly original." Her voice was far too breathy, but at least she'd managed to get it to work.

  He focused his attention back on her, and her heart turned into a jack hammer. The man was simply gorgeous. Sexy and dangerous all rolled into one heart-stopping, testosterone-laden man, who had bad boy written all over him. If he was indeed Zeb, then heaven help her. Lying back and thinking of England suddenly didn't seem like an option anymore.

  "If the shoe fits…" He was so close that his hot, slightly minty breath raised the fine strands of hair that had come loose out its confines at the nape of her neck, and she drew a shuddering breath into her lungs. His gaze followed that movement and settled briefly on her breasts. They felt heavier under his obvious perusal, and her nipples beaded into hard nubs. She hastily crossed her arms and stepped away from him, to give herself some much needed breathing space, and to avoid him noticing her body's shameless reaction to his presence.

  A brief smile crossed his forbidding expression, and he, too, took a step back, much to her relief.

  "Stop looking at me as though I'm going to pounce on you. Percy tells me you wanted to get this over with, so here I am, little Alice."

  Alice had to remind herself to keep breathing.

  "You're Zeb?"

  If anything he looked even more menacing at her whispered question.

  "No, Zeb was my brother." He shook his head, and his lips tightened into a cruel twist. A chill of foreboding sent an icy tendril up her spine, and she couldn't suppress the shudder that went through her as his hard eyes connected with hers.

  "I'm afraid my brother's foolishness killed him, so whatever little game you're trying to pull, you've just run out of luck, little Alice, because I seem to have inherited you."

  Chapter Two

  "I am so sorry for your loss."

  The whispered words kicked him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. He'd expected drama and tears, not this quiet statement. Her hand went out as if to touch him, but she seemed to think better of it, when her tear-stained eyes sought his. He braced himself for the histrionics that were sure to follow, but she surprised him again. She blinked the tears away, straightened her shoulders, and offered him a weak smile.

  "I shan't intrude on your time any longer then. If you can just call me a taxi to take me to the nearest train station I'll make my own way home." She didn't look at him as she mumbled the words, looking fragile enough at this moment for a gust of wind to knock her over. She wasn't small by any means, but even so, in her flat sandals, her head would fit just nicely under his chin. In heels she would be the perfect height for him to kiss her without him having to stoop too low.

  Lakota shook his head in annoyance. Where the hell had that thought come from? The mention of Zeb had addled his brain. That and her unexpected demeanor. He'd had no intention of actually meeting the woman who'd sold her virginity to the highest bidder, not after he'd seen her picture. The online picture that had so obviously ensnared his brother to spend Lakota's money had left him cold. Just another money grabbing female, who used her body to get what she wanted. Even after Percy had run a thorough back ground check on Miss Alice Wanderlund with surprising results, according to his man, he'd refused to read the thick file Percy had passed him.

  "Just deal with it. Pay her off and make sure she won't talk, Percy. I don't need the scandal right now, as you well know. I have more important things to consider."

  "Naturally, Sir, but for now we should keep to the terms of the bid. I would suggest inviting her to your county house, so we can form a plan of action, and keep her out of the limelight."

  As much as Lakota hated the thought of such an obvious strumpet invading his privacy, he could see the sense behind Percy's suggestion.

  "Do whatever is necessary. Just keep her away from me. I've had enough of money-grabbing whores to last me a lifetime. I just need her not to talk. Up the payment if you need to."

  Percy had nodded in understanding.

  "I'm not sure paying her off would necessarily ensure she'd keep quiet. There is only so much I can do, and it would leave you open to further blackmail. It's a shame you're not marrying her. Now that would ensure I could button her down so tight she couldn't even breathe without your knowledge, Sir." There had been an odd twinkle in Percy's eyes when he'd made that outrageous statement. "And you do need to marry, so this would be killing two birds with one stone."

  "I'm not that desperate that I would pay a whore to marry me, Percy."

  "Well, strictly speaking this one is a virgin, so—"

  Lakota had cut the other man's fanciful notions off with an impatient shake of his hand. Percy had taken the hint and made a hasty retreat.

  Lakota scowled at the woman trying to get past him now.

  "Don't be ridiculous. You are not leaving."

  She visibly startled and took several steps backward until the low wall of the fountain stopped her. She stumbled, and Lakota's reflexes kicked in. He grabbed her ‘round the waist before she could end up in the fountain. Her soft curves collided with his body, and her sweet, slightly flowery scent filled his nostrils. She smelled of lemon, and a faint trace of what had to be toothpaste, as her breath whooshed out of her lungs. None of the cloying perfumes and artful make-up tricks he was used to from the women in his acquaintance were in residence here. With her breasts squashed against his chest, and her little hands curled around his biceps, he was far too aware that she was all woman, however, under that ridiculous cover up she'd chosen to wear. The slight tremble that went through her raised his protective instincts, and when she wriggled against him in a seeming effort to free herself, he hardened against his will.

  He swore under his breath. She went as still as a statue when she noticed his state of arousal, and he released her with some reluctance. It had been a while since he'd engaged in the pleasur
es of the flesh, and Lakota admitted to himself that he found her far too attractive.

  He'd been watching from his office when she'd exited the limo, her green eyes wide and searching as she took in her surroundings. She'd looked impossibly young and unsure, and not at all what he'd been expecting, so when Percy had come to find him with a big grin on his face, Lakota had to see her close up.

  Seeing her completely engrossed in the childlike act of throwing a coin into his courtyard fountain had taken another chink out of his armor, and he didn’t like that one little bit.

  This close to her, he could see that her face was completely bare of any make-up, apart from a touch of lip gloss and mascara. Her blonde locks, pulled back into a messy pony tail, threatened to escape their bondage completely, and his fingers itched to touch the silky strands. An image of her on top of him, naked with her blonde tresses covering them both swam into his mind, and he pushed her away with more force than was strictly necessary.

  "I don't understand. Of course I'm leaving, and I don't want to put you out. I'm sorry to be intruding on your grief at such a time." She wrapped her arms around herself again as she spoke, and her little teeth worried her bottom lip leaving indents in their wake.

  Lakota crunched his jaw together and forced himself to breathe evenly. The simple act was incredibly erotic.

  "You're not intruding on anything, and you're not leaving. And if you were, my driver would be taking you home. I'm not a complete ogre." He growled the words, and her expressive eyes widened to such a degree they looked huge in her pale face.

  "But why am I here? The bid was with your brother, and if … I mean under the circumstances … I …" Her words faltered, and heat crept into her cheeks.

  Now there was a thing he hadn't seen in a while. An honest to goodness blush on a woman. He didn't know women still did that, not unless they wanted something, but little Alice in front of him couldn't even look at him. Every pore of her being quivered in embarrassment and confusion, and Lakota's instincts were screaming at him that on this occasion at least, this woman—this contradiction in terms—seemed genuine. How he knew that he couldn't even begin to explain to himself, and that thought made him angry.

  She had to have an agenda; they all did. It was just his dick talking, that's all. Lust clouded a man's brain, and this woman ticked all the right boxes to have his long forgotten libido sit up and scream at him to take what was his. And she was his. He'd bought her after all.

  "That's where you're mistaken, little Alice." He smiled at the way her blush deepened and her breathing hitched. Not in embarrassment this time, but temper. Sure enough she stamped her foot and glared at him.

  "Will you stop calling me that? I am not little, and I have not followed some rabbit down a hole to get here."

  Lakota laughed, and she grumbled under her breath. He'd just bet she'd sound like that in the throes of passion. He shifted his weight to ease the discomfort in his groin, and that blush of hers deepened to a bright scarlet when her gaze darted briefly to his crotch, before she wrenched her eyes upwards and pointedly stared at a spot over his left shoulder.

  "Not a rabbit, no, just the proverbial carrot," he said. "Tell me, what is the minimum amount you'd have sold your virtue for? That is, if indeed you're still as intact as you claim to be."

  She gasped and balled her hands into fists.

  "How dare you? I had those humiliating tests to prove that I am, and you know full well what my reserve was. And I couldn't sell anything, if there weren't perverts like your brother in this world willing to pay for it." As though she realized what she'd said she clamped a hand over her mouth in horror, and Lakota smiled in grim amusement.

  "Lucky for you, he was, otherwise you wouldn't be cashing in now, would you? At my expense I might add. It's my money that paid for that winning bid, and thus it's me who owns you, little Alice. And before you ask, I have no fucking clue what your reserve was, as it's not me who wanted to deflower you. I prefer my women experienced in bed, not a whimpering virgin who'll likely pass out when she sees my cock."

  He was all too aware that he was overstepping the line, his words intended to wound, but something about the way she protested her innocence, as though she'd been wronged in this somehow, grated on his nerves. He wasn't a cruel man per se, though his business adversaries might disagree with that statement, but little Alice here made him wish for things that he had no business wishing for.

  He wanted to believe in her innocence, and at the same time it was an unwanted complication he didn't need, even if it played right into his hands.

  All the previous flush of heat drained away and left her naturally pale skin so white, for a moment he wondered whether she was going to pass out. Instead she straightened her shoulders again in that unconscious way he'd observed her doing so several times now, and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was the image of restrained dignity.

  "I am going to pretend you didn't just say that to me, Mr. …?" She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to fill her in on his name.

  "Just call me Lance," he said.

  "Lance? I'd have expected a more unusual name." She glanced toward the edges of his tattoo just visible above the sleeve of his shirt. "What is your tribal name? You do have one, haven't you?"

  He was so flummoxed by her directness that he replied without thinking, "Lakota."

  She nodded and smiled. A tight, reserved, incredibly polite smile, that made him feel lacking somehow.

  "Sioux?" she asked.

  At his nod, she murmured, "figures," under her breath before continuing. "So, Lakota, as I was saying, I am going to pretend you didn't just say all that to me." She glared at him again and stabbed her index finger into his chest repeatedly.

  "You may be rich, you may be grieving, and I am sorry for your loss, but I did not come here to be insulted. I came here for a business transaction, that's all. So, if you are indeed now my owner as you so succinctly put it, then let's get this over with. Claim what's yours, give me what I've earned, and we never have to see each other again. Problem solved."

  The words were brave, but there was a slight wobble to her voice, and she bit that plump bottom lip again in a way that had his softening body tighten in need. Damn it, he wanted her, but on his terms and for a damn sight longer than the one night stipulated in that damn bid.

  Some of his thought processes must have shown on his face, because she looked uncertain, if not downright frightened of him, the longer he just stood there and looked at her.

  "Have you quite finished with your little tirade?"

  "I was not—"

  "Spare me. I hate to disabuse you of your little notions, but the problem is far from solved. What guarantee can you give me that you will not leave here, the minute I've indulged myself in your delightful wares, and go running to the papers to sell your story? In fact, how do I know that you're not wearing a wire now under that ridiculous outfit, and some sleaze reporter is lapping up this conversation, ready to have it spewed all over the Sunday papers in the morning? I am a wealthy man. You wouldn't be the first piece of skirt who tried that. Admittedly your technique is more inventive than others, but the fact remains. There is no way you will walk out of this house anytime soon."

  She swallowed hard, and he caught her now slack hand in his and pulled her back to him until their thighs touched. He cupped her face with his free hand to make her look at him and indulged himself by dipping his head and brushing his lips across hers. Her outraged gasp mingled with his exhale, and he smiled at the evidence of her galloping heart rate visible via the wildly jumping pulse point in her slender neck.

  "You can't keep me here against my will. There are laws against kidnapping, and I would never run to the papers. What sort of woman do you think I am?"

  The hurt behind those whispered words settled in his gut like acid lead, and he searched her face for any malice. He cursed under his breath when he found none.

  "I’ll tell you, sh
all I? The kind I am going to marry."

  ****

  Alice stared at him disbelief. She couldn't have heard him right. He wanted to marry her? Was she caught up in some terrifying nightmare? That had to be it. Either that or his overwhelming presence had addled her brains. This close to him she was acutely aware of every ounce of hard, male flesh she was plastered against. The secret place between her thighs throbbed in need, and moisture soaked her sensible cotton knickers. The blood roared in her ears, and if her heart beat any faster it would surely go into cardiac arrest.

  Aware that he was studying her, waiting for her reaction, she found her voice from somewhere.

  "Are you proposing to me?" She winced at the squeaky quality of her voice, and he laughed and mercifully let her go. She felt cold and curiously at sea without his big body surrounding her.

  "I am sorry. Shall I go down on one knee? It might be overkill under the circumstances, but if it makes you feel better?"

  Sure enough, he perched down on one knee, one hand held to his heart in a mocking re-enactment of a marriage proposal.

  "Dearest little Alice, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He winked at her in a completely unexpected display of mischievousness so at odds with the surreal situation they were in, that she could only stare at him in her best impression of a goldfish.

  Before she could say anything at all, Percy's discreet throat clearing broke the silence, and Lakota straightened up with the grace and power of a sleek panther.

  "Ah just in time, Percy. Little Alice here has just agreed to be my wife."

  "I did no such thing. This is insane!" Her protests fell on deaf ears, and she was talking to Lakota's retreating back. He turned ‘round just before he disappeared into the house, and gave her such a calculating look that the blood froze in her veins.

  "Oh, but you will, my sweet. You simply have no choice at all. Explain it to her, Percy, will you."

  ****

  Alice pushed the perfectly prepared veal parmigiana around her plate, all too aware of Lakota's brooding presence at the other end of the long table. She fidgeted under his dark stare, and giving up on her dinner, picked up the wine glass again. The excellent Merlot stuck to her dry throat, and she passed on that, too.