What He Needs: A New Adult Romance (My Alpha Billionaire)

by Tawny Taylor

  I reached for the door. This conversation was pointless.

  His face turned the shade of bleached linen. Then the color of a ripe cherry. He grabbed my wrists, holding me in place. “Where did you hear that?”

  “It was in Friday’s paper.” I pulled and my arms slipped free. I folded them across my chest. Now I wasn’t afraid of anything. I was hurt. And a little angry. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t given me the courtesy of a proper breakup. He’d just…disappeared. Bastard. “Regardless, I doubt anyone thinks I’m anything to you anymore, other than an employee. After all, that’s what I am now, right? An employee?”

  “No, of course not. You’re more than that.” Stepping between me and the door, he reached for me again, but I thrust my arms forward, shoving his chest hard. He stepped back, his eyes searching mine. “You mean…everything to me. I would die if something happened to you.”

  God, I was so effing confused. Not calling or speaking to me, that was how he showed me I meant everything to him? Bullshit. He was full of shit.

  “I have to go.” Unwilling to let him trap me, I circled around him, heading for the exit. “But don’t worry. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

  “How can you be so sure?” He stepped closer, forcing me to move back until my butt was pressed against the desk behind me. “How could you know nothing is going to happen to you? You don’t.” His gaze raked over my face. He was searching. For something. And then he kissed me. Hard. His tongue shoved into my mouth. I was so shocked I froze. I didn’t fight. I didn’t kiss him back. I just stood there, letting him kiss me, and tried to determine whether this was really happening or not.

  Long before my brain started functioning my body responded. My heart started thumping in my chest, sending rushes of hot blood blasting through my system. My head started spinning. My skin tingled as little electrical charges buzzed and zapped up and down my body. Within seconds I was on fire, and all I could do was hold on and ride out the storm.

  I felt him lift me at the waist and then I was sitting on something hard. The desk. He pushed my legs apart, and I didn’t stop him. I wanted him. I needed him. My tissues were wet and hot and swollen. I ached for his touch.

  “Please,” I whispered when he broke the kiss. My head fell back. I couldn’t hold it up.

  “Sssshhhh.” He licked and kissed a tickly path down my neck to my collarbone. “Oh God, Bristol. I’ve missed you.”

  I shuddered as I felt my clothes being pushed and pulled out of the way. My shirt unbuttoned. My bra unfastened. Big hands weighing my breasts, tormenting my nipples until they were aching little points.

  My skirt was pushed up, my panties torn at the crotch, and legs forced apart. His erection teased my tissues for a few agonizing seconds before gliding inside to fill me.

  It was ecstasy and agony, both. He was holding me again, taking command of my body just like he had before, and I loved how that felt. But every now and then something would click in my head and I would question what I was doing. Thankfully, the experience was too intense, the sensations too strong for those thoughts to stick. I was swept away in a tsunami of pleasure as his rod thrust deep inside, hard, fast, again and again.

  “Yes, yes,” I chanted as his hips slammed forward. “Harder.”

  He answered my pleas, taking me with a ferocity that had my teeth gritted and pulse racing. His teeth sank into the flesh of my shoulder, the pleasure-pain making my body even hotter, tighter. The first waves of a powerful climax pulsed out from my center, and I bit down on his shoulder to stifle it.

  He rammed into me several more times then jerked out, dragged me off the desk and forced me to turn around and bend over it.

  “You are mine, Bristol. Mine forever. Only mine.” Using moistened fingers, he tested my anus. His fingers slid in, the sensation so glorious, my eyes watered. He pistoned them in and out several times before replacing them with the head of his penis. For the briefest moment, the pain was almost unbearable. I squirmed. I cried. I whimpered. Then, as that pain morphed into ecstasy, I moaned.

  He knew exactly what my body needed. Only Shane did. Just as he knew exactly what my heart needed. As he pushed inside my tight hole, he bent over and whispered in my ear, “Marry me, Bristol. Be my wife. I won’t live without you anymore. I can’t.”

  My heart felt so light I thought I might take flight and soar to the stars. He loved me. He genuinely loved me. As the wild rush of my climax crashed through my body, I answered his proposal. “Yes, Shane. Yes.”

  As I quaked and shuddered, my body racked with pleasure so intense it was almost painful, Shane held me tightly, his erection smoothly gliding in and out of my spasming entrance. I knew when he reached his climax. His movements became jerky, his possession feral. His rod swelled within me as it filled with his cum. He growled, pumped deeply and spilled his seed inside me.

  Almost immediately, he withdrew his erection and eased me around. “Bristol,” he murmured as he gathered me into his arms. He held me there, one hand gently stroking my back. He kissed the top of my head. And I closed my eyes and enjoyed every second.

  Then reality hit me. Like a brick.

  Oh God.

  What had I done?

  Not only was I late to work, but I had just had sex in someone’s office. But, more importantly, I had just agreed to marry Shane. And I didn’t know if he was already married. And he was a total asshole sometimes. He was jealous. Controlling.

  What the hell had I done?

  Wriggling, I whispered, “I need to get to work.”

  “Nobody is going to fire you.”

  “There are worse things than being fired,” I answered as I tipped my head to button my blouse.

  He cupped my chin and lifted it. “Once we’re married, you won’t have to worry about things like that.” Brushing my hands aside, he took over the job I had started.

  A tiny chill buzzed through my system. Had I just made a huge mistake by saying yes? “What exactly does that mean, Shane?”

  “You won’t have to work.”

  “Maybe I want to work.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Already I was regretting my hasty, hormone-induced acceptance of his marriage proposal. When we were having sex, Shane and I worked. We worked perfectly. But once we stepped out of the bedroom (or dungeon), things got more complicated.

  If I’d just made the mistake of a lifetime, I needed to un-make it. Now. Before it was too late. But first, I wanted some answers. I wanted to know the truth. About everything. “I need to clear up a few things,” I said as I smoothed my skirt back in place.

  “Go ahead.”

  “First, I read you’re engaged to Alexis.”

  “The Tribune.” At my nod, he explained, “That’s a rumor. I’ve already spoken to the individual who was responsible for starting it. You won’t be reading any more articles like that one again.”

  Something made me trust him on that one, maybe because of the conversation I’d overheard. I suspected Alexis was the “individual” to whom he referred. “I also heard you were responsible somehow for your first wife’s death.” I tucked my shirt into my skirt and tried to smooth out the wrinkles.

  His lips pressed together, and I wondered if he would tell me the truth if it wasn’t what he thought I wanted to hear. I waited, a big lump collecting in my throat. Please, please, don’t let him say he killed her.

  “I was responsible. But not intentionally. I didn’t kill her. I ignored the warning signs. I didn’t take them seriously. My wife was struggling with depression. She committed suicide. She hung herself. I’ve always blamed myself. I still do, to a certain degree. She had told me she was going to do it, and I ignored her, thinking she was trying to manipulate me.”

  “Oh, God,” I whispered. The pain in his eyes was almost unbearable to witness. It was no wonder he’d been so afraid to be in a relationship again. To hold someone’s life in your hands…he didn’t know if he could trust himself. “I’m so sorry.”

  “My first wi
fe had a disease. I know that now. But it still doesn’t take away the fact that I might have been able to stop her if I’d taken her threat seriously.”

  “A lot of people make that mistake. You can’t keep punishing yourself for the rest of your life for that one mistake. An honest mistake.”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced. Perhaps he never would be able to forgive himself or trust himself. “Is that it? Have I answered your questions?” he asked as he fastened another button.

  I wished that was it. “There’s one more. God, I hate doing this—“

  “No. Ask me. Ask me anything.”

  “I heard you’re still legally married to another woman. Is that true?”

  His jaw clenched. “Who told you that?”

  Did it matter who told me? I didn’t want to risk anyone being fired. “I…overheard a conversation. I…don’t remember who. But it doesn’t matter. Are you married? Or not?”

  His jaw clenched harder. His lips thinned too.

  Oh God. It was true. My insides twisted into a one big knot.

  He shoved his fingers through his hair, mussing it. “That’s not exactly a yes or no question. It’s a little more complicated than yes or no, black or white.”

  More complicated? How? The way I saw it, a person was either married or not. Kind of like pregnant or not. There was no in-between or kind-of.

  I inched back, tried to put some more space between us. If my brain was going to function, I needed air, distance. Gently, I pushed his hands away, to finish buttoning my blouse myself. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “Okay. I’ll try to explain. I married a woman I met while I was traveling. The woman I married is a legal resident of San Marino. I am not. I’m a US resident. There was some conflicting information about which country’s laws we were being held to because I did not acquire residency of San Marino after marrying.” He took my hands in his and eased them down to my sides. For some crazy reason, I let him. He went back to buttoning my shirt. “But my attorneys have looked into it. They told me in the US the marriage is not legal. In San Marino it is.”

  What did this mean? I was so confused. How could he be married in one place but not another? “I don’t understand. Please, put it in plain English.”

  “Technically I am still married if I return to San Marino. But I have no plans of returning there.”

  “What about divorcing?” I suggested as I tried to piece all this confusing information together. “Couldn’t you file for a divorce?”

  “As the legal resident, the woman I married there must be the one to file. She won’t.” Having finished the last button, he tugged on the bottom of my shirt, pulling it out of my skirt again and smoothing it out. “There you are. As good as new. Except the panties. I’ll buy you more.” Placing his hands on my shoulders, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine. “I love you, Bristol. I love you so much it hurts. I tried to stay away. My life is so fucked up. I knew you’d be better off. But I couldn’t.”

  I didn’t respond. I wanted to say I loved him too. But something was clogging my throat.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it because I didn’t call or come over? I did that because I knew if I saw you again, I wouldn’t have the courage or strength to walk away.”

  I glanced at my watch. Ohmygod, I was over a half hour late. “I have to go.” I lunged for the door.

  “Don’t worry about the time.” He caught my shoulders and turned me around to face him. “No one is going to say a word to you about being late. If we need to talk, then we’re going to talk. This is too important to put off. This is more important than business.”

  It was. I didn’t disagree with that statement, but I couldn’t shove aside the worry that my coworkers were going to be furious once they found out the boss was covering for me. “We can talk later.”

  “No. Now.”

  “Shane, I’m an employee of this company—“

  “For now.”

  I didn’t like that. This was the second time he’d mentioned my employment being temporary. “Are you planning on having me fired?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” His hands skimmed down my arms, stopping just above the elbows. “You’re getting too defensive, Bristol. I love you. I want you to be happy. If that means working a job here, then you can continue to work. But I thought you might like to take a break. We could go away for a month or two, travel. Where would you like to go? Tell me. We can go anywhere...well, except San Marino, of course.”

  “I don’t know. For now, I’d like to go to work.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll call your manager and tell her you were in a meeting with me. She won’t hold it against you.”

  That didn’t ease my worries. Not at all.

  Chapter 8

  I saw him the minute I pulled up to my condo. In my car. My repaired car. It was amazing how quickly almost six hundred dollars worth of repairs could be finished. At that kind of hourly rate, I was thinking I needed to consider a career change.

  Speaking of change, my visitor was my brother, Branden. And he didn’t look like he had the last time I’d seen him. He looked clean. He looked healthy. He was wearing decent clothes.

  Had he finally turned his life around?

  He watched me get out of my car. When I came toward him he smiled. His broken tooth, the front one--fractured in a fight when he was drunk--wasn’t broken anymore.

  “Branden. What a surprise. You look great.”

  “Thanks. So do you.” He shouldered the wall as I unlocked my door.

  I motioned him in. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been sober for almost a year,” he said, sounding proud. He followed me inside.

  A year? In the past, a week would have been something to celebrate. “That’s great! A year. Wow!”

  “I feel really great, better than I have ever felt.”

  “I’m so glad.” I kicked off my shoes and headed to my bedroom to change. I lifted an index finger, and he nodded. In my room, I closed my purse in a drawer (an old habit from his hardcore drinking days) and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. When I came out, I found him standing in the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Nope. I was just checking out your place. It looks great. Weren’t the walls white before?”

  “They were. But I didn’t think you’d noticed.” I brushed past him, grabbed a frozen dinner out of the freezer and unwrapped it. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

  “No thanks. I just had something on the way over.”

  “Where are you living?” I asked as I ripped open the packaging for my gourmet meal. Mushroom tortellini. Yum. I hoped.

  “I’ve been at a long term alcohol treatment center up in Muskegon.”

  “I’m so happy to see you looking so well.” After sticking the little plastic tray of frozen noodles in the microwave, I opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of diet cola and offered it to my brother.

  He declined. “No thanks.” He motioned toward the sink. “But I’d be grateful for a glass of water.”

  “Sure.” I grabbed a glass, filled it with ice and ran the tap for a few seconds to give it a chance to cool down. Then I filled it and handed it to him.

  “Thanks.” He sat at my breakfast counter and sipped. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you, too.” I poured myself a glass of cola and sipped.

  He set the glass down with a light tap. “We do a lot of thinking in counseling. Thinking about what we’ve done, who we’ve hurt. I hurt you. A lot.”

  “It’s all in the past, Branden.”

  “I’m sorry.” Looking regretful, my brother shook his head. “I can’t offer any excuses. There are none for what I did.”

  “It’s in the past.” Talking to this man today, this healthy, sound-minded man, was so strange and thrilling. There’d been so many times when I thought it wouldn’t ever be p
ossible for him to get sober, let alone stay sober. He’d stolen from me, physically assaulted me, threatened me. All while intoxicated. And no matter what program he’d been on, he’d failed to stay clean for more than a few weeks.

  But now…had it really been a year since he’d had a drink? Or was he lying? I did another head-to-toe. No, he couldn’t be lying.

  “I’ve forgiven you,” I added, hoping I would never see him drunk again.

  He took another swallow of the water and smiled. For the first time in ages, I saw an attractive, intelligent man when I looked at him. Not a walking, barely functioning, pathetic disaster. “You’re a bigger person than me. Thanks.”

  The buzzer on the microwave rang, and I pulled out the warm plastic tray and stirred the noodles and sauce. It smelled pretty good. I hoped it tasted good too. With my finances being in ruins lately, I’d cut way back on my food budget, sticking with super cheap meals. This frozen dinner was a luxury, one I really shouldn’t have splurged on. “What brought you to this side of town?”

  “A job interview.”

  Carrying my expensive tray of frozen noodles, I took a seat next to him at the breakfast bar. “Great! What kind of job is it?”

  “The company is Professional Delivery. I’ll be working in the warehouse, sorting freight.”

  “Sounds really great.” I caught the look in my brother’s eye as I stirred my meal. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

  “Positive. Though that looks delicious.” He stood, his mostly full glass in his hand. “Thanks for the water.”

  Was he leaving? Already? He hadn’t asked me for any money. He hadn’t asked me for any favors. I couldn’t remember the last time we had just talked. “You’re welcome.”

  “I should get going. They lock the house after eight, and it’s a long drive back home. I don’t want to get kicked out.”