by Tee, Marian
"Do you think people would be able to tell I don't have any undies once I walk out of your office?"
Chapter Seven
Stick to the timeline. You're still the nanny. I'm still the boss. Or at least that had been the plan. But then he saw the way his male executives were staring at Tilly like she was the pièce de résistance of a ten-course meal, and Logan thought, Fuck the timeline.
Since the billionaire had made no efforts to silence Tilly's cries of pleasure earlier, and Tilly herself hadn't been the type of lover to just lie back and think of England, he had no doubt that every employee working on his floor knew what took place the moment the door to his office closed behind Tilly.
That such a thing happened in the first place had probably come as a shock, considering Logan's rather notorious rule about not letting any of his former mistresses step foot inside any of his company offices. It was fairly easy to see that his employees were itching to find out what made Tilly different, and it was just as obvious that they were wondering if the very nature of her employment had anything to do with Tilly being the exception to the rule.
Was she the nanny before she became the boss' lover, or was it the other way around?
What did the billionaire see in her that they didn't - or was she simply that good in bed?
How long was the billionaire likely to keep her - and might they have a shot once she was single again?
Logan's entire vision was fast turning a murderous shade of red. Over my fucking dead body, assholes.
Tilly almost lost her footing when the billionaire suddenly slipped a possessive arm around her waist as they headed down the elevator at the end of the hallway.
Logan saw Tilly's startled look and tried not to look defensive as he shrugged in response, saying offhandedly, "I didn't want anyone to notice."
Tilly blinked. "Notice what?"
"That you don't have—-"
Realizing what he was about to say, Tilly simply acted without thinking, nearly stumbling in her haste to tiptoe and cup her hand over his mouth. Oh my God, what was he thinking, declaring the state of her underwear (or lack thereof) out loud like that?
Her horrified gaze flew up to his, and that was when she saw the sexy little smirk playing on the blatantly sensual lines of his lips.
Tilly choked back a laugh, realizing he had been pulling her leg.
"You jer—-" And then she remembered where they were, and she hastily backtracked. "You just say, um, the most embarrassingly sweet words, Mr. Hardwall."
Amused approval gleamed in his eyes even as he reached to gently pull her hand down. "Interestingly enough," the billionaire drawled, "an embarrassment is also what you might be suffering from if this isn't remedied." His other hand lazily drifted over her back as he spoke, settling down a moment later just a few inches over the hem of her dress. The hem, which had sneakily crept up when she tiptoed and was now dangerously close to flashing her butt in front of the dozens of executives making up Hardwall Industries' highest management tier.
OH MY GOD!
The billionaire chuckled softly at the flare of panic in her eyes. "Relax, babe. I've got you." His hand subtly smoothed the dress down at the same time Tilly slowly and carefully rocked back to her heels, and she nearly slumped in relief when the moment of danger finally passed without her butt suffering any visual casualties.
"Thank God that's over," she told him feelingly as they resumed walking,
"And?"
Huh?
"I'm still waiting," she heard the billionaire murmur languidly, and Tilly shot him a bewildered glance. Waiting for what?
A saintly smile unfolded over his lips, making him appear boyishly good-looking for an instance.
But then he said—-
"For you to grovel in gratitude, of course."
A choked laugh escaped Tilly even as she came to appreciate the undeniable truth behind the most common of proverbs. Leopards could never change their spots, devils could never hide their horns, and such was the case with Logan Hardwall, who, despite what his utterly urbane appearance implied, could never be trusted to play the gentleman.
"Just to be clear—-" Tilly waited until they were inside the elevator before turning to the billionaire with lips prudishly pursed in feigned censure. "I'm holding you completely accountable over what happened. If you hadn't threatened to speak about certain unmentionables—-"
Logan smirked. Unmentionables? Hadn't that term been retired a couple centuries ago already?
"There wouldn't have been any risk of exposure in the first place, and so to answer your question—-"
"I didn't actually ask anything," the billionaire pointed out.
She ignored that, saying, "No, Mr. Hardwall. I am not going to thank you."
"Because of what I did earlier?"
"Yes."
"Which you considered something only a jerk would do."
"Your words," she said primly, "not mine."
"But it's essentially what you're saying."
Her shoulders moved in a delicate shrug.
"Since you already think I'm a jerk," the billionaire drawled, "then I might as well act like it, don't you think?"
Tilly was bewildered at first, unsure of his meaning, but when the billionaire actually bent down to reach for the hem of her dress, and she realized he was threatening to flip it up -—she let out an incoherent sound, something between gasping, laughing, and squeaking.
Logan Hardwall really was a jerk, but God, he could be so cute about it!
"I give up! I give up!" Tears of laughter burned her eyes as she found herself actually swatting his hand away and stepping back to prevent him from reaching for her skirt again. "You have my undying thanks, o Great and Generous One. Happy now?"
In answer, the billionaire had the gall to look contemplative, like he was seriously considering having Tilly go down on her knees as well. Outrageous, incorrigible man. But rather than feeling furious or offended, she was painfully conscious of how this rare glimpse of the billionaire playing a roguishly charming knave had her helplessly entranced.
Everything she read about Logan Hardwall had painted him as this courteous but intensely private man who liked to keep everyone at a distance.
He was supposed to be all about the money, and even her newfound friends had warned her of the same things. Cold. Aloof. Someone who thinks his wife must be an asset to his business. Or, in this case, the kind of man who saw nothing wrong in buying himself a mail-order bride who was desperate enough to be at his beck and call.
And then there was the thing Harry wrote to her about Logan. I think he has the saddest eyes, so perhaps...you're the one to make him smile?
And yet, things had somehow ended up the other way around. In the few times Tilly had been able to spend time in his company, it was Logan himself who kept making her laugh, alternating as he did between his dry sense of humor and a bluntly acerbic talent for banter.
When they were together...
He never seemed sad, Tilly realized, stunned. Irritated. Stunned. Chagrined. Aroused. The list went on and on, but not once had he appeared sad.
Logan caught sight of the odd glance Tilly threw his way as the elevator doors opened, and she stepped out after him. "What is it?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
Like hell that was true, Logan thought. When those words were spoken, there was always a catch. It was a fact of life, and smarter men had simply learned to be on guard every time a woman would say nothing was wrong.
With Tilly seated opposite the billionaire inside the limousine, she made sure to keep her legs together, not wanting to accidentally reveal even the tiniest flash of her private parts.
Classic example of locking the barn after the horse had bolted, she couldn't help thinking with a wince. But even so. Memories of how he had so expertly pleasured her (and pleasured himself while doing so) were now as surreal as they were vivid, and it seemed even more of an illusion now, with the billionaire taking a call on his mo
bile phone...in what sounded like Dutch?
He was just so completely out of her league, she thought forlornly, that she literally felt obnoxious for merely considering the idea she could be different from all the other women.
But...
But...
But...
What about what Harry had said?
He had never appeared sad to her, not even the tiniest bit.
And it all boiled down to why that was so, Tilly realized.
If she had been the hopelessly romantic type, she might have thought this meant he was falling in love with her. But since she was not, and she had always considered herself as an optimistic realist...
Maybe it was something else...like lust?
Tilly nearly jerked in her seat at the thought.
Could that be why the billionaire insisted on keeping her as his wife, even if he could afford to pick one a thousand times more suitable?
She tried to imagine how things would turn out if she asked him outright about this and had no trouble conjuring the outcome: an automatic denial, regardless of whether it was true or not, because any kind of attachment was to be considered a weakness.
And she couldn't exactly blame him for thinking that way, considering how his parents' marriage had ended in a tragic mix of infidelity and death.
The only way to get the truth out of him was to catch him off guard, Tilly concluded with a silent gulp. She had to create some kind of scenario or situation, something that would force him to betray himself—-
A mad rush of adrenaline, brought about by a combination of anxiety and stubborn determination, had Tilly throwing caution to the wind.
Carpe diem, Wakefield!
And so the moment the billionaire finished his call and turned to her, she didn't even let herself think. She simply acted, her legs opening wide under her dress, wider and wider that she was sure the billionaire could see all the way to her deeply mortified soul.
"What the—-"
The billionaire audibly sucked in his breath.
And that was when she saw it.
The instant flare of hunger in his eyes. The sudden stiffening of his powerfully muscular body. And most of all, the immediate, unmistakable bulge under his pants.
OH MY GOD.
The unthinkable was real. By some strange design of fate or the divine, or maybe it was even both, considering how incredible it was that Logan Hardwall, SAFE's last billionaire bachelor and the man whom every cowgirl wanted to lasso into marriage - oh, how could this be?
How could such a man like him be sexually obsessed with a girl like her?
But on the other hand...
She had never been the type to look at a gift horse in the mouth, so why start now?
Chapter Eight
Blood rushed all the way up to Logan's head as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Most beautiful pussy he had laid his eyes on? Yeah, that was a given. But the question he was finding impossible to answer was why.
One moment, she had her legs locked more tightly than any chastity belt and visibly making an effort not to show anything that would've warranted censorship on national TV. And then the next moment, she had just opened her legs without warning, and he was immediately transported to nirvana.
Even with the few feet that separated them, Logan had no trouble discerning the silky wetness of her folds and the faint trembling of her legs.
So fucking hot.
And he could no longer hold himself back.
Tilly jumped in surprise when the billionaire slammed a hand down on one of the side controls, and a moment later, a privacy panel slid into place, effectively hiding them from the chauffeur's view.
Their gazes clashed, a dangerous glitter in his eyes, but she didn't let herself look away.
Logan strove for control as she remained still and silent in front of him, with her beautiful legs still damn open. "Don't play games with me, Tilly," he said harshly.
"I'm not." Tilly awkwardly and self-consciously snapped her legs closed upon realizing that the billionaire was more hell-bent on finding answers than pouncing on her.
"Then what's this about?" he demanded.
"I just wanted..." She swallowed hard. "I wanted to know how much you want me. I needed to see if you wanted me enough," Tilly reluctantly admitted, "to still keep me as your wife, regardless of how unsuitable—-"
"We've gone over this already," Logan bit out impatiently. "You're not unsuitable—-"
"Yes, I am—-" But seeing that the billionaire was more than willing to argue the point, she hastened to forestall him, saying assuringly, "But it doesn't matter anymore."
"It...doesn't?" Logan was beginning to feel a bit of mental whiplash, with how she was jumping from one topic to another.
Tilly shook her head. "I know you don't have any reason to believe me, but when I applied to Heart's Match, I really was hoping for a marriage that wouldn't just be a business transaction. I know it's old-fashioned of me, but marrying for money, even if it meant saving my sister's life..." A grimace touched her mouth, and she ended stiltedly, "It would've been hard for me to swallow, just that."
Logan slowly reached to loosen his tie, which had started feeling like a noose tightening around his throat at Tilly's words. Maybe he was being a little too paranoid and cynical here, but were all these words simply leading her to confessing something stupid, such as believing that their marriage was a love match?
"When I read about Charlotte's offer, I honestly thought it was a fair trade. You'd save my sister's life, and I'd raise Liam like he was my own son, and you'd never have any cause to worry over his upbringing." Tilly bit her lip. "But then we met, and when you stayed away for so long afterwards, and I found out about your parents...the marriage no longer felt right."
Logan was starting to experience whiplash again. What the fuck was she really aiming to tell him? Did she want out of this marriage or not?
"You intend to honor your dad by constantly striving for the top. I respect you for that, and with everything you've done for my sister and me, the least I can do is ensure that I'd never be a hindrance—-"
"Tilly." Logan finally had enough. "Just say what you fucking want to say."
"I'm trying—-"
"Are you gearing up to tell me you want out?" he growled.
"No!"
Relief slammed into him, but Logan strove hard not to let this show. "Then you still want to stay."
"Yes."
"Then that's all that matters—-"
"Because I get it now," she said at the same time.
Logan stopped speaking. Don't ask. Because he had a feeling he wouldn't like what he'd hear in answer. Don't fucking ask. But in the end, he still heard himself say, "Get what?"
Tilly tried not to squirm. "You know."
He really wasn't going to like this, Logan thought. But he still answered her, anyway. "No, I don't know."
"You want me," Tilly blurted out. "You really want me, for whatever reason, and while I don't understand why that's so, I'm not going to complain." By now, Tilly's face felt fit to burst, and she could no longer meet the billionaire's gaze. "I just want you to know, I promise to do my very best to always satisfy you that way. I mean, for as long as you want me, that is. So if you do stop wanting me, I'll respect that, too, and we'll just, um, cross that bridge when we get there. But for now, that's where I'm standing so..."
Logan's mind was reeling. Jesus. "You're basically saying you're only able to stay married to me if it's a...fair trade? That's the term you used, right?"
"Yes and yes."
"And you think the responsibility of raising Liam isn't enough."
"It really isn't."
"But then you realized you had something else to offer."
Tilly nodded.
"Which is that you've figured you're my sexual obsession."
"Even I know how crazy it sounds," she muttered. "But then I thought about Eva Braun actually finding something to love in Hitler, or all th
ose women who somehow fell for Charles Manson—-"
"You're not exactly helping your case," he interjected dryly, "by comparing yourself to mass murderers and cult leaders."
Oops. An expression of sheepish apology crossed her face. "Sorry." She fidgeted in her seat. "But I didn't get it wrong, did I?"
"About what?"
She made a face. "You know."
He smirked. "Surely you can do better than that."
Tilly smothered a laugh. "You really are a jerk."
"I'm still wai—-"
Tilly, feeling suddenly reckless, opened her legs in answer, and a choked laugh escaped her when the billionaire swore under his breath.
"That isn't exactly the reaction I was—-ah!"
He had moved so suddenly, Tilly didn't even have time to process things. He was just there out of the blue, going down on his knees as he gently pried her legs open.
Oh God.
His head went down, and her head fell back the moment his tongue lined her quivering folds.
Oh. My. God.
She reached blindly for something to hold on to, and her fingers eventually found their way to his hair.
His tongue thrust inside of her, and she cried out again, her fingers tightening its grip.
Soooooo gooood.
He tongue-fucked her relentlessly, not even giving her a second to catch her breath. All she was able to do was feel and tremble as the pleasure started to tighten inside of her.
Oh God, oh God.
Tighter and tighter, and she could only gasp and shudder. Any doubt she had left of his desire for her was completely annihilated by the way the billionaire was eating her pussy with such ferocious dedication. It was almost as if he was an addict, and she was the drug he couldn't get enough——
AAAAAAAH!
The billionaire had pinched her clit hard while his mouth continued to wreak havoc, and its effect was instantaneous: a wildly exhilarating and exquisitely agonizing freefall into orgasm, and she could only squeeze her eyes shut as her body started to convulse.
On and on it went, and it was just so good, oh God, it was just sooooo gooood, that she couldn't even find the energy to open her eyes as she felt the billionaire gently pull her off her seat and guide her to her knees.