Beauty and the Billionaire Bad*ss

by Nicole Elliot

  I felt a rush of adrenaline shoot down my spine. “You know people are staring at us.”

  He nodded. “They always stare when I go out. And I guarantee our picture is already on every social media site.” He kissed me long and hard until I had to break away to breathe.

  “What was that for?”

  “If they’re going to take pictures, might as well give them something hot.” He winked at me.

  My heart was still pounding, and he had awakened that deep ache between my legs. I took another sip of the cold margarita. I tried to be casual and not look around at the cell phones snapping pictures of us, or listen to the whispers at the table one over from ours.

  “You really live like this?”

  “Always have. Growing up in a small town and being the first quarterback to take the team to state, it started early.”

  “And you don’t mind the invasion of privacy?”

  “Comes with the territory. If this is the price of winning, I’m okay with that.”

  I was stunned. I could think of lots of tradeoffs that would make this difficult.

  “Why is winning so important to you, Wes?”

  “Is there anything else?”

  I folded my menu in half and placed it on the table. “I hope so.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to lecture me on the meaning of life and how there’s more to life than winning a game?”

  “I don’t think I have to. You just told yourself.” The layers of ambition ran deeper in him than most men.

  “This is what I do. I win. I compete. And I don’t let anything stand in my way. You should know that now.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, now before…”

  “Before what? Before we go home tonight and you fuck me again like promised?” I was getting mad. I couldn’t help it. I was seeing his arrogant quarterback side. The side I had read about online.

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” He lowered his voice. “I was talking about this. Us.”

  “Oh. Us?” My tone softened. Was there an us? It had only been a few days since that night in his apartment.

  “I guess I need to say something, Doc. Ask you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need to know you’re not seeing anyone else.”

  “Me? You’re worried about me dating someone?” I almost laughed, but he looked dead serious and his green eyes were fixed on mine.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me.” He shook his head. “I need a straight answer.”

  “And what about you?” I knew I had every right to ask this question, but I didn’t know I’d get the truth. This was the man who never saw the same woman two days in a row.

  “Not since Saturday.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Wow.”

  He grabbed my hand. “Before Saturday doesn’t count. For either of us.” His gaze was deep. “I don’t want anyone else to have you.”

  “I’m not property. You make it sound like you can own me.”

  He traced the side of my cheek and my breath caught in the back of my throat. My body betrayed every word I said. I knew he owned me. He possessed my body. I’d give it to him as many times as he asked. So why was I playing this game?

  “We’re leaving.” He stood, pulling me up with him.

  “But we haven’t even ordered,” I protested.

  He threw a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the drinks and chips.

  “We can’t finish this conversation here.” He tugged me through the restaurant and into his car. He didn’t say another word as he whipped through the streets and parked in the garage under his building.

  “Wes, what’s going on?”

  He walked to my side of the car and helped me out, leading me to the elevators. He punched in the code for his penthouse and the silence filled the space as we rode to the top. So did the sexual tension. I could feel my body gravitating toward him. Needing him. Wanting him.

  As soon as the door closed behind us, he shoved me against the door, his lips furiously covering mine. I couldn’t keep up as his hand worked under my top, squeezing my breast, twisting my nipple. He spun me around, my hands splayed against the door as he pulled the jeans over my ass and past my knees.

  I was trembling and shaking, quivering with need. Whimpering as his hand slid between my legs.

  “You don’t think I own you?” His finger curled inside me.

  I closed my eyes. Oh God. I gripped him.

  His breath was hot on my neck. “Tell me, Lennon. Tell me to take you. Tell me you want me inside you. Tell me you are mine. You belong to me.”

  I panted as he dipped in and out of me. The passion built between my legs as he made me wetter with each perfect stroke, grazing my clit, then twisting inside my entrance. I could feel the control leaving my body as if he siphoned it from me.

  “Tell me,” he growled against my ear.

  “I’m yours. I’m fucking yours.” I sank on his hand. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t belong to anyone else,” I moaned.

  He bit along my neck. I leaned into his chest as his fingers slid in and out of me.

  “What are you doing to me?” I whispered.

  “Making sure you know who you belong to.” His fingers withdrew and I gulped for air. I kicked the jeans off my ankles, and stepped away from the door, turning to face him.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing his lips to me. He was so much taller that I stood on the tips of my toes to press my point. “I might belong to you, but do you belong to me?”

  His eyes closed and I could feel the hardness of his shaft press against my leg through his jeans. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him. But that didn’t answer my question. Physically, we always wanted each other. But I knew that it couldn’t keep going like this for me anymore.

  “Because that’s the only way, Wes.”

  I didn’t intend to have a relationship conversation. Not after only a few days. Not half naked. And not while I was ready to come. But at some point, my body had to let my brain have a say in this. And the deal was I would give myself to this man. I’d be his whore. I’d be dirty. I’d suck him, kiss him, please him. But only if he belonged to me too.

  “Are you giving me an ultimatum?” He pulled back to study my eyes.

  I shook my head. “No, I wouldn’t. I’m offering myself in return for you. I can’t be like this with you if you’re like this with other women. I swear I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m not like that. I-I just can’t think of leaving you and then you’re with someone else.” My words trailed off.

  It was a stab to the heart picturing Wes kissing one of his super models. Or taking her to bed and whispering in her ear the same things he said to me. It made my stomach turn. I’d rather walk away than know I wasn’t the only one. I couldn’t share what we had.

  “It’s never been like this with other women,” he whispered, dipping to kiss my throat.

  “Then tell me, too,” I urged. “You belong to me.” I knew I was risking everything. If he said no, I’d have to walk out this door, and I wouldn’t be coming back. All of it would be over. I’d start living life again like the girl I was before Wes touched me.

  His fingers slid between my legs again and I groaned. He fell to his knees and I almost stepped back. I almost told him his seduction wouldn’t work. I needed words. I needed promises. But his fingers felt so good, he held me in place, playing my folds with electric strokes. My hands ran through his brown hair. I needed him to steady me. He was knocking me off my axis again—like he always did.

  He looked up at me. “You fucking own me, Doc. I’m yours. Now stop talking so I can make you come.”

  His tongue plunged between my legs and I rocked forward, feeling the bliss wash over me. Wes Blakefield was mine. And he had the most perfect way of showing it.

  15

  Wes

  I looked at the physical therapist expectantly. “So, what do you think?”

  “I’d say it�
��s a miracle. I’ve never had a player recover from surgery so quickly.” He looked at my right hand in awe.

  I balled it into a fist and wiggled each finger.

  I grabbed a football from a basket in the corner and spun it in my hand. “Catch,” I called as I tossed it to him.

  He bobbled the catch, but laughed. “You had surgery two and a half weeks ago?”

  I nodded. I didn’t want to draw attention to the timeline. The rapid recovery would sound better if it weren’t so damn rapid. But it was what I needed. I had three days until the next game, and I needed medical clearance and my starting spot back.

  “So you ready to sign off on me?” I looked at him.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll sign off. But the AFA needs your doctor’s signature too.”

  “I know. Dr. Evans. I’ll get it by today.” The old man would want a few signed autographs for the family and maybe a few tickets to the game. But he would sign. My hand was practically back to a hundred percent. There was no reason to keep me out of the game.

  “Keep up with those exercises I showed you.”

  “No problem.” I had been keeping up with my running regimen and doing double duty on the physical therapy. I had pushed myself beyond the physical limits I had been told, but I proved them all wrong. My hand was ready for touchdown passes and spirals that would wow the crowd.

  I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Thanks,” I called out.

  Once I got Dr. Evans’s signature, I could get back to practice, and Cosech could sit his ass on the bench where it belonged. The hospital was my next stop.

  I tapped on the nurses’ station. “Hey, there.” I grinned.

  The nurse behind the counter looked flustered when she recognized me. “Oh my God. Wes Blakefield.”

  “Yep.” I leaned my elbows on the surface.

  “Are you here to see Dr. Ashworth?” She raised her eyebrows with a knowing look. Lennon and I had made it in the headlines. According to the press, we were practically engaged. Amazing what dating the same woman for two weeks could do for the gossip reporters. They acted like I was a tamed lion. Hardly.

  “Not this time. I need to see Dr. Evans about my paperwork.” Although I wouldn’t leave the hospital without seeing if Lennon was available. I knew she was in surgery most of the day.

  “Of course. He is your doctor.” She typed something into the computer. “Looks like he’s in between patients. I’ll page him.”

  I waited at the desk. A few seconds later, the white-haired man popped out of a lounge.

  “There’s our quarterback!” He beamed.

  “Yep. And I brought you a few things.” I held up a pair of tickets to Sunday’s game and a signed jersey. Just wanted to thank you.”

  “That’s not…” He took the gifts. “Tickets? My wife will be pleased with me.” He laughed. “I hear you need some kind of paperwork for the AFA.”

  “Yes. If you could sign off on that last set of documents, I’ll be waving to you from the field Sunday.”

  He scratched the back of his head. “Maybe we should find an exam room.” He looked at the nurse.

  “Oh, you can go in three.” She pointed.

  I followed the man and waited to show him my miraculous recovery.

  “Let’s take a look here.” He peered at my hand. “Can you make a fist?”

  I did as he asked.

  “Can you tap each finger to the center of my palm?”

  I followed the next instruction.

  He turned my hand over. “Any pain?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, I have to say, Dr. Ashworth is an amazing surgeon. I’ve never seen a recovery like this.”

  I grinned. “She is pretty amazing.”

  He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. “Yes, the hospital rumor mill said something about you two being an item.”

  “I think your rumor mill is accurate.”

  The man nodded. “Thought so. I wondered why she handed you over to me so quickly.” He laughed. “Doesn’t matter. She did the right thing. She has strong ethics and standards. And she is an excellent surgeon.”

  I wasn’t used to feeling pride for someone else. But I did. My heart almost burst with it. My little sex vixen was a fucking genius, and everyone around here knew it. I needed to do something for her.

  “You’ll sign off for me, won’t you?” I towered over the doctor, but I didn’t think intimidation was necessary this time. I had proven my hand functioned fine. I could play in the Sunday game.

  “Not a problem. The AFA and the Wranglers will be happy you’re back.” He handed the freshly inked document to me.

  “Thanks. Do you know if Dr. Ashworth is out of surgery?”

  He shook his head. “No, she’s probably got another two hours ahead of her, but I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll talk to her tonight.”

  We had a lot to celebrate. I had my medical clearance. And I owed most of it to the sexiest woman in this hospital.

  Lennon walked through the door looking exhausted. I threw a kitchen towel over my shoulder and shoved a glass of wine in her hand.

  “Here.” I kissed her on the neck.

  “Thanks.” She kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch in her scrubs. “I’m going to drink this and then take a shower.”

  I turned my attention to the pot of boiling water on the stove. I could make one dish, and Lennon was getting ready to try it.

  “So, I heard you caused quite the commotion at the hospital today.”

  “Really?” I poured in a box of pasta and set the timer.

  “Were you there for your follow-up physical with Dr. Evans?”

  “No, I got my clearance for the AFA.”

  She jumped from the couch. “What in the hell are you talking about? It’s not even close to six weeks.”

  I rotated my right hand in front of her. “Look, I’m fine. You’re an amazing surgeon. I’m ready to play.”

  “Play?” She choked. “You think you’re going to play with that hand? You’re fucking crazy.”

  I liked it when she said fuck. Such a dirty word on a pretty, luscious mouth.

  “Calm down. My doctor cleared me.”

  Her hands were on her hips. I knew that livid look in her eye. “I didn’t clear you.”

  “But you’re not my doctor, are you? You handed me off to Dr. Evans and he and my therapist have signed all the paperwork.”

  Before I knew what she was doing, she grabbed my right hand. I didn’t flinch. “Let me look at that.”

  She twisted it in front of her, drawing imaginary lines with her fingers between the bones. She made a cross over my knuckles and applied pressure at my fingertips.

  “And this doesn’t hurt you?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What did you do? This is impossible.”

  “Do?” I pulled my hand back.

  I had made the decision that I wasn’t dragging her into this. As far as she was concerned, she needed to think I was a medical miracle. The kind of man who could heal with the speed of The Flash.

  “Yes, what did you do? Best case scenario you had a six to eight week recovery period and then you would start rehab. We talked about it, Wes. This isn’t possible.”

  “Well, I’m fine. The hand works great. See?” I waved with all fingers and my thumb. “I’m lucky I had such a kick ass surgeon who could stitch me back together.”

  Her lips puckered together. “I don’t buy it. What are you not telling me?”

  “Let it go, Lennon.” I stirred the pasta in the pot. I miscalculated this conversation.

  She walked around the kitchen island. “I can’t. I know you took something. You did something. Who helped you? Where did you get it?”

  I shook my head. “Stop. Stop.”

  “How could you do this? How could you jeopardize your career like this? Your health? Do you even know what you took? The side effects?”

  “It’
s none of your damn business. You’re not my doctor, you made sure of that.”

  “Yeah, because you wanted to date me.” She stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To take a shower.” She slammed my bedroom door in my face, but I walked in after her.

  “Take a breath, and calm the fuck down.” It was the wrong thing to say. I knew it when she pivoted toward me, blue eyes blazing.

  “I’m trying to get some space. I’m trying to calm down, but you’re following me. I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

  “How about that you’re happy my hand works?”

  She scowled. “If the AFA finds out that your medical miracle is really medical intervention, are you still going to have that smug look on your face?”

  “It is a medical miracle. I had an excellent surgeon.”

  “You’re sticking to that ludicrous story? Really?” She walked into the bathroom, throwing her top on the floor and wiggling out of her pants. She turned on the water.

  “It’s what happened. I’m playing Sunday and I want you to be there.”

  She opened the glass shower door, closing it so there was a barrier between us.

  “I might have to pick up a shift on Sunday.”

  I studied her in the shower. Her beautiful skin glistening under the running water. Her breasts dripping. My favorite slice of heaven between her thighs guiding the water down her legs. I licked my lips.

  I reached for the handle, but she stopped me. “No. You’re not coming in here.”

  “Come on, Doc. Stop being so pissed. I just asked you to sit in my box on Sunday. Aren’t you going to give me an answer?”

  “Right now, I am going to wash my day off of me, and that includes your insane idea to pretend that I don’t know the real story behind your recovery. I don’t know if I’m more angry that you did it, or more angry that you’re lying to my face.”

  It hit me in the gut. I knew I was a liar. I knew I would cross lines. I crossed them all the time. But to have this woman, who I craved like nothing else, throw it in my face, gave me a jolt of reality. My lies never affected other people, and all of a sudden, I realized they did.