Personal Delivery: A Billionaire Secrets Story

by Ainsley Booth

  I take a deep breath, but before I can figure out what to say and how to elaborate, he leans across the table and takes my hand in his.

  I look down at our fingers entwined on the table. His are bigger and longer than mine. His skin a bit darker. But there’s nothing about how we’re touching that gives me any insight into how to explain that we’re totally different people in totally different worlds, and that’s kind of crazy.

  “If I’m not what you’re looking for,” he says under his breath. “I’d underestimated my—”

  “No,” I blurt out. “You definitely tick all of my criteria boxes for dating.”

  “Well, that’s a step in the right direction.”

  “And you have since we met,” I add, lifting my face so I can look him in the eye. I think this is important to underline.

  He holds my gaze. “Dare I ask what they are?”

  Whoa. Okay, this feels serious.

  First dates shouldn’t be serious, right? I squeeze his fingers with mine, then lean back in my chair and smile.

  He smiles back as I scoop some whipped cream with my finger and lick it off.

  I hold up my index finger. First point. “Kind to pets. That’s a big deal to me.”

  He nods. “Of course. And how are the cats?”

  I roll my eyes, but he just holds my gaze. “Oh, you’re serious?”

  “Yes.” He laughs. “Did you think I was just asking that as an immediate follow-up to your suggestion that’s a good way to impress you?”

  “I think if you knew more about my dating track record, you’d totally understand my doubt.”

  “I don’t want to know anything about your dating track record. But rest assured, it wouldn’t occur to me to ask after a kitten as a way of getting into your pants.”

  That’s the right answer, but I can’t help but be honest anyway. “It would probably work. I’ve recently discovered I’m easy.”

  He leans forward again and swipes some of my whipped cream.

  “Hey, get your own!”

  He grins as he licks off his finger. Two can play the teasing game. “What else?”

  I blush and keep counting. “Tall. Funny.”

  He nods, exaggerating his understanding, and I laugh at him.

  But the next point makes him blush. “Well…hung.”

  There’s a correlating point, but I’m not telling Jake that the perfect man would like to go down on me. All that matters is that he does and he is in fact perfect.

  “And…gainfully employed. That’s my last requirement. But like in a doesn’t-live-with-his-mother kind of way. No appears-on-CNN requirement.”

  “Too bad for me.” He gives me a burning look that steals my breath. “That would narrow the list of guys I’d have to compete with for you.”

  Oh. I can’t look away. I don’t want to. “You’re not competing with anyone.”

  We finish our coffee just like that, looking at each other. As far as first dates go, it kind of skipped some steps, but then I’ve never had a first date that followed hours of sex and weeks of ache, either.

  When we step outside, it feels right to slide my fingers back though Jake’s. And when he points at a restaurant across the way, and I tip my face up to look at him, he says, “Or maybe takeout?” at exactly the same time I do.

  We share a secret smile. Yes, maybe takeout.

  We place our order, then he tugs me out of the way of the door and leans against a wood-paneled wall. I fold into his side like this was something we did. A couple, waiting for food.

  He plays with my hair, his fingers lazily brushing a few strands off my face, then letting them fall again so he can repeat the gesture.

  We wait in silence for a few minutes, and it’s comfortable. Nice. But something is on his mind. He keeps looking at me like he wants to say something. And then he does. “Come to New York soon.”

  My head starts to spin. “I’m going to be there next week for work.”

  “Yeah?” He leans in and brushes his fingers over my cheek before he cups my jaw. The dizziness increases as he leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and persuasive. “Say you’ll stay with me.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” I whisper.

  I feel like Alice through the looking glass. How is this my life?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jake

  After spending the night together, I leave her wrapped in my shirt the next morning—and nothing else, which proves I have the will-power of a Titan—and head back to work.

  We talk every night. On New Year’s Eve, we ring in midnight together—me in New York, her with her friends in Philadelphia, but both of us on the phone, tuning out the world around us.

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four—”

  “Three, two, one!” I add my voice to hers, low and husky. She’s the only woman in the world I’d do this for, and I’m more than willing. I’m eager to have her countdown in my ear, and there’s a weird pang in my gut that I can’t pull her into my arms to kiss her right now.

  It doesn’t matter. She’s kissing me through the phone and it’s crazy adorable.

  “Have you ever gone to Times Square on New Year’s?” she asks breathily when she stops. She’s got this eagerness in her voice that really gets to me. She tries to cover it up, and that gets to me, too.

  “Not at midnight. It’s an insane crowd of people.”

  “And cold.”

  “Exactly.” I look around my apartment. The gas fireplace is on. Not cold at all in here. I’ll stretch her out in front of it and take things slow. Four days and counting. “You’re heading home in the morning?”

  “First thing.”

  “Cats will be happy to see you.”

  She laughs. “Yeah. Well, as much as cats do. Larken will be annoyed with me and pretend I don’t exist, but that’s a form of love.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “Right?” She giggles, and in the background, voices get louder. “In a minute,” she says, clearly not to me. “I should go do the social thing for the last few minutes of the party since I missed the countdown.”

  “Call me when you get home tomorrow?”

  “Okay.” She lowers her voice. “Night, Jake.”

  The day before she’s due to arrive, I’m in the middle of a presentation by a VP and two of his top project managers on the emergency top-down review at SwiftEx when my phone vibrates three times. Jana’s tone.

  It doesn’t go again, so I know it’s just a text message. I take a quick glance at the clock. Ten minutes left. Unless she texts again, I’ll wait until the meeting is over to check it.

  I’m not sure how I feel about the itch at the back of my neck, knowing she’s sent me something that I’m not letting myself look at yet.

  Women never come before work. That has never been a risk in the past, because I’m single-minded.

  Part of me wants to be careful about that.

  The rest of me wants to not fucking worry about it.

  When they wrap up, I ask two pointed questions about the timeline, because we can always do better.

  Then I check my message.

  Jana: Give me a call when you have a minute. Please.

  She’s added a flower sticker at the end of the text, but something tells me I’m not going to like this. I wait to call her until I’m in my office. I close the door and stride to the floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooks the city. It’s dark already and it’s started to snow.

  She picks up on the first ring. “Hey.”

  “I was in a meeting.”

  “That was still pretty fast.” She’s speaking fast, her words rushing together a bit like she’s nervous. “So…”

  “So?” I grin.

  “Speaking of meetings, mine has been postponed to next week.”

  Ah. “So you’re not coming up tomorrow.”

  “It’s just that I’ve been away from the cats a lot lately, and…” She groans. “Is this the dorkiest thing you’ve ever heard?
I shouldn’t even ask that out loud. I should assume yes, nobody has ever blown you off for cats before, and now you’re like, holy shit, what was I thinking?”

  I laugh. “This is the first time I’ve ever dated someone with a cat. Or cats. So yes, first time, but no, not dorky. I like that you care about them. That’s refreshing.”

  “What all girls like to hear. Your tea cozy collection is refreshing, Matilda.”

  “Matilda?” I laugh. “Is that a crazy cat lady name?”

  “Crazy tea cozy lady name. Jana’s a crazy cat lady name.”

  Fuck it. I don’t want to wait a week to see her. “Jana’s a crazy sexy name, and I’ll come to you.”

  “What? No. That wasn’t what I was angling for.” But she sounds pleased. Yeah, this was the right call. And still she protests. “You’re swamped with work.”

  “My work can travel with me. And I own a plane. It’s not a big deal.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “Jana?”

  “You own a plane?”

  “Two of them, actually, but one is currently being leased by a friend. So one at my disposal. And a helicopter if you prefer a noisier ride.”

  “I…” She makes a quiet little sound, like an incredulous almost-laugh. “Sure. Okay. I’d love for you to visit. I’ll polish my china.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Jake, I don’t own any china. All of my dishes came from Target—on sale.”

  “I hear they have good stuff.”

  “This is too weird. Dating a billionaire is kind of crazy.” Another laugh, this one smoother and lighter. “Okay, when do you want to come down?”

  I glance at my calendar. No time like the present. “How about this afternoon?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jana

  I had a long to-do list of stuff to get done before I went to New York, and fifteen hours in which to get it all done. Now I’ve got four hours, and I’ve got to do all of that stuff and get my apartment ready for a guest.

  I do a sprint tidy through the living room, bathroom, bedroom—new sheets, even if they’re from Target, too—then throw myself into the shower so my hair has time to dry before he arrives.

  Finally I get to my desk.

  He has work to do, too. He said he’d bring it with him. So maybe everything I was planning to do today doesn’t need to get jammed into the next…I look at the clock on my phone. Hour and forty-five minutes.

  Maybe I’ll spend the next hundred and five minutes picking out exactly the right outfit for Jake to peel me out of, and once we have sex again—loud, awesome, leave-marks-on-my-hips sex—then we can work side-by-side on my couch or in my office.

  The workaholic romance plan.

  I can’t wait to suggest it.

  In…jeans? Leggings?

  I dash back to my bedroom and fling open my closet. A dress. Easy access. I have a dark gray t-shirt dress with a great neckline. Yes, that’s perfect. I pull on lace boy shorts and a matching soft bra, then the dress. I look down at my feet and wiggle my toes.

  My underwear is teal with hot pink accents—super cute—so I pick through my sock drawer until I find my gray knee socks with the teal band around the top.

  Perfect.

  Now I have…an hour and thirty-seven minutes to not flip out from excitement.

  He arrives eight minutes early.

  “I have no delivery this time,” he says with a wicked grin when I fling open the door, and I throw my arms around his neck. I’m vaguely aware of him setting down a bag as he spins me around, but all I can see is him.

  He looks amazing and smells even better. He’s in jeans and a jacket, which I peel off him as he kisses me. Underneath he’s wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt that’s soft and molded to his muscles.

  I touch him all over, definitely crossing the line from petting to groping, but he feels good. And warm. And…hard.

  “Did you do something different with your hair?” he asks as he cups my head and nuzzles my neck.

  I giggle. “No.”

  “It feels wavier.”

  “I dunno.”

  “And soft…” He groans. “God, you’re so soft. And you smell good.”

  “I was just thinking you were deliciously hard, and smell good.” I tug his shirt out from under his belt. “This is a good combination.”

  “We are a good combination,” he rumbles into my skin. A thrill runs through me as his roving hands move down my hips and find the hem of my dress.

  Oh yeah, easy access was the right call.

  I’m breathless by the time his fingertips find bare skin. Breathless and dragging him backwards, I realize. Well, I’m walking backwards. And blind, because he’s kissing me again, his lips hungry and firm against mine.

  We bounce off the wall in my hallway. Maybe we should have stayed in the living room, but then the cats would have watched.

  No cats need to see what we’re about to do.

  His hands are on my butt again, squeezing over the lace first, then he tucks his fingers under the stretchy fabric and gropes my ass directly. His fingers brush along the crease between my cheeks and heat whooshes through me.

  I want to be naked, right now. I want Jake’s fingers on me, in me, now. I grab the front of his shirt and drag him the last few feet to my bedroom. “Close the door behind you.”

  He does just that, and pulls his shirt off in the next breath.

  Oh, yes.

  I climb backwards onto my bed, my dress riding up on my hips, and I leave it like that. Let him see my panties. Maybe he’ll get the grand idea to pull them off with his teeth.

  “I missed this room,” he says, one corner of his mouth turning up in an almost smile as he kicks off his leather boots. “Missed you in this room. Missed how wet you got for me.”

  My thighs shake. I’m so slick for him already. “Take your pants off. Please.”

  He laughs and does that, his jeans tumbling to the floor. He leaves his boxer briefs on—unnecessary, but he looks good like this, narrow hips and delicious muscles dipping into the black fabric. And the thick, straining bulge makes my mouth water.

  I reach for him, but he catches my wrists and presses them above my head as he climbs on top of me. “Your turn.” He catches my mouth in a searing kiss. “Let me get you naked, wild thing.”

  He lifts me up, him on his knees, me sitting in front of him, and he tugs my dress over my head. I know I’m not supposed to touch him, but that’s insane, because he’s right in front of me and so perfect.

  I stroke my hands over his muscled thighs, dusted in dark hair, then I lean in and kiss his hard, flat belly, where the veins stand out from the skin. Right above where his erection is tenting his boxers obscenely.

  Obscene is good. Obscene is big and hard and promises all sorts of achey stretching inside me.

  I get as close as giving him an air kiss before he’s pushing me back on my back.

  “Not naked enough yet.”

  “Neither are you.” I writhe against him.

  “I like your socks, though. You can leave those on as I fuck you.” He grins at me as he fits us together, his erection rubbing against where I’m shamelessly sloppy for him. But the grin drops off as I bring my legs up around his hips, and he lowers his weight onto me, his eyes going soft the last thing I see before we’re kissing again and the world starts to spin.

  Teasing aside, I really did miss him. This. And right here, in my bed, we’ve got unfinished business.

  The temperature jumps as his hands get busy, sliding my panties down my hips as we kiss, then he flips us around, pulling me on top of him. He effortlessly pushes me up so I’m straddling him, and whispers for me to take off the bra, too.

  I feel sex-drugged as I make a show of it, wiggling on top of him with my legs spread wide, showing him everything as I bare my breasts, too. As I fling it away, he circles my wrists with his fingers again and holds me there, perched on top of him, arms wide.

  And he look
s. He rakes his gaze up and down my naked body, slowly and hungrily. He looks so intently I start to squirm, but still he holds me there for his inspection. “Beautiful,” he whispers. “And all mine.”

  Whoosh. Flames lick up inside me. “All yours,” I murmur. “Every inch.”

  Like a panther, he flips me onto my back. He’s sleek and purposeful as he moves on top of me.

  Stroking me. He finds out just how wet I am, and he slicks that moisture up and around my clit, onto my pussy lips…everywhere. He touches me until I’m begging him for more, and then he ditches his boxer briefs.

  He fists himself as he climbs back between my legs. His cock looks huge in his hand, and I remember what it feels like inside me. My thighs shake again, but they go supple and hot when he rubs the head of his erection against my bare pussy. Oh, yes. The heavy weight of him against my clit makes me moan, and I lift my hips, eager for more.

  He grabs a condom from the bedside table, where I’d put a half-dozen in a cute ceramic dish, and then he’s pressing into me.

  “Every inch?” he asks, his voice rough as he squeezes my thigh. I lift my gaze to his and nod.

  Take me.

  He surges in, growling about how tight and hot and perfect I am. A girl could get used to this. Crazy hot boyfriend, hung like whoa, and super complimentary dirty talk.

  I reach for him, but he grabs my hands and pins me down. Yep, that works for me, too. He takes me hard and fast, each thrust reaching deeper into me until he’s stroking every nerve ending inside me on each pass, lighting me up as he slams home.

  The loose, achey desire inside me starts to pull together, gaining weight and speed as it swirls faster and faster, turning into a heavy, hard need.

  Each rolling wave of sensation as he pounds into me both satisfies and stokes that need. He makes me greedy for more, because with Jake, it always feels like more is possible.

  My breath catches as his pelvis rolls over my clit on the next hard thrust. He doesn’t miss my reaction, and he shifts his body weight so he can do it again more deliberately. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Are you close? Are you going to come for me?”