Billionaires & Babies: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  She took measured breaths as the bartender and Brian went through a basic routine of questions and answers: happy hour wasn’t so happy this time, stressful day at work, whiskey to take the edge off. When the bartender finally handed over the tumbler of alcohol, his gaze swept toward Connie.

  “Another one?” he asked, his tone significantly less friendly than how he’d greeted Brian.

  Her mouth parted. She needed to ask for the check, but speaking might draw attention to herself. And right now, she just needed to shrivel. All she could do was nod.

  The bartender got to work mixing her another margarita while Connie fretted. She gripped her handbag in one granite fist, thighs tensed. Maybe she could run out before the bartender turned back around. She didn’t have enough cash on her to leave it on the bar, maybe they’d let her pay up front or next door or mail them a check from out of state. Anything to avoid the impossibly sexy but newly off-putting former boss of hers spotting her.

  She started to slide off the stool. It creaked. She didn’t take her eyes off the fascinating shelves of liquor, her heart pounding and reinforcing the goal with every beat: Get. Out. Of. Here. As if not looking at him would help him not notice her. The pair of executives to her left downed their drinks and stood, adjusting suit jackets. Now nobody blocked her from Brian’s view.

  Over the low din of conversation, Brian groaned. “Oh, Christ.”

  Her skin prickled. She slid her gaze to him. His blue eyes were like dry ice on her.

  Fuck.

  She gulped back a wave of anxiety. The bartender turned, bringing her a freshly mixed margarita. She offered a small smile to Brian.

  “Hey there,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. If anything, Connie was known for being the first to greet in any social situation—and often loudly.

  Brian sent her a withering look. He lifted his tumbler. “Cheers.”

  Connie reluctantly took her margarita, fastening her gaze on the bar counter. She rolled her lips inward. This was officially the most awkward situation of her life. Even worse than…no, she didn’t want to go there ever again. Going there was why she was now here.

  “Brian, I’m sorry,” she blurted.

  Brian tsked. “Sorry doesn’t change the bottom line.” He downed the entire tumbler in one gulp, then slammed the glass on the counter. “Drew, get me another, will ya?”

  Something in his tone made her skin prickle. It wasn’t just the hard edge of a man broken open by disappointment. This was a new side of Brian. One she’d never witnessed before. Brian, the regular guy. Outside of work hours.

  Connie sipped at her margarita. She should leave now. Not finish the drink. Just set it down and walk out that door and never look back. But something was holding her back. Even if all she could do was apologize a hundred times and slink away in a cloud of humiliation, she needed to stay.

  “I didn’t know the video would… glitch out like that,” Connie stuttered. “I’m a friendly person. I only wanted to…”

  “To what?” Brian received the next tumbler of whiskey. The bartender’s eyes darted between them, unspoken curiosities there.

  Tequila burned through her veins, prompting honesty. Why not? There was nothing to lose. “Liven things up a bit. In case you haven’t noticed, the office is incredibly stuffy. Everyone is so intent on working, no one ever talks to each other. You’d think it was against the rules.”

  “Like the x-rated video you were showing?”

  “It wasn’t an x-rated video!” Connie’s voice had shot up an octave and she spoke loud enough that others were looking her way. Lowering her voice, she hissed at him. “It was a little program I wrote. Cute. Harmless. But I’d had it set to autoplay, so when it finished, it went to the next video with the whole bom chicka wah wah and I couldn’t get the damn thing to stop.” She blew out a shaky breath and took a large sip of her margarita willing herself not to cough as she swallowed it down.

  Brian didn’t speak for a moment, just fixated his fiery gaze on the tumbler between his palms. After a few moments of quiet, his shoulders slumped.

  “Prince Yariz is never looking at O Developments again.”

  “There will be other opportunities,” Connie said, taking another sip of margarita to calm herself. “When one door shuts, another usually…always opens. Or something like that. There will be other, better, opportunities.”

  Brian snorted, glaring at her. “You lost me my biggest deal to date and you’re telling me to look for another open door?”

  Her cheeks flamed. She sipped at the margarita again, relishing the swell of alcohol through her system. This, if anything, would help take away the sting of both job loss and confrontation. Staring at the bar, she peeked to see if he was still glaring at her, but he was immersed in his drink. Now was the worst time for her to fawn all over her very hot boss. Ex-boss. His tawny-tinged hair was short and styled neatly; the beard he kept shorn close to stubble was full ginger. His cheekbones were as chiseled as a Roman bust.

  “If he would drop a deal just because of what I did…” She struggled to think of a rationale. “Then he wasn’t worth doing business with.”

  “No. He was worth doing business with.” Brian’s voice had a caustic edge. “His company alone is worth billions. O Developments needs him. And we’ll never have him.”

  Connie downed the rest of her margarita, far quicker than she would normally drink it.

  “I should go,” she said. “You’ve already fired me once. You don’t need to do it over and over again.”

  Brian was quiet as she waved down the bartender, a tense silence settling between them. Just as she was about to ask for the check, Brian butted in.

  “Get her another one of those.” He jerked his thumb toward her empty glass. “And put them on my tab.”

  Only part of her brain recognized the nice gesture. Most of her was still hurt from the horrible day and the subtle venom dripping off Brian.

  “I don’t want another one,” she said. Another one would be nice, actually. She just didn’t want to be reminded anymore of how badly she’d screwed up.

  “We’ve both had a fucking horrible day,” Brian said. When she tried to stand, he pointed at her stool. “Sit. Wallow with me.”

  Curiosity wound through her. She’d never even gotten an inkling that this was the Brian buried under his business exterior.

  Brian stood, and then slid onto the stool next to Connie’s. His hard gaze swept over the pile of shredded napkins in front of her. He sighed, drumming his fingers against the counter. “Yeah. Really rough day for both of us.”

  3

  Margaritas bled into bar snacks which bled into more margaritas. When Connie finally thought to check her phone, it was almost nine p.m.

  “I need to get going,” she said, feeling that delicious sluggishness through her limbs. The margaritas had worked. Alcohol was a balm. She and Brian had been hanging out and even flirting. All was right with the world.

  “No. No, no, no.” Brian waved his hand in the air, like batting away the idea. “It’s early.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a—” She cut herself off before she could say work night. It wasn’t a work night anymore. She had nowhere to be tomorrow.

  “What. It’s Thursday. Thirsty Thursday.” Brian hefted with a laugh. “We’re pretty thirsty, huh?”

  She tilted her head to look up at him. This close, she could see the little laugh lines by his eyes. The full arc of those full lips. She caught occasional whiffs of his cologne. He smelled expensive, like cedar and trust funds.

  “Yeah, but…” No rebuttal came to her.

  “Exactly.” Brian fished out his wallet. “I do agree it’s time to leave. But that means we should take the party to my place.”

  Her eyes widened. That was ludicrous. Only because she would love to go there and never in a million years did she expect Brian to suggest it of his own accord. “What? Are you serious?”

  Brian shrugged, looking around the bar. “This place is bor
ing. Besides.” He leaned in, bringing his mouth close to her ear. “We both could use some fun, don’t you think?”

  His suggestion thrilled her, and she’d had enough to drink to know not to read too much into it. Fun was what he was offering. She’d been imagining fun with Brian since the day she laid eyes on him eight months ago when she started the job. Fun with Brian had been at the top of her Fantasy Hookups That Could Never Possibly Happen list.

  “Let’s get a move on,” she blurted and grabbed for her handbag. She ran to the bathroom to take care of her aching bladder while Brian paid the tab. Mind swirling and feeling like the lead in a movie, she studied the bright, polished tiles of the bathroom floor. This couldn’t possibly be her life. This had to be a Hollywood blockbuster script. Screwed by the same man, in two different ways. She grinned to herself. This might be a horrible idea later, but now, she just wanted to run with it.

  The trip to Brian’s house passed in a blur. Brian called for a car—his own personal driver—to pick them up outside the bar. Everything that usually felt familiar and commonplace—the well-lit downtown skyscrapers, the din and clamor of the Gaslamp Quarter nightlife just getting started—was tinged with newness. Brian by her side made everything feel fresh.

  They shared secretive glances on the drive to his place. When the driver dropped them off in front of a lavish looking apartment building overlooking the bay, the cooler, damp air whipped around her. Brian shoved his hands into his pockets, squinting up at the building.

  “We’re going there.” He pointed to the top floor, then smiled down at her.

  “Do we just jump straight up? There must be a trampoline around here somewhere, huh?”

  He grinned a little, leading them into a gleaming foyer with white tiles and platinum accents. Ferns lined every available inch of the walls. Once the elevator doors closed behind them, Brian stepped forward, backing her against the wall.

  “I don’t want to keep myself off you any longer,” Brian whispered, flattening his palms on either side of her head.

  “Then by all means, don’t,” Connie croaked, unable to rip her gaze from the man’s magnetic icy blue eyes. They still hadn’t kissed, but somehow this was hotter than any other hookup she’d ever had, not that she’d had many. Maybe it was because he’d been her boss a mere eight hours prior. Or maybe because he was actually the sexiest man on the planet.

  Brian let one hand drift downward, trailing fingers over the buttons of her plain black work shirt. Her skin tingled in his wake. Time slowed to a crawl. All she could see was his perfect, princely face. The ginger beard glinting in the bright light of the elevator. Those lush, full lips coming closer…closer…

  The tang of whiskey hit her first, followed by the warm press of his lips to hers. Her body reacted before her mind. She dove into the kiss without an ounce of hesitation, palms pressed to the flat expanse of his chest, her eyes fluttering shut. The kiss launched her libido into the stratosphere. She needed this man. Now.

  The doors opened behind him, but they didn’t move for a long time. Instead, they kissed furiously, as though they were long-lost lovers finding each other after years apart. Something about him felt—or maybe tasted—familiar. Like they’d been here before. Like she was coming home, somehow.

  Or maybe that was just her sex-starved mind knitting stories again. When the doors started to close behind him, he reached out with a hand, groping blindly. Finally, their lips unlocked with a loud sucking noise. Brian grunted, his arm shooting between the doors before they closed.

  “We’re here,” he said, his voice husky.

  She rolled her lips inward, relishing the stinging memory of their kiss. “Oh? You live in the elevator?

  Brian cracked a heartbreaking smile, leading her out of the elevator by her hand. The trip to his front door wasn’t far. It was the only door in the taupe-carpeted hallway, marked with a P.

  “You have the penthouse.”

  Brian nodded, fishing his keys out of his pocket. The door swung open a moment later.

  Connie wanted to absorb his home space, to take it all in, but his lips and hands were on her a moment later, pushing her inside, bringing her stumbling against him. He kicked the door shut behind them, and then it was all bets off. Their kisses bled into more kisses, hot and passionate, like the world would end if their lips weren’t locked. Brian’s warm palms skated over her shoulders, down the sides of her body. He guided her backwards, smiling through the kiss when she almost stumbled.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered. Without even looking, she could feel the quiet comforts of his home. The luxury. That same cedar smell hung in the air, too. This was all Brian.

  He guided her down a hallway, and then they were in the dark bedroom. She bounced backward on the king-sized bed, giggling. It was plush—way nicer than even the top models she’d tested once at a mattress outlet store. In the dim light of the full moon beyond the window, Connie saw Brian undressing: unbuttoning his shirt, loosening his belt, pushing his pants down. She watched, transfixed, still somewhere between disbelief and euphoria.

  Not only was she getting laid finally—it was going to be with her former boss.

  Connie hurried to tug her clothes off, but a mostly-naked Brian intercepted her.

  “Let me,” he said. Footsteps fell softly, and a moment later soft white mood lighting filled the room. She inhaled sharply—the place was chic. Black bedding, gray walls. Brian looked up at the sconces lining the walls and adjusted a knob by the door. The lights dimmed slightly.

  “That’s better,” he said and came toward her again, his muscly, pale thighs snagging her attention. He wore black boxer briefs, which were tented over his cock. His cock. She froze, unable to wrap her mind around it. She was seconds away from seeing his penis.

  “I’ve been wanting to get you naked for too fucking long,” Brian admitted as he eased onto the bed. He straddled her, his hamstrings bulging as he leaned back onto his heels. He tugged the button-up out from the waist of her skirt, undoing the buttons with a reverence that she’d never experienced before.

  “I didn’t realize,” she croaked.

  “No. You couldn’t know.” He chuckled softly, spreading open the shirt. He sighed softly, his gaze scorching over her torso. He must have liked what he saw, because he growled a little, palming the stiff ridge of his briefs.

  Brian dipped down, skating kisses over her belly, gently biting each nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. He smiled down at the tight buds of her nipples. “I loved when you wore this shirt, because I could always see your nipples pressing against the fabric.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she covered her eyes with her hands. “Are you serious?” His words sent heat rushing to her pussy. It was as hot as it was embarrassing.

  “Mm-hmm.” He slipped his hands under her bra, taking big handfuls of her breasts. “Now I can finally say it.”

  Brian made quick work of divesting her of her clothes, leaving her in her Captain Marvel cotton panties. She might have picked something better if she’d known she’d be sleeping with her boss at the end of the day.

  “I have to admit that I was taken aback when I first saw these this morning.” Brian traced along the logo on her panties making her shiver in response before she realized what he said.

  “Wait, what do you mean first saw?”

  “When you made that spectacularly clumsy fall into your chair, your skirt had flown up giving the both of us a view of Captain Marvel.”

  “So, I flashed…a prince?” Connie’s voice ended on a squeak and all thought of getting it on with her boss was rapidly being replaced with pure mortification.

  Leaning over her, Brian kissed her, leaving her breathless. Pulling just far enough away, he could speak, “I thought it was hot,” he whispered against her skin.

  Brian’s fingers danced around the edge of her panties for a few moments before he slipped his fingers inside. The feel of his thick, rough fingers poking around, exploring her womanhood, made her brea
th hitch. She grabbed onto his biceps, pleasure already forming a dense knot in her core and all thought of her embarrassment forgotten.

  “You don’t know how bad I want to be inside you, Connie,” Brian murmured into her ear. Leaning across her, he opened the bedside table and pulled out a condom, tearing the packet open. Leaning back to slide it on, he suggested that she remove her panties before he decided to tear them off and Connie quickly did her best contortionist impersonation as she wiggled out of her panties and tossed them to the floor. he slick heat of his cockhead found the folds of her pussy. Her head lolled back. Having his solid, steely heat pressed against her rendered her useless. Incapable. Totally blissed out.

  “So, what are you waiting for? Get inside there!” she cracked, spreading her legs wider. She gripped the sides of his narrow hips, trying as hard as she could to remember all the details about this night. This unlikely hookup, just maybe, would make up for the horrible day. If only for tonight, under the haze of the tequila.

  Brian pushed himself into her, his fat cockhead popping in with some effort. The air escaped him in a loud rush and he stilled, squeezing his eyes shut.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “What?” She traced the lines of his six pack with her fingers. The divots made by muscle. A road map to his body that she was eager to learn. If only this would lead to something else.

  “You…” He flexed his hips, finding another inch or two. “You feel so fucking good.”

  Her head lolled backward. Good was an understatement. The man was heavenly. Radical. Her future wet dream forevermore. “Just ‘good’? That’s almost an insult.”

  A shuddery laugh escaped him. “You’re right. The English language doesn’t have a word that even comes close.”

  “We should get out a dictionary, huh?” Her voice was breathy now. She could hardly focus enough to make words. “God. You feel fucking…exemplary.”