Bought by the Billionaire

by Riley Love

  He stiffened and jerked behind me, while groaning against my ear. Hot, molten warmth flooded inside me in rhythmic pulses. Grayson raised one hand to my throat and chin, holding me in place against him, and dropped the other between my legs. He stroked his fingers across my swollen clit, granting the final push I needed to join him in climax. Pleasure shot through me like a lightning bolt.

  I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, breathless and sweaty against each other. Eventually Grayson gathered me up in his arms and carried me down through the ship to our stateroom, which was fine by me. I hadn’t come to hang out with his friends, and I wanted to treasure every moment of our time alone together.

  Because I knew it would be over all too soon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kelly

  At the end of our time in the Caribbean, Grayson surprised me with a first-class ticket home. I snoozed most of the way and woke once or twice to watch a movie and sip wine.

  Eager to see my family, I hurried outside onto the sidewalk with my luggage in tow and blinked at the sight of my mother emerging from our car.

  “Mom?”

  When I left Chicago, she’d been too weak to even keep up with the house, so my little brother and I had taken over cleaning. Now she was driving again?

  Before I could take a step, she rushed into my arms and squeezed me like I’d been gone ten years. “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too.”

  Before a security guard could approach to rush us away, we returned to the car, and she pulled off from the curb.

  “So when did this happen?” I asked.

  “When did what happen?”

  “You driving again. Mom, you look terrific.”

  Her hair was growing back again. She had eyebrows now and a fine fuzz over her scalp she covered beneath a cap this season to keep warm. Before the cancer, her hair had been gorgeous. Strawberry blond like mine and down her back.

  “I don’t know about looking terrific, but I certainly feel it. Are you hungry? Want me to stop somewhere along the way?”

  “Oh no. Definitely not. I had dinner on the flight.”

  “Dinner on a flight, eh?” She glanced at me again, with that suggestive, knowing mom look.

  “What?”

  “This boss of yours seems like a very nice man.”

  “He is. I didn’t expect to be home again so soon.”

  She nodded, brow wrinkled in consternation as she navigated traffic. The small talk between us covered everything from what I thought of London to Brian’s improving math grade. When we reached the apartment building, she reversed into our garage spot and killed the engine.

  And waited, seatbelt still on. I waited too. Something had to be on her mind.

  “Kelly?” Mom asked moments later, breaking the silence between us.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you pay all of our utility bills?”

  “Yes.”

  “How? Baby, the electric bill shows we have a ten-thousand-dollar credit. How in the world—”

  “The job has really good benefits and pay. He’s, um, sort of a stuck-up, ultra-private British man, and he really values hard workers.”

  Mom chewed her bottom lip. “Kelly, be honest with me.”

  “I am.”

  She opened her purse and took out her cell phone. A few clicks later, a photo of Grayson and me filled her screen. “I don’t know anyone who wears a bikini like this while working on the job.”

  My heart rate spiked. My mom didn’t even have a Facebook account, and my profile was locked down to friends only. “I accompanied him on a trip to the Caribbean, Mom. That’s all. I spent most of the five days in a stateroom working on the computer for him.”

  “His arm is around you.”

  “That’s kind of what you do when you’re taking selfies, Mom. The camera shutter on an iPhone isn’t that wide.”

  She pursed her lips. “Maybe. Just…be careful, okay? I don’t want some entitled snob taking advantage of my little girl.”

  “Grays—Mister—Lord Fernsworth,” I finally stammered out, “is not taking advantage of me. He’s a good man, Mom. I swear. I’m having a great time, and I’ve learned so much about marketing. I even made a friend—his cousin, Cate.”

  Mom’s brows didn’t relax. “Lord Fernsworth?”

  And then I realized my mistake.

  I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone his name at all.

  Shit.

  I sighed. “I signed an ironclad NDA, so please promise me you won’t share anything I say, Mom. Please. No one is even supposed to know his name.”

  “All right, but I don’t like keeping secrets. So please reassure me.”

  I bit my lip and hesitated, but the genuine worry in her eyes tore at me. She deserved to know something about him. Something real. “He’s a viscount. I don’t know much about how it works, but it’s not as good as an earl but better than a baron. He’s really down to earth though. A war veteran. He took a bullet for a friend and everything.”

  She listened, wearing her “I’m keeping an open mind” expression the entire time.

  So I told her a little more about Grayson’s character and professionalism. At the end, she nodded and flashed me a small smile. “I’m glad the internship is working out for you, Kelly. You don’t have to send us so much money though. That’s yours to spend.”

  “I know. But I love you guys, and I especially want to know you’re doing well without me.” I leaned across the console and hugged her tight, radiating in her warmth, and noticing at last that her fragile bones weren’t as prominent as I remembered. “Now can we go inside and see Daddy yet or what? I have gifts for all of you.”

  Mom cracked a big grin. “Gifts? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  We stepped out of the car, grabbed my suitcase, and moved to the door.

  “Interrogation over then?” I asked.

  She elbowed my ribs. “For now.”

  After a night at home with my family, enjoying movies with my parents and some video games with my little brother, I visited Leila at her apartment the next day.

  She attacked me at the door. “Tell me everything.”

  My friend wasted no time, as if she’d been waiting for me to show up so she could pounce and pick up the interrogation my mom had started. I hadn’t even closed the door yet.

  “Good to see you too. Not even a ‘Hi, Kelly, how was your flight across the Atlantic? You look good’?”

  Leila rolled her eyes at me. “Ha. Ha. Okay, fine, I’m sorry. Wow, Kel, you look amazing. Tell me all about your boring, eight-hour flight.”

  “In first class.”

  “Wow, look at you, living it up in the high life.” She smiled and pulled me down with her on the couch. Two glasses and our traditional amaretto were already set up on the coffee table. “I missed you, Kelly. Like, seriously missed you.”

  “You just missed my help packing your subscription boxes,” I teased.

  “Well, that too.” She chuckled and filled both our glasses. When she looked up, there was concern in her eyes. “You’re really okay, right? This Brit isn’t keeping you locked up or anything, right?”

  “If he was, do you really think he’d let me come home to tell anyone about his abuse?”

  “Belle seemed to have no problem returning to the Beast.”

  “True.”

  We both shared a laugh and a drink over that one. As much as I enjoyed London and my time with Grayson, being back home, being with my best friend, felt so good.

  “Speaking of subscription boxes, there’s something I want to do for you.”

  Leila’s brows drew together. “Huh? If you’re talking about helping with the next batch, you’re a little late. That shipped a couple days ago.”

  “And how close did you cut it to getting them done?”

  “I was up till, like, four in the morning, I guess. Why?”

  “Because I wanna invest in your business. Buy you an actual space and hire you
some help. You have more than enough customers to offer a third box choice now. You can stock up on more books, open up your subs to more people. Add some more specialty items. You could get those perfume imps from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab you’ve always wished you could add through their wholesale program.”

  “Kelly, I… You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t, but I want to. Leila, you’ve always believed in me, and you’ve always been there, even when times were hard. Especially when times were hard. And if you hadn’t pushed me to be brave and put myself out there with DDE, I’d never have been able to help my mom.” I took her hand and squeezed. “Besides, I thought maybe you and I could be business partners.”

  She squealed and threw her arms around me. “I love you, you know that?”

  “What are best friends for?”

  “You’re sure about this? I mean, what if your guy over there wants to set you up as a mistress or something? You're making great money, more than what my boxes would bring in.”

  “Trust me, I have enough put away to be comfortable for life. I don’t wanna be dating rich men with expectations for the long term. Grayson is… After him, that’s it. I’m just going on a few more outings with him, and then it’s over.”

  She studied my face. “Why do you sound so sad about that?”

  “Who said anything about being sad?” I looked away, using the excuse of taking a drink to avoid eye contact. She knew me too well.

  “Uh huh. Spill it, girl. If we’re gonna be partners, I need to know if you’re gonna be pining away over this guy who popped your cherry.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Kel, honey, this is me you’re talking to. C’mon.”

  “Grayson is great. He’s been amazing, really.” I sat back against the cushions and told her about all the events we’d been to together. As expected, she freaked out about my opportunity to attend Fashion Week, and then she went absolutely ballistic when I passed her the pink Hermès purse I’d bought especially for her. More gifts had been neatly tucked inside. I’d picked her up two dresses and a pair of heels.

  “I love you so much. Thank, you, thank you, thank you!”

  “Thank Grayson. He’s the one who put up with me dragging him around the showroom.”

  “Girl, is your pussy lined with gold? You must have blown his socks off. Only a man in love would put up with that.”

  “This isn’t one of your insta-love romance novels where the couple falls head over heels for each other after one bone, Leila. I doubt he feels the same way.”

  “Aha!”

  Dammit. I should have known she’d get me to slip up, but then again, what were best friends for?

  “You love him!”

  “I…I like him. A lot.”

  “Oh my god. Kel, are you two, you know, still having sex? Is he expecting it?”

  “No!” I lowered my voice and took another drink. “No. He hired me strictly for the public engagements. Gave me my own room in his penthouse and made it clear he didn’t expect anything I wouldn’t give.”

  “But you—”

  I rolled my eyes and fessed up. Leila would never give it up. “The sex is incredible, okay? That night in Berlin—it was…. Wow. Just wow. And then when I got to London, I dunno. I figured, why not? I mean, he’s hot. And he’s into me. I’m into him.”

  “He really is hot,” she agreed. “I mean, if it was me, I would have probably done the same. So what are you going to do when you return to London?”

  “I don’t know. We have a few more things scheduled, and then that’s it. He made it clear from the start he’d be keeping an eye out for a ‘proper’ girlfriend to replace me.”

  “Have you told him how you feel?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? I mean, if the sex is out-of-this-world amazing and he enjoys spending time with you, why not mention it? Then he can have you all to himself for free.”

  “Like I said, I don’t think he feels that way. The sex is great, but it’s not…romantic. He’s, uh, actually kinda demanding. In a good way, I mean, but it’s definitely a physical pleasure for him.”

  “Well damn.” She refilled our glasses. “Still, enjoy it while you can, I guess.”

  “I plan to. Now, can we stop talking about my sex life and talk about SweetBooks?”

  “You’re serious about it?”

  “Of course I am. You’ve worked so hard, and I want to do this. We can find an accountant or a lawyer and hit up the bank before I head back to the UK. Get it all worked out on paper.”

  We sat back and rambled out our ideas while watching a sappy rom-com we’d both watched a hundred times before.

  As I leaned to pour another glass of amaretto, my phone chirped with an incoming text. I glanced down at it.

  Miss you, kitten. Touch yourself for me tonight.

  Heat crept up my neck.

  “Oooh, is that him? You’re blushing.” Leila made a grab from my phone. In the same instant she snatched it from my fingers, it chirped again. Her green eyes went round as saucers, and she gasped. “Holy. Shit.”

  I grabbed the phone back. A very inappropriate picture dominated my screen—Grayson’s stiff cock in his hand and an accompanying text. Because I’m touching myself for you.

  “Girl, if you do not film yourself masturbating and send it back to him, I will end our friendship.”

  “Leila!”

  “What? It’s the obvious thing to do!” Leila shook her head at me and muttered something under her breath about me being hopeless.

  “I’m not going to send a sex video for him to show off to his pals.” Not that I thought he would. No, my Grayson was far too much of a dignified, refined gent to share anything I sent him.

  The truth was she was right, but not in the way she thought. I was hopeless. Hopelessly in love with a man who, in another few weeks, wouldn’t even remember my name.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grayson

  The days without Kelly dragged, a solid reminder of how unhappy I had been before she brightened my life.

  Friday morning, a week after we parted ways, Harry fetched her from Heathrow. I wanted to be there to welcome her home, but my lead developer in the robotics department had a presentation requiring Francois and me both.

  The moment it ended, I dumped my work in Francois’s lap and left the office early, eager to see Kelly and bask in her radiance. Being with her was a fucking drug, better than a hit of cocaine or shot glass of whiskey. I just needed to see her again.

  When I entered the penthouse, Kelly rose from the sofa and turned to greet me, one of my novels in her hand. “Welcome home.”

  “Maybe I should say the same to you.”

  She set the book down and crossed the floor to meet me halfway. It felt natural to pull her in close for a hug and even better to tip her face upward and kiss her, savoring the taste of her and hungering for more within an instant of contact.

  The moment my tongue parted her lips, she melted against me and curved her fingers around the back of my neck. She sighed against my mouth, wiggled close, and pressed against my stiffening cock.

  Groaning, I tore my mouth away from her.

  My little vixen was the worst kind of temptation, and resisting her became a fight because I wanted nothing more than to drag her into the shower with me.

  “As much as I’d like to finish this, my private jet awaits us.”

  “What?” Her unfocused eyes and breathy voice almost made me reconsider my plans. Almost.

  “Dinner in Paris, remember? Then, tomorrow, we attend an afternoon of watching the only sport that matters.”

  “The rugby championship!” Kelly pulled away and hurried to her room. “Gimme five minutes to pack.”

  Her enthusiasm lit a fire in my heart and soul. It hadn’t been the promise of touring Paris that excited her most but the opportunity to see a real rugby game. I only hoped that enthusiasm would last.

  Because I wanted to share my love
of the game with her, and none of my exes, not a single one, had ever given a damn about my interests beyond how fast I could share my bank account with them.

  The flight took hardly any time at all. Paris was old hat to me, but seeing the joy in Kelly’s face gave me a new appreciation for the City of Lights. I told myself I’d take her all around the world if it meant seeing her brown eyes filled with wonder and excitement.

  Jet lag took its toll and sent Kelly to bed within moments of checking in to our suite. I held her, watching her sleep and wondering how she’d crept so far under my skin.

  It wasn’t real. No matter how attached I grew to her, I had to remember it wasn’t real. It was an act, a role she played at my behest, and nothing more than a clever sham to keep my friends and family off my back.

  Her entire reason for even being here sat in her bank account back home.

  No matter how often I tried to remind myself of that fact, the truth was I hoped there was more to it. A foolish notion.

  Unless, perhaps, I could convince her to stay with me.

  Loud cheers echoed through the enormous stadium. Some associates had offered seats in their private VIP box, but I’d declined the offer, preferring to be down in the thick of it with the other fans. Kelly and I had prime seating at midfield in the lower section of the West Stand in Paris’s Stade de France for the Six Nation’s game between France and England.

  “So, which team are we rooting for? The ones in blue, right?” Her eyes twinkled. France was playing in blue uniforms.

  I scowled at her. “England, of course.”

  Laughing, Kelly leaned close enough to kiss my cheek. “You’re adorable when I irritate you.”

  “Shush and watch. Your American football has nothing on this, trust me.”

  Kelly’s brow wrinkled. “They’re not wearing padding.”

  “Not much, at least. A few of them likely wear thin shoulder pads beneath their jerseys. Helmets are optional in a game but only thin ones. Not those bulky, hard monstrosities Americans prefer.”