Billionaire's Valentine - A Standalone Novel (A Billionaire Boss Office Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #7)

by Claire Adams

  I felt him slow down slightly and move above me. I wanted to plead with him not to stop, but the words died in my throat.

  His fingers firmly massaged my clit as he continued to fuck me. I cried out, feeling him play me like an instrument. I wasn't going to last much longer, not if he didn't stop touching me. I felt my body seize as I came. White light shot behind my eyelids, and I felt a flood of hot pleasure seep into every neglected part of me from my core.

  He quickened his pace, fucking me with hard, short strokes before he finished, as well. We were still for a while afterwards. The wind was cool on my heated skin and I missed the feel of his large body over mine when he finally moved, sliding out of me. He asked me whether I was okay before he told me to start getting dressed as he got rid of the condom.

  He offered to drive us back. I was a little unsure, but let him since I wasn't that sure sitting in the car with him after that wouldn't drive me to distraction. He got through the craggy, unpaved section near Keahiakawelo fairly quickly and followed my directions, getting on the road that would get us to the hotel. I folded my legs up on the seat and watched the darkening landscape go by us outside.

  "Abby?" he said.

  "Yeah?"

  "Was that your first time?" he asked. Valid question, I suppose. I felt sore from the vigorous activity after such a long drought. Not a bad sore. Like a satisfied sore.

  "No. It's just been a while since I last...you know," I said, looking over at him. "Was it your first time?" I asked him. He laughed.

  "Definitely not," he said.

  I peered back out the window. He was twenty-seven; of course, he wasn't a virgin. He'd been married before. It wasn't a big deal. We had just... It had just felt right so we had done it. We were two people who were attracted to each other and we did something about it.

  I sighed. How many other girls did this after sex? I didn't want to spend so much time dwelling on it, but we had just changed everything between us. He still wasn't leaving the resort for a long time. Had he come to Hawaii intending to have a relationship with someone? Was I his summer fling?

  I felt a little gross thinking about it. Oh God, were there employee rules about this that I was breaking?

  What was this in the first place? It was probably nothing. It was just something that had happened and now that it had, we could make the decision to keep it in the past and move on. I wanted to help him with his addiction. I was pretty sure my vagina had nothing to offer him as far as his recovery.

  Our shift was over, so Makani wasn't at the front desk when I entered the lobby at the end of the day. Nate was, though.

  He was standing there talking to Stephanie, one of the girls who did nights; he hadn’t gone right to his suite. I had taken my time making sure the car went back and had hoped I’d be able to get away with not seeing him again that night. I said hi to Stephanie, walking past the desk.

  "I had a good time today," Nate said to me.

  "I'm glad," I said shortly. "Have a good night, Mr. Stone."

  "You're not coming up with me?" he asked. I blushed furiously. Stephanie was right there. What was he doing?

  "Did you have a problem with your suite, Mr. Stone?" I asked.

  "I wanted to get it looked at today. Maybe housekeeping took care of it. I still think you should come up with me and have a look," he said seriously.

  "If there is a problem, I can come look at it, sir. Abby's not working right now," Stephanie added helpfully.

  "No, I'll do it," I told her. I looked at Nate and started towards the elevator. The door closed, and I felt like he was laughing at me. Had he done that on purpose?

  "I thought I asked you to stop calling me Mr. Stone," he said.

  "I'm sorry. I got a little flustered when you asked me to come up to your room in front of one of my colleagues." He chuckled. At least he found this amusing.

  "Are you ashamed of me?" he asked.

  "No, but I work here. I like to keep my private life private."

  "Like what you go to do alone at Polihua Beach?" he asked. The doors opened and I stepped out ahead of him.

  "Yeah. Like that," I said quietly. We got to his door, and he took his time opening it up. I watched him doing it, realizing how calm he'd been the entire day. He'd even driven. His hands weren't shaking, and he hadn't broken out in a cold sweat.

  "Thanks again for taking me out today. I know it isn't your job, but I'm glad I get to see the island with you," he said sincerely. I nodded.

  "Don't mention it. Hey, maybe getting out more will be good for you. You didn't get the sweats once," I said lightly. He smiled.

  "You're right," he said. "Where are you going right now?"

  "Home. I have work tomorrow."

  "Stay here with me. You don't have to go all the way home."

  "I live just past the luau grounds on the beach; it isn't that far a walk at all."

  "Abby," he said, taking a step towards me. He cupped my face and tilted it upwards so he could kiss me. "I want you to stay," he said.

  Stop reading into this, Abby; he's just being nice, I thought. No, he just probably thinks it will happen again. Even if he does, what's wrong with that? It's not like I don't want the same thing.

  "Okay," I said quietly. He let me in and closed the door behind me. I put my bag down near the door and turned to look at him.

  "I have to leave early tomorrow morning for work."

  "That's okay, stay here now. Are you hungry?" he asked.

  "I am – starved, actually."

  "You can go have a shower; I'll get us food," he said. He peeled his shirt off and walked into the bedroom. What on earth was happening? He needed to be careful of what he was offering me because I needed to know what was going on here.

  There were two bathrooms in the suite, so I used the one that wasn't in his room. I had a quick shower, washing my hair. I stared at my reflection in the foggy mirror after.

  I avoided this – getting involved with people this way – because I wasn't willing to let someone have my heart at their disposal to do with whatever they wanted. It had only been a few hours since we were at the beach together, but it had probably been building the entire day.

  I knew I said I was going to help him, but maybe he had misunderstood what I meant. Maybe I had misunderstood what he had meant letting me do it. He had kissed me and asked me to stay the night, but just because those things had happened didn't mean that they had to happen again.

  I wanted them to, but that was less important than what I had promised him on the beach. A knock on the door broke me out of my reverie. I wrapped myself in a towel and opened it, seeing Nate. He held something out to me.

  "Here," he said, "I know you didn't carry any extra clothes with you." I looked down at his hand. It was a gray t-shirt. One of his. I took it gingerly.

  "Thanks."

  "Come on out when you're done. The food's almost here."

  I agreed and closed the door, walking back to the mirror. I knew I hadn’t been with a lot of guys, but I wasn’t a child. If he didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be. If sex had been all he wanted, then he’d already gotten it. He didn’t need to have me around any longer if I’d already served his purpose for him.

  I pulled the t-shirt over my head. It fit me a little bigger than the ones I typically wore to go to sleep. I walked out slowly and looked around the living room. He was in there, wearing boxer briefs and nothing else. He smiled when he saw me.

  “I got you the same thing I got, American burger and fries. I hope that’s okay,” he said. He was pulling the cloches off of hot plates of food.

  “Nate,” I said, “you don’t have to do any of this. What happened between us doesn’t have to change anything.”

  “Are you seeing someone?” he asked me.

  “I’m not. That isn’t it. I want to help you, and I like spending time with you. I don’t expect anything in return. I just want to see you well again,” I said, tripping over my words.

  “I don’t want to ma
ke you uncomfortable. I’m not going to ask you to stay here with me if you really don’t want to, but I want you, Abby,” he said.

  My breathing slowed. Was it really that simple? He wanted me? But he was leaving. How could he tell me that, knowing that in a couple months he’d be back in LA and I’d still be here?

  “Just stay with me, Abby,” he said, insistently. So what if he was going? I thought suddenly. He was here now. The connection we’d shared at the beach, the time we had spent together – it all had to mean something. It had to.

  I walked over to the table and ate with him. We talked about how well his room had been restored since that morning and chatted about the places we’d gone that day, like a date.

  When we were finished, it was still fairly early in the night, but I was tired. I thought for a second about asking him whether I could take the sofa bed, but reeled it in, not really willing to throw away an opportunity to be close to him again. His bed was really comfortable. I fell asleep next to him as the television quietly droned in the background.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nate

  I woke up like someone had just punched me in the chest. The room was dark and quiet. I had to take a minute to remember where I was because my mind felt like I was still asleep.

  My skin felt clammy; I was soaking wet with sweat. I threw the covers off and tried to get myself up into a sitting position. Every move I made hurt like I'd been lying still for years. My heart was racing, and I felt like I was definitely about to throw up.

  Fuck. Couldn't even do one whole day, huh? I should have known this was coming. I was still on my back. Pushing myself up, I realized I wasn't alone. Abby was asleep, facing me. As if this night could get worse. I tried to move quietly. I couldn't do it quickly because my body felt like I'd just run a marathon.

  I needed a fucking dose. I was dying. That's what was happening. This is what death felt like. I'd almost gone an entire twenty-four hours without shooting. That was long enough. I was calling that a record. I'd get clean – as soon as I shot up just this one last time.

  Where was my stuff? I couldn't remember. I couldn't think. Where the fuck had I put it? I stumbled into the living room. Was it in there? I couldn't see my kit anywhere. Was it even still there? I'd trashed the place the night before; what if it was gone? I went to a couch and threw the pillows on the ground, checking behind them. There was nothing on the piano or the dining table. I checked the shelves pushing the vases and decorations onto the floor, not caring whether they broke.

  Nothing. Where the fuck was it? The bedroom? I couldn't go in there. Abby was still in there. She was asleep. She couldn't see me like this. My stomach was turning. I tried to get to the fridge, but switched streams halfway because I was going to be sick. I scrambled back into the room to the bathroom, barely making it before I started throwing up.

  I puked my dinner into the toilet bowl, feeling my stomach cramp painfully.

  Shit. That was new. I knew other people who had gotten the cramps and thrown up, but I hadn't stayed sober long enough before for it to be me. Look at that, new milestone, I thought.

  I slumped against the toilet, flushing it. I felt exhausted. My heart was still racing but my body ached and I was sweating. God, how awful would it have been for Abby to walk in right then? Yeah. We’d had sex and she was pretty into me, but this would probably cool her down real quick.

  I pulled myself painfully back to my knees. Had I left it in here? I checked the tub and shelves throwing the towels on the ground.

  "Nate?"

  Fuck.

  "Go back to bed, Abby," I growled from the ground.

  "Nate, what's going on?" she asked.

  "I said go back to bed. Leave me alone." She came up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

  "Nate, come back to bed," she said putting her hand back on my shoulder.

  "Where's my kit?" I asked her.

  "Your what?"

  "My kit, Abby, don't play dumb. Did you take it? So I couldn't shoot up? That how you plan on helping me?" I demanded.

  "Nate, I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Tell me," I demanded.

  "I don't know where it is," she insisted. She looked at my face, touching my cheek. I flinched away. "Have you been throwing up?" she asked. I ignored her question and tried to get up. "Nate," she called.

  "Fuck off, Abby. Unless you're helping me find my kit, I don't want to hear it," I said.

  I got up and left the room feeling bad for talking to her like that, but maybe she'd leave. She'd leave and I wouldn't have to feel like a disgusting degenerate shoving the needle into my shoulder because my hands would be shaking too hard to get a vein without missing.

  I got back out to the bedroom, starting with the bed. I ripped the covers off, throwing the pillows on the ground. I threw the cupboards open checking inside.

  I was getting frustrated. I started on the couch, pulling all the cushions up. One of them caught the lamp on the second nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor.

  "Nate!" I looked up seeing Abby in the bathroom doorway. The bathroom light was on behind her so she looked like a ghost or something, like she wasn't really there. She came up to me. "Nate, stop," she said, taking the cushion I was holding from my hand. "You have to calm down," she said.

  "Where's my shit?"

  "You can't give up now, Nate; you've managed not to use the whole day," she said, putting her hands on my arms.

  "Yeah, now we know my fucking limit."

  "If you give up now, you'll have to start again from scratch," she said.

  I was nauseated and my heart was racing so fast I thought it was about to stop. Starting again from scratch meant not feeling like this right now and recovery or not, I wanted to stop feeling like I was about to die.

  "I can't fucking do it, Abby," I said.

  "I said I was going to help you."

  "The only way you could do that is helping me find a vein that isn't fucking dead," I snapped. I saw her flinch a little. I was being an ass. I knew that, but I couldn't fucking do it. If I showed her it was useless to try and help me, she wouldn't have to waste her time trying to do it. She wouldn't have to fucking watch this anymore.

  "I'm not leaving you alone, Nate," she said.

  "Well, maybe you should," I said, knowing I was pushing her away. In the dim light from the bathroom, her eyes became glassy. She was crying. She shook her head. Shit. Leave, goddamnit. Leave me alone. Why wasn't she letting me destroy my life in peace?

  "I know you're struggling right now, but this is the worst of it. It will get easier. All you have to do is ride it out. I said I'd be here for you and I meant it," she said.

  I sighed, feeling my body sag. I wanted to believe her. I really wanted to let her help me, but I didn't know what to do when someone was trying to look after me.

  "Come on," she said. She took one of my hands and pulled me after her. I resisted a little, but let her do it. We went back into the bathroom. The shower was on, making the small room foggy and warm.

  I watched her pull my t-shirt off and slide her hands under the waistband of my boxer briefs so they could slide down, too. "Come on," she prompted gently again. I followed her into the shower. The water was sort of hot, hotter than I would usually have it, but it felt good because I was hurting so bad.

  I turned my face up into the stream. It felt good. Abby was running her hands over my shoulders and chest. We stayed there a while before she stopped the water, and we went back to the room. She had put a robe on, and I was in a towel. I let her lead me to the bed and make me lay back on the bed. I still wanted to shoot up, but I wasn’t feeling as nauseated. I was feeling sort of tired. The room was dark, but I could still see her moving around.

  "Wait here," she said, getting off the bed.

  "Don't leave," I said quickly. I started getting up off the bed.

  "Stop moving," she said. She sat on the bed behind me, letting me rest my head on her lap. She r
an a hand through my wet hair. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like shit," I grumbled, looking up at her dark silhouette. She was stroking my hair. It felt nice.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked.

  “Heroin,” I said.

  “What else?” she urged. I sighed. She wasn’t going to let me do it.

  “Why are you still here?” I thought, saying it out loud. She didn’t say anything, and her hand slowed down a little in my hair. She moved a little under me, and I was scared she was actually going to leave.

  I hadn’t meant it. I was just pissed, and sick and tired. People gave me what I wanted when I asked them to – but not her. Her kindness was throwing me for a loop. I didn’t know what to do when someone was nice to me without any real reason to be and didn’t have to be.

  She didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything, either. I don’t know when it happened, but I must have fallen asleep because I woke up. Abby was gone. I sat up, I was groggy and sort of tired, but the pain from the night before was mostly gone and I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up. I started getting up when I stopped, seeing a piece of paper with my name on it, handwritten.

  I sat down to read the note.

  Nate, I had to leave for work. I didn’t want to wake you. You did great last night; call me at the front desk when you wake up. Abby.

  She stayed, I thought. Why was she even still talking to me? I remembered what I had said to her. I would have punched myself in the face if I was her. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I owed her an apology. And a thank you.

  I looked for my phone to check the time before calling the front desk. The room was clean, I noticed; she must have arranged that, too. Already too much, I thought. I needed to start paying her or something. She probably wouldn’t take it, though, because that was the kind of person she was.

  Too good for me. That might have been true, but if she had seen me last night and still wasn’t done with me, I wasn’t letting her go. I sat on the couch with the phone and called the front desk.