San Antonio's Finest Eligibles

by Tee, Marian

  "I'll take that as a no then," the older man answered imperturbably, and Logan could only grit his teeth as he watched Jim pick up the phone to call reception.

  Tilly was here, he thought.

  Tilly.

  The woman whose exquisite curves he had been unable to get out of his mind ever since he first laid eyes on her. The woman—-

  "Send her up, please."

  —-whom his executive assistant had just given the green light to present herself at his office.

  What the fuck?

  He shot a look of incredulity at Jim, but the damn man didn't even blink, continuing on in his placid voice as he confirmed permission before ending the call. He turned to Logan then, saying politely, "She will be right up, sir."

  Logan scowled at the older man. "You were supposed to get rid of her, goddammit."

  "On the contrary, sir - Mrs. Montgomery called earlier and said that I was not to let anything prevent you from meeting the nanny."

  "Mrs. Montgomery isn't your fucking boss,” Logan gritted out.

  But Jim was acting like he hadn't heard a single word the billionaire uttered. "If you'll excuse me, sir." He retreated from the room, his placid expression unchanging even as Logan threw a fulminating glare in his direction.

  Damn old man knew he could get away with just about anything, being Logan's first employee, one that had stood by him through thick and thin.

  Logan began to pace, unable to think of a single reason that could sensibly explain Harry's involvement. Like the nanny, Harry had married Devon through Heart's Match, so could that be it? Birds from the same mail-order—-

  The door opened.

  Shit.

  "Ms. Wakefield, sir." Jim stepped back to let the nanny come through.

  Her raven-black tresses had been tamed into a single ponytail, her mouth looked fuller and even more kissable than he remembered, and what the fuck was it with these dresses of hers? All of it seemed designed to make a man want to tear it off just to see her big breasts bounce free—-

  Shit. Calm the fuck down, Hardwall.

  She was just the fucking nanny.

  A nanny with his wedding ring, but still just the nanny.

  Just the fucking nanny, dammit.

  Good intentions, Tilly had to remind herself as she crossed the room to stand before him. She came here with good intentions - the very best, in fact - so there was nothing for her to worry about.

  Summoning a smile, she greeted him brightly, "Hello."

  "Hello." The billionaire's tone, on the other hand, was cool and impersonal, and Tilly's courage wilted a little.

  Husband, she reminded herself desperately. Even if the ink on the marriage contract had yet to dry, this alluringly beautiful man in his mind-bogglingly expensive suit was still her husband for the time being, and she mustn't forget that if she wanted her visit to come to something.

  Tilly took a deep breath.

  Take 2: Ready, set, action.

  "I texted you earlier," she began.

  "About Devon and Harry picking up Liam for his playdate with their son?" Logan inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I got it."

  "Oh. I was kinda looking forward to you texting me back."

  Her lower lip went out in what seemed like an unconscious pout, and the sight caught the billionaire off guard.

  "It would've made a nice souvenir," Tilly was saying, "since it's probably the only text I'll get from my husband."

  Logan's gaze narrowed at the way she made quotation marks in the air with that last word. "You're making it sound like we're on the brink of divorce."

  Tilly cleared her throat. "Well, about that..."

  The uncomfortable expression that flitted over her face didn't sit well with Logan, and he could feel his entire body coiling tightly in a tangle of restlessness and aggression as she started fidgeting and was for once unable to directly meet his gaze.

  "I've been thinking..."

  Of divorcing him.

  The words came out of nowhere, but with his guts having never been wrong before, Logan was grimly certain it was what Tilly seemed to be working herself up in a lather to speak of.

  Tilly, divorcing him.

  He knew she had no fucking money to pay the penalty if she were to renege on their contract, which had a strict clause for them to stay together for at least a year before calling it quits. But he also knew that Charlotte had come for a visit yesterday, along with Harry. That damn woman had always been the contradictory sort, and so she might've said something, might have even told Tilly that she would foot the bill if his wife wanted out for whatever reason.

  "This marriage..."

  If they divorced, it might mean never seeing her again. Of risking that she would find another man to date, maybe even marry, and her desirable little body would be for someone else to touch and possess, her virginity taken away by some other asshole—-

  "Fuck no."

  Tilly jumped in surprise at the way the billionaire suddenly and forcefully spoke. "No...what?"

  A deep flush underscored the sharp panes of the billionaire's high-boned cheeks as he saw the startled look on Tilly's face. He started to speak, thinking he would simply lie, say he was thinking of someone else, when he suddenly thought...fuck it.

  He had always despised men who resorted to pussyfooting when confronted by the truth. He had always thought them weak and spineless, and no fucking way was he going to be one of them, just because his wife had come here to talk about leaving him.

  "You've come here to speak about our marriage," Logan charged tautly. "Correct?"

  Tilly was dismayed. "How did you know? Did someone tell you?"

  "Forget about how I knew," he said irritably. "What does interest me is finding out what you have to possibly complain about—-"

  "No, no, it's not that!" Tilly vehemently shook her head, horrified that the billionaire would even think such a thing. "It's the opposite, actually," she explained in a rush. "Charlotte told me about your parents, you see..."

  Logan stiffened.

  "And I just..." Her hands moved in a gesture of unconscious appeal. "You've already given me and my sister so much, and after what I learned, I couldn't make up my mind if it was still right that I could continue as your wife—-"

  Her dark eyes were full of earnest entreaty as she gazed up at him. "I've tried to keep up with the news about you and your work since I found out—-" You were my husband, she almost said, but it no longer felt right. "Since I found out about you," she said lamely instead.

  A nerve began ticking in Logan's jaw. That last-second change hadn't slipped by him, and he fucking didn't like the way she seemed to have made her mind up about no longer thinking of him as her husband.

  "I know you're working on this super important deal," Tilly felt the need to admit, "and if we push through with the timeline we've set for our..." Marriage, she almost said but once again caught herself in time. "For our plans," she said instead, "It means that you'll have to introduce me as your wife by the time negotiation starts, and I..." She looked at him helplessly. "I don't want to risk messing it for you."

  Logan knew he had to speak at this point, but he was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the truth. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

  "I literally owe you my sister's life, and I could never thank you enough for that.."

  All this time he had been close to murdering someone at the mere thought of her walking out on their marriage, was she saying that he had been fucking worried...for nothing?

  "And that's why I had to come here and really talk to you about this. I want you to know that we don't have to stay married for me to take care of Liam. I already love him as he is, and I would be more than glad to be his nanny for as long as he needs me, and you can take your time looking for a more suitable wife—-"

  Logan finally snapped to attention at Tilly's mention of another woman.

  "I promise I won't make any trouble, and I'll sign whatever contract—-" />
  "Tilly."

  It was that tone again, and she reluctantly shut up. If he had been a little louder or ruder, she might have balked, but it was just plain impossible to go against someone so excruciatingly courteous.

  "You have it all wrong," he said finally. "You are suitable—-"

  Tilly shook her head again. "I know I'm not. I've been thinking about this really hard, and I've come to the conclusion that you've just been really good at hiding how kind and softhearted you are."

  Logan could only stare at her this time. Kind? Softhearted? Had the woman lost her mind?

  "You could've chosen another mail-order bride, someone less troublesome and costly, but you were fine with me even if I also came with a kid sister."

  Because Charlotte had told him he had no choice. It was either her or the gold digger.

  "You obviously have a thing for tall, leggy blondes, and since I'm none of those things, I'll never do it for you. But because you're just so nice, you would rather avoid coming home than tell me the truth."

  Unbelievable. Logan could only give her full marks for having such an overactive imagination. He had avoided coming home because of her; she was right about that at least. But it wasn't because he hadn't known how to tell Tilly he found her unattractive. Rather, it was the fucking opposite. He had wanted her too damn much, and he had been sleeping at his office all this goddamn time, trying to find a way to regain control over his body.

  Tilly tried not to feel too glum at the billionaire's continued silence, which she could only assume was an affirmation of her suspicions. "I'm right, aren't I?"

  "You're not."

  Her eyes widened.

  "But I guess there's only one way to prove it."

  Chapter Six

  Tilly hadn't any chance to say or think. In one swift, firm yank, the billionaire had already hauled her close, and she could only gasp as her body tumbled against his hardness, a shiver racking her own frame as his hands slowly swept down until he was cupping the cheeks of her ass.

  Logan squeezed them hard, something he had been imagining doing since he watched her walk away in his bedroom. They were as perfectly rounded as he had imagined, and he squeezed them again. Harder this time. Enough to make her gasp anew, and he didn't hesitate to take advantage, his head bending down as his tongue thrust inside her mouth.

  Oh. Dear. Lord.

  Tilly's grip on his hair involuntarily tightened as his tongue stroked and mated with hers in dark, hungry intent. Her breasts felt so heavy and swollen, and when he squeezed her ass again, she couldn't help whimpering against his lips as she felt a sweet, piercing pain draw her nipples out, its aroused tips so hard and pointed that when they brushed against the muscular wall of his chest, she couldn't keep herself from crying out.

  Tilly's cry of pleasure was the sexiest little sound Logan had ever heard, and it had his control slipping further away from him. He had never brought a woman to his office, had never been the type to mix business with pleasure. But with Tilly's sounds of pleasure still ringing in his ears, he realized he no longer gave a damn.

  The taste of her lips was intoxicating, and the innocently sensual way her body kept rubbing against him ignited a blaze that burned the last shreds of his control. His restraint, his resolve and common sense, it was all fucking gone, and every damn wall he had built around himself was burnt to ashes, until the only thing left was her.

  Tilly let out another tiny gasp when the billionaire suddenly lifted her up in his arms, and then she gasped again when he swept everything off his desk. Hearing various objects fall and crash to the floor - pens, papers, even his phone - made her feel increasingly lightheaded, but the idea of resisting didn't even occur to her as she felt the billionaire slowly lay her down on his massive desk.

  Their eyes locked with each other, and she felt her stomach drop at the hard glitter of lust in his eyes. He was looking at her like he wanted to fuck her long and hard, fuck her until he had torn her apart the way a devil would devour the sacrificial virgin laid on his altar.

  She should be scared.

  But she was not.

  And so she didn't look away even as his hand slowly skimmed her leg, starting slowly from her ankle before moving up inch by inch. Her knee. Her thigh. And finally, he had reached the hem of her lacy underwear—-

  Rip.

  Her breath caught at the telltale sound, and she couldn't help but whimper when he withdrew his hand, the scrap of lace between his fingers. Oh dear. Did that mean she was going home later minus her—-

  "AAAAAH!"

  Distracted as her thoughts were, she hadn't realized that his hand had moved back under her dress until it was too late, and he was already stroking her folds.

  "No—-" It was embarrassing to feel how wet and quivery her flesh was, and she instinctively tried pushing his hand away.

  "Don't." His voice was sharp and rough, the command in it unmistakable, and she saw his gaze blaze with satisfaction as her hands slowly fell away. It was easy to see that her submissiveness pleased him, and oh dear Lord, was it an unforgivable sin that seeing it made her want to submit even more?

  His fingers started moving again, leisurely stroking her folds all the while lashing her senses into a reeling, pulsing frenzy.

  A whimper spilled past her lips as her body started moving on its own, arching up as if it wanted to catch him unawares and have his fingers accidentally thrust inside of her.

  The sight was intoxicating, and Logan couldn't recall seeing a more erotic sight. His other free hand began to move, unzipping himself as he watched her writhe and whimper at the expert strokes of his fingers.

  "Logan."

  The sweet note of begging in her voice was too damn irresistible, and as he slipped his middle finger inside of her, he reached for his cock with his other hand, pulling it out so he could simultaneously stroke himself.

  Tilly couldn't stop writhing and moaning. His fingers were driving her mad. He was so good. Just so good. And...what was that sound she was hearing?

  Her dazed eyes drifted open, and her breath caught at seeing the billionaire masturbate while—-

  AAAH!

  He had slipped another finger inside of her without warning, and her body arched up at the strange, exquisite fullness of his penetration.

  In and out, his two fingers went, every thrust matched by the gripping strokes that had his cock swelling to a monstrously large size. It was a gloriously decadent sight, and she just couldn't stop staring, her gaze moving back and forth between the concurrent acts of pleasure: his fingers shoving in and out of her vagina and his other hand stroking his phallus.

  She unconsciously wetted her lips, and it seemed to do something to him. Because the next thing she knew, his fingers were thrusting deeper into her, so, so deep he almost broke past her hymen, and as a gasp tore out of her, his fingers thrust even faster and harder, while his other hand mimicked its speed.

  She could see his cock literally growing in his hand, and oh dear Lord, it was so big, too, too big that she couldn't even imagine it fitting her—-

  Her dazed eyes sought his again, and it seemed her gaze spelled out her unspoken question rather easily as a hoarse laugh escaped him.

  "It's going to fit, baby."

  Tilly felt like she was floating. Baby. He had called her baby.

  "And it's going to feel like dynamite."

  Three fingers pushed inside of her, and it was as he said.

  Dynamite.

  Her eyes rolled back.

  Yes. Yes. Yes.

  She started to cum, and soon, she heard him growling low in his throat. She forced her eyes open, saw the billionaire spending himself in his own hand, and the sight had her whimpering. Oh God. That he would cum just by watching her and touching himself...

  The thought had her body jerking, and she cried out as the inner muscles of her pussy tightened around his fingers. They made her feel so stuffed, and it would only feel even more wonderful if it was his cock inside of her the ne
xt time.

  Logan waited for the last tremors of her body to die down before carefully pulling his fingers out of her. It made a wet plopping sound, and his cock twitched, almost as if it couldn't help responding to every little thing about her.

  His fingers were wet and sticky with her release, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was already licking one finger, tasting her, just as Tilly's eyes drifted open. He saw her start at the sight, but he didn't stop what he was doing.

  Oh God. Tilly couldn't take her eyes off the billionaire as he licked his fingers clean, and she could only whimper as one last spurt of creamy moisture streamed out to line her still-sensitive folds.

  "Wait here," Logan murmured. After cleaning himself and zipping his pants close, he opened a pack of wet tissues to clean her. She was resistant at first, her reddened cheeks betraying her shyness and discomfort, and the billionaire's gaze glinted in warning. "Keep still."

  And she did.

  Tilly trembled the entire time the billionaire took care of her, and throughout it her cheeks just kept getting hotter and hotter. Fingers curled around her wrist when he was finally done, and she let him help her up to a sitting position without meeting his gaze. She could feel him watching her as she lowered her head, and she made a show of smoothing her dress back down her legs while trying to sort out her jumbled thoughts.

  Logan was doing his best not to overthink as he waited for Tilly to get over her embarrassment. Never mind if his entire life he had always been a strategic planner, the type that always focused on playing the long game and was twenty moves ahead in every situation -

  It just wouldn't work this time. Not a fucking chance. The most important reason his plans had always worked in the past was because he knew exactly what he wanted.

  And that was not the case at all with the mail-order bride he had bought.

  "So..."

  Logan was privately relieved when Tilly was the first one to break the ice, and he willingly set aside all his concerns as he focused on her. She still looked faintly troubled, and Logan couldn't help tensing. Was she still thinking of a divorce, dammit? Or maybe she would insist on her ridiculous idea of being just the nanny? Or possibly—-