Love Unbound: A Valentine's Day Romance Anthology

by Dee, Cassandra

  And suddenly, he was here. That massive form, dark and imposing, almost blocking out the light from one window. Piercing blue eyes, topped with coal-black hair.

  Shivers ran down my spine.

  “I’m sorry there was no one to greet you,” Mr. Evans repeated smoothly. “Helena’s out today, and Elite only has a skeleton staff in New York City. So it’s just me and you.”

  Somehow, the words sounded intimate, although I knew they weren’t. Me and you. That was nice.

  Please, the voice in my head went. Get real Holly. Mr. Evans isn’t into you. In fact, there’s no me and you. That’s all your imagination, the stuff of that fantasy bath last night.

  My cheeks went red. And like he could read my mind, those blue eyes gleamed.

  “Come in?” he asked. “Make yourself comfortable in this conference room. Water?”

  I stammered, so embarrassed. But there was no ifs and buts about it. So taking a deep breath, I smiled with my best professional demeanor.

  “Thank you. Water would be great.”

  The billionaire nodded before disappearing around a corner.

  And it was then that I looked around the conference room. Because this wasn’t your average set-up. There was a giant oak table with at least fifty plush chairs on two sides. It looked like the movies where all the bigwigs sat around and talked about important million-dollar deals. But today, no one was here. It was just me and him.

  Was that good or bad? Gulping, I took a seat. Ooh, this chair was so comfortable.

  And then Mr. Evans returned, bearing a glass of water. It looked a little ridiculous. His hand was tan and firm, making the small glass look positively miniscule.

  Besides, I was the flight attendant and he was the CEO.

  So why was he serving me?

  But the alpha was completely at ease, lowering that massive frame into a chair opposite me, leaning back casually.

  The view of the city was breathtaking, but he was equally incredible to see. Dark and imposing, backlit a bit by sun rising behind him.

  I fidgeted in my seat.

  The memories of the flight welled up again. Oh god. It’d been so embarrassing. I was probably getting fired. And before he could say anything, my mouth began to move.

  “I’m so sorry about the flight yesterday,” came my humiliated blurt. “I should have handled it better. I had been informed that all were very important passengers, especially—”

  Mr. Evans held up his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Those guys are jackasses. There’s nothing you could have done differently.”

  My cheeks flamed, eyes grateful. Thank god Mr. Evans saw it my way. But why were those guys on the plane with them if he disliked them so much?

  Unfortunately, those questions were above my pay grade. So I squeezed my hands in my lap, trying not to fidget as my thighs trembled.

  Of course, Mr. Evans was completely unperturbed. He leaned backwards once more, blue eyes gleaming.

  “So, you’re the new hire Helena sent. Tell me a bit about yourself.”

  What?

  Why would he want to know about me?

  I was a nobody, someone whose last job was at Burger Barista. Even that was embarrassing to admit.

  But I had to make the best of it. So taking a deep breath, I met that deep blue gaze square on.

  “I’m a graduate of a six-week flight training school,” was my slow reply. “Just finished last month. And I saw an ad in the paper for Elite Air, and got hired right away. Thank you for taking a chance on me,” was my quick refrain. “I really appreciate it.”

  The billionaire nodded.

  “No prob,” he drawled. “But what else? Tell me where you’re from.”

  That blue gaze locked on mine and a blush rose to my cheeks. My nipples hardened, embarrassing me all over again.

  Oh god, could he see?

  Think of something else, anything else, spoke the voice in my mind. Come on Holly. Get with it. This is a job, one that you can’t afford to lose.

  “Um, I’m from around here,” was my low mutter. The truth is I was from way out in Queens, some projects that had once seen better days. Could I make it seem nicer than it actually was?

  But no. There was no sense in masking reality. After all, it’s not like I’d committed a crime. You’re just born into certain circumstances, and it’s fate, nothing else.

  So lifting my chin, I answered in a clear voice.

  “I’m from the LeBar Projects out in Queens,” the words came. “If you take the Midtown Tunnel, they’re right there once you exit on the other side. Can’t miss it, it’s a giant concrete jungle.”

  And to my surprise, respect entered those blue eyes.

  “Really?” he asked, a black eyebrow raised. “Never would have guessed, a nice girl like you.”

  My cheeks flushed.

  “Yes,” I said firmly. “It’s not the greatest place to grow up because they classified the canal nearby as a Superfund project. But I’m proud of my beginning, and not afraid of my humble roots.”

  The billionaire nodded slowly. But then a calculating gleam came into those blue eyes.

  “So tell me,” he rasped, leaning forwards. “How much are they paying you at Elite?”

  I gasped. Didn’t he know? The big man was the boss after all.

  But I nodded my head. It wouldn’t matter if I told him. After all, it was clearly his money in my pocket.

  “Helena offered me a salary of one hundred and fifty thousand a year,” I said in a firm voice. “After yesterday, I understand if you want to dock my pay. It was a tough situation, and I should have handled myself better. My apologies again.”

  The words were formal and stilted, but I didn’t want to be fired. How much would he penalize me? Ten thousand? Even more?

  Instead, the billionaire did something unexpected—he threw his back and laughed, showing off even white teeth. I flinched at the sound, utterly confused. Why was he amused? Was the man making fun of me? Heat rose to my cheeks, hot and agonizing.

  But the alpha merely shook his head again and looked at me wryly.

  “I’m not going to fire you, pretty baby,” came that low growl. “I’m gonna do something even better. I’m gonna offer you some incentive pay.”

  My mind reeled. I wasn’t going to be fired? Not even punished or written up? Hallelujah!

  But the turn of events left me cautious.

  “What do you mean, ‘incentive pay?’” was my slow query. “Is that like a Christmas bonus?”

  After all, at Burger Barista, we’d had a “holiday gift” each December. It was a coupon for a free pickle with your burger. Worth less than zero to someone like me, who hates pickles.

  Plus, my current salary was easily more money than I knew what to do with. I could save, for the first time in my life. I could put something away towards retirement. And I could help my mom pay her medical bills, evading bankruptcy.

  So what was this bonus he was offering?

  Because the answer was already on the tip of my tongue.

  Yes.

  Yes, I’ll do it.

  I’m poor and need the money. Please.

  My life is already ten times better than it used to be, and with you in it, worlds have already opened. Opportunities that never existed before.

  Mr. Evans chuckled like he could read my mind.

  “Incentive pay means bonus money for doing exceptional work,” he drawled. “Are you an exceptional girl?”

  Oh no, oh no. Because was this a trap? Me, exceptional? Was this guy crazy? I just screwed up my first flight, hiding in the closet like a coward.

  So I tried to play it off.

  “Oh no, you don’t have to do that.” I shook my head, trying to seem confident. “I want to do good work anyways. You don’t need to pay me extra for doing my job.”

  Mr. Evans nodded and seemed pleased with my answer. But one black brow crooked again.

  “But you deserve to be compensated for work that goes above and beyond the
call of the average stewardess. Capiche?”

  Actually, I didn’t understand. Not at all. So straightening in my seat, the words came earnestly.

  “Mr. Evans, you don’t have to pay me extra, I aim to please. It’s no trouble at all.”

  He smiled again, but this time his eyes had a devilish glint. Oh god. This man had me wound around his finger, and my insides loosened, face growing warm. What was he planning?

  And sure enough, the lion struck then.

  “I want to make things better for you,” he drawled. “I want you to be more than just a stewardess on these flights.”

  A slight pause.

  “More than a stewardess?” my voice squeaked.

  What in the world? What did that mean? Oh wait. Suddenly it was obvious.

  “Sure, I don’t mind scrubbing the toilets,” I said hastily. “I can absolutely do the laundry too, it’s no trouble. No extra pay needed.”

  All Mr. Evans did was throw back his head and laugh mightily again.

  “Naw pretty girl, that’s not what I mean at all.” He leaned back in his chair, letting his gaze caress my curves. “Tell me, where did you work before Elite Air?”

  Oh god. Oh god. The time had come.

  “Oh, um, it was just a minimum wage job.” I dropped my gaze to the table, face burning. But I couldn’t duck anymore. “I was a barista and a burger flipper at a little local joint called Burger Barista. It sounds crazy right? Who drinks coffee and eats burgers at the same time? But actually, it was a genius idea, they had so many customers.”

  The big man’s eyebrows were practically on the ceiling now.

  “So you flipped patties?” he drawled.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Yes sir. And pulled espresso shots. For eight hours a day, it wasn’t too bad. My feet hurt afterwards, but we had free food while on shift, so it was worth it.”

  There. It was all out there now. My humble beginnings at LeBar City. My minimum wage job filled with greasy oil and the french fry smell that never went away.

  But everyone has to start somewhere, and for me, Burger Barista was step one, humble as it may be.

  Mr. Evans, on the other hand, is hard to read. His eyebrow quirked, making me uneasy, before the alpha leaned forwards again. “You sound like a hard worker and a good employee. Did you have extra responsibilities around Burger Barista?”

  I nodded, chin up.

  “Yes! If they needed someone to mop floors, or clean the bathroom, I was on it. I did it for free because we’re a team, you know? I wanted to give my all and show I was worth keeping.”

  Mr. Evan’s eyebrows raised, surprised at my answer. I fidgeted, unsure if he was impressed or regretting his decision. Oh god, oh god. The hammer was going to fall at any moment, I could feel it. I’d be on the street with a quick “thank you, goodbye.”

  But instead, that movie star smile flashed again.

  “Well, I’d like for you to do a little extra for Elite Air. Like I mentioned, you’ll be paid for your service.”

  My breath stilled. What did he mean? But then that handsome face grinned, making my heart race.

  “Little girl, I want to play with you on these flights. To help me de-stress. To get me relaxed. What do you think about that?”

  My ears burned, cheeks on fire. What in the world? As usual, the words came tumbling out before I could stop them.

  “Of course!” was my blurt. “I can make you a really soothing tea, and I’ve been learning about meditation. There’s this Zen routine where you blank your mind and try and think of nothing at all. It sounds easy, but is super hard to do. Plus, do you like yoga? Or massages? I can take classes on Swedish massage,” was my quick refrain. “Or Japanese-style if you prefer.”

  Oh god, my whole face was red now. Had to be.

  But the billionaire grinned wolfishly then.

  “Sure that sounds good,” he drawled. “Especially if you like nuru massage. Have you heard of that before?”

  I shook my head, cheeks flaming.

  “No sir, but I can learn. I’ll look it up and sign up for classes immediately.”

  The gorgeous man threw his head back and laughed aloud then.

  “Sure sweet thing, take classes. But I don’t want you practicing on anybody but me.”

  My eyebrows went up.

  “I’m sorry?” was my stammer. “What do you mean?”

  He grinned again.

  “You’ll see honey. Look up nuru massage, and you’ll see what I mean. But I want more than just massages, if you get my meaning. It includes your, ah, assets,” he drawled, staring at my girls.

  Shamefully, they tightened and rose, the nipples pointing straight at the big man.

  “I’m sorry?” was my soft gasp. “What do you mean? I... um…”

  But more words wouldn’t come, and suddenly my palms were clammy, thighs squeezing tight with electricity.

  The alpha seemed amused by my reaction, eyes turning a deep, dark blue. Oh god, I could drown in that stormy ocean.

  But Mr. Evans is a businessman, and he doesn’t mince words.

  “You know what I mean,” he drawled. “You, as my plaything. You, naked and open for my touch. You, on your knees, begging when I say so.”

  WHAT?

  What was happening?

  He wanted me to serve drinks … naked? He wanted me to do what?

  What in the world?

  But the billionaire continued, unperturbed.

  “I’ll pay you for it. How about twenty-thousand dollars per leg of air-time in addition to your salary? That’s a lot, sweetheart. Twenty-thousand to be my plaything. Say you fly with me from JFK to Charlotte and then on to Chicago. That’s two legs. You make forty-thousand in one day, on top of everything else.”

  If before had been insane, then this was downright crazy. Forty thousand dollars for a day’s work? For flying two short legs?

  But wait … I had to service him nude during those flights.

  Swallowing heavily, I stared into mesmerizing blue eyes. And the words came unbidden then.

  “What does it mean to be your plaything?”

  The alpha’s grin was wolfish, like he might ravage me right then and there.

  “Good question, sweetheart. Because it means you. Anyway I want. Any time I want. Hot and nubile. Five- miles up in the air. You would be my in-flight entertainment so to speak.”

  Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades and slipped down my back, even as a sweet tingle began in my cunt. Was he crazy? Was this even legal?

  My tongue felt thick as I spoke again.

  “Does that mean… You know…?”

  Oh god. I was so naïve. Incredibly dumb and girlish, compared to this seasoned alpha male. But I’ve never been with a man before, much less a powerful and important billionaire who was probably used to all sorts of crazy sex stuff.

  And Mr. Evans’ eyes darkened again, smile calculating. Now, those blue eyes devoured me whole.

  “Sure thing, pretty baby. It means my dick in your hot pussy, hard and real. You on board with this? After all, it’s twenty thousand dollars, sweetheart. Can you stretch your pussy for to the tune of twenty thousand dollars a go?”

  Suddenly, something snapped within me. Because I should have been offended. I should have been disgusted, and screamed sexual harassment, running out the door to protect my modesty.

  But instead, all I felt was excitement. Wetness pooled between my legs, insides going hot and soft. Oh god.

  Thorn Evans saw me as a woman.

  And I saw him as a man, a powerful alpha male who desired my body.

  Slowly, my lips parted.

  “Yes sir. I can do that.”

  The man smiled, pleased, and leaned back in his chair.

  “Good,” was his curt reply. “Our first flight is tomorrow. As I said: JFK to Charlotte and then onto Chicago.” Suddenly, that voice dropped to a growl, making my whole body tremble. “Get ready to earn forty-thousand tomorrow, pretty baby. You think you ca
n do it?”

  Oh god, oh god. My temp must have gone up about a hundred degrees. Suddenly, the cavernous conference room with the giant oak table was too big. Everything disappeared until it was just me and the billionaire, our eyes locked together, devouring one another.

  But then the moment snapped.

  Mr. Evans stood smoothly, so tall that his head almost touched the ceiling. Was that right? Or maybe I was just imagining things. After all, the dazzle was strong. My lungs wouldn’t inflate, and I stumbled for a moment, wobbling next to the conference table.

  “Gotcha,” he growled, one big hand grabbing my elbow and pulling my curvy form close. “Gotcha, sweet thing.”

  And all of a sudden, it was on once again. We were pressed together, my big boobs right up against his abs. Oh shit, oh shit! Slowly, my head tilted back, chin up, meeting his eyes.

  But something unexpected happened again. Because I thought Mr. Evans would push me away. I thought he’d send me on my way with a friendly pat on the ass, nothing more.

  But instead, the billionaire bowed his head and brushed those sculpted lips against mine, a butterfly kiss that soared through my soul.

  Oh my god, was this really happening?

  Was I really kissing the CEO, right here in an empty office? Oh god. But it was true. That mouth was commanding and yet sensual at once, drugging my senses and filling my core with anticipation.

  Was this how it felt to be kissed by a man?

  Because I definitely wanted more. My body was on high alert, heating flooding every cell with awareness of this man.

  But with Mr. Evans, nothing is predictable. Because he pulled away then, looking deep into my big brown eyes.

  “You’re sweet, little girl,” he rasped. “Real sweet. Can’t wait to taste more. Now go before I rip you to pieces right here.”

  Because oh god, as he moved away, I saw it then. That enormous tent in his pants. Straining, hard, and ready to burst.

  My eyes went wide.

  Mr. Evans had to qualify for the Guinness Book of World Records.

  I could even see the imprint of his glans, a rigid line delineating the shaft from the bulb, tantalizing and hot.

  And unbidden, my mouth filled with saliva hungrily.

  Because I wanted it.

  I wanted to touch, to taste, and to sample.

  But oh god. Because what have I agreed to? Mr. Evans is hung like a horse. How was that going to fit in me?