Sleeping with a Billionaire - Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story)

by Nella Tyler

  By the time I had fed Brady dinner, given him a bath, and gotten him into bed, I was exhausted. I sat on the couch in the living room and tried to watch TV—quietly—but all I could think about was Zeke. It wasn’t just the guilt that I felt at having lied to him that bothered me; it was the fact that I had let him come to my house, that I had let things go so far with him. It had been a mistake from the beginning to the end.

  But in spite of the fact that I knew it was a mistake, I couldn’t help reliving the unofficial date. Brady had had no idea that Zeke had come over; Zeke had managed to leave before Brady woke up in the morning, which we’d agreed on as soon as we finished having sex. We both knew that the situation between us wasn’t a permanent thing—he would go on to dates with matches that the agency set up for him, and I could go on to coaching other clients, possibly eventually finding a man to date myself, not just someone to coach.

  Why did I even let that happen? In the moment, it had seemed so obvious to me, but looking back on the not-date that I’d had with Zeke, sitting on the couch we’d been on when I’d decided to have sex with him, it was a little harder. He was gorgeous—that much was obvious, and I couldn’t deny it, even when we’d first started working together. He was charming, smart, and funny. But he was a client. He wasn’t for me.

  I closed my eyes and thought about the actual incident itself. It was too easy by far to remember how it had felt to fall into bed with Zeke, how he’d felt inside me. If I’d gotten turned on just from kissing him—and I definitely had—then sex with him was enough to make me wish I was one of Katie’s clients, so that I could have the chance of feeling like that every day for the foreseeable future. He might have been a little rusty, but it was apparently like riding a bicycle. I shuddered, my hands beginning to wander over my body a little bit as I remembered his touch, the feeling and taste of his lips, the feeling of his cock. He was huge—at least by my standards—and he had looked even more glorious naked than he had in his stylish, expensive clothes. My heart beat faster in my chest at the memory of his muscled body, lean hips, the wheat-colored trail darting down from his navel towards his erection. Zeke had been absolutely mouthwatering.

  And, he would be absolutely mouthwatering for some other woman, within a matter of months. I gave myself a shake and tried to pay at least a little attention to what was going on in front of me on the TV, but it was useless. Zeke was going to be matched with some other client, who would start a family with him at some point. He would forget all about me, more than likely, and he would go on to get married and have kids. I had to think about my own future. I couldn’t tell Katie about what happened, and until I managed to figure out how to re-enforce the boundaries that should exist between Zeke and me, I had to put off seeing him again. It was only too easy to think that he would probably push for more—at least a kiss, if not another night together.

  You could always quit your job and date him yourself, you know. You’d be a great candidate—you know him already, and you know what his weaknesses and strengths are. For about a minute, that thought was so tantalizing and so bright and shining in my head that I seriously considered calling Zeke and inviting him over. But I’d have to explain about Brady if I did that. I wasn’t prepared to admit to lying to him. I sighed, scrubbing at my face, and decided that I was going to give myself a long, hot bath—but that brought Zeke to mind, as well, with the reminder of the things he’d bought for me at Lush. I couldn’t do anything in my own home without thinking of the guy.

  If I dated him, though—if I quit my job to avoid the professional conflict and dated him—there was no guarantee that it would work out. Sure, I knew his weaknesses and strengths, and I knew all kinds of strategies for getting him to act the way that I needed him to and to communicate effectively with him to get him to tell me what he needed, but that wasn’t all there was to a good relationship. Sooner or later, the odds were good that we’d end up breaking up. And then, I would end up losing him as well as being without a job. There was no guarantee, either, that I’d be able to find another job quickly after leaving the agency, especially if I came clean to Katie about why I wanted to leave.

  Glancing in the direction of Brady’s room, I knew that I would have to keep my job. It kept us afloat, and I couldn’t put Brady’s health and lifestyle at risk just because one of the clients I worked with was good in bed and reasonably charming. I had to be responsible. I decided to take a shower instead and get an early night. Maybe with some decent sleep, I would figure out a way to make things right between Zeke and me. I obviously couldn’t let things get to the point that they had a few nights before, ever again—I had to make sure that we kept things professional between us. I could lose my job if there was ever any whisper that I’d kissed—much less slept with—a client that I was coaching. I couldn’t risk that.

  I cleaned up the apartment and went into my bedroom, making a beeline for the shower. I kept the door open in case Brady woke up and needed something, but my mind was a million miles away even while I scrubbed and shaved and shampooed and conditioned. I couldn’t get rid of the nagging sense of guilt I felt for what I’d done. I would have to come clean to someone eventually; I couldn’t tell Katie and I definitely couldn’t tell any of my coworkers.

  I got out of the shower, dried off, and threw on a nightgown before crawling into bed. Big mistake. The pillowcases, the sheets, still smelled a little bit like Zeke—even though I could have sworn I’d washed them. I groaned and flopped onto my back, trying to keep from breathing in the scent of Zeke’s sweat, soap, and cologne that lingered. I just have to get him out of my head. I have to think of him as nothing more than another client and forget everything we’ve done beyond that. I laughed at myself in the darkness. I had studied enough psychology to know how stupid the idea of forgetting something consciously was. What I need to do is find a guy I can actually date—someone who isn’t a client. I thought of the kind of guy it could be, but even then it was too easy to notice that the traits lined up almost perfectly with Zeke. I fell asleep unsatisfied, upset at myself, and still gnawing myself from the inside with guilt at what I’d done.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Zeke

  I stepped forward in the line at Breaking Day Café and looked around me. I had to admit that in spite of the fact that Natalie had canceled our practice date, I was feeling pretty good. Even if I couldn’t get her out of my head, I was moving forward. I was asking women out. I’d taken her advice to heart: dating was at least partially a numbers game, and if I asked enough women on dates, I would eventually find someone who was willing to take a chance on me. I grinned to myself, remembering the feeling, the sight, and the sounds of the best sex of my life—with Natalie. I took a slow, deep breath, trying to push down the rush of heat that flowed through me at the thought of it. At least you know that when it comes down to it, you can get a woman off, I thought.

  I spotted one of the regulars a few spots in the line behind me, Brigitte was someone I’d talked to a couple of times while we both waited for drink orders, and I had always liked her—a little bit, at least as a person. She was obviously heading into work, dressed in a navy skirt suit with a pale pink blouse underneath. She’d pulled her blonde hair back into some kind of bun, which briefly reminded me of Natalie—but the hair color was totally different. I stepped forward in line again as the person two spots in front of me finished their order and came to a decision: I would ask Brigitte out. If she said no, it wasn’t like it would be the end of the world. If she said yes, I figured we could at least enjoy an hour or two at a restaurant over a meal.

  When it was my turn at the register, I smiled at the harried-looking teenager running the till. “Two things,” I said to the girl. “First, take a deep breath. You look like you’re about to crumble.” The barista met my gaze and took a slow, deep breath, smiling slightly.

  “Sorry,” the girl said, her cheeks lighting up with pink. “This is my first week here.”

  “You’re doing just fine,”
I told her. “Fortunately for you, my order is very, very simple.”

  “I’m ready for it,” the girl said, sounding more cheerful than she had for several minutes.

  “I’d like a medium latte with an extra shot, light on the foam,” I told her. That was my order.

  “Anything else?” I glanced over my shoulder at Brigitte.

  “Yes, actually,” I told the barista, leaning in a little closer to her. “Do you see that gorgeous blonde woman about two or three people behind me in line?” the barista looked and then nodded. “I’d like to order for her: one large, extra hot latte, with two squirts of hazelnut syrup.” The barista nodded and tapped on her screen. She told me the total and I handed her a twenty. “Put the rest in the tip jar,” I said with a grin when the barista would have given me my change.

  I stepped off to the side and waited, watching as the two people between myself and Brigitte took their turns. I could feel my heart beating faster in my chest as Brigitte stepped up to the register and began to order. The barista glanced at me for an instant and told the blonde something—presumably that I’d already ordered and paid for her. Brigitte turned around, looking at the line in confusion, and spotted me. The barista said something else and Brigitte walked away from the register, looking dazed but pleased.

  “You bought me my usual?” Brigitte looked up at me, her bright eyes gleaming slightly.

  “I thought it would be a nice thing to do… Are you going to tell me that you’re horrified at my presumption?” I thought—I hoped—that I’d taken Natalie’s lesson about gifts for women I wanted to date the right way.

  “No,” Brigitte said, her lips twitching in a smile. I hadn’t really seen her up close in a long time. We mostly just saw each other in passing, usually with a few people between us leaving or coming into the café at the same time. “How have you been?”

  We made small talk for a few moments while the people on the bar made our drinks, and called them out. “Brigitte,” I said, as we both stepped up to claim our drinks. “I was wondering: would you like to grab dinner sometime?” She looked startled, but not unhappy, and I felt my heart beating even faster in my chest with the hope that this would be the magic number that would get me a date of my own—not a practice date, not a pity date, not a professional date, but an actual, real date.

  “Sure,” she said after a moment. She smiled up at me. “Let’s get out of the flow of traffic, and I can give you my phone number.” I grabbed my latte and gestured for her to step out in front of me, where the traffic was a bit thinner for the busy morning rush. We stopped at one of the few empty tables, and I took out my phone. Brigitte recited her phone number twice, and I showed her the contact page on my screen to make sure it was accurate. “Now send me a text and I’ll have your number, too,” she suggested.

  In a matter of moments, I’d made a tentative date with her to have dinner in a few days’ time. I told Brigitte that I’d text her with more details once I had a reservation for something after seven in the evening, and we parted ways. I wanted to throw up my arms in victory. I wanted to tell the guy I walked past, leaving the café, that I’d actually managed to get a date. But that was ridiculous—I knew better than to do anything like that.

  I walked the last few blocks to the office, still buzzing with the feeling of having actually gotten a date for myself. Maybe having sex with Natalie took away whatever needy vibe you were giving off before, I thought, riding the elevator up to the floor my office was on. The thought reminded me of Natalie, and of the fact that she’d had to cancel a practice date with me. Katie had been clear that I would still be doing my practice dates with my coach while I was seeing other women that I found for myself—and to be honest, I didn’t want to stop seeing Natalie, even if I had gotten a date of my own. I would need her input. If it weren’t for her, I might not have thought of that move—buying Brigitte’s usual order for her as an opening, I reminded myself. I was sure that Natalie would have plenty of advice for the finer points of going on dates, too, and I’d want her feedback once the date with Brigitte happened.

  Then, too, I just wanted to see Natalie again. I got into my office and dug my phone out of my pocket again. She should—I hoped—be up already, but I didn’t want to assume, so I sent her a text message. If she wasn’t awake, she could give me a call when she was. We need to reschedule our practice date, I wrote. I hesitated before sending it, though—we were supposed to be professional, but we’d already crossed that particular line, and I didn’t want Natalie to think I was being too brusque. How’s Brady? I hope he’s feeling better.

  I set my phone aside and tried to focus on my work: there were reports to read, proposals to check on. But in the back of my mind, I kept waiting to hear my phone buzz, to tell me that Natalie had texted me back. My skin tingled and crawled with anticipation.

  Finally, when I was just starting to relax into my work, I heard my phone vibrating on the desk. I reached out and snatched it up without even really looking at the screen when I unlocked it. The message notification opened; it was a reply from Natalie. Brady is feeling much better! Did you want to call and reschedule? I glanced at my computer monitor—my work could wait.

  I called Natalie, sitting back in my chair and waiting while the phone rang once, and then twice. “Hey, Zeke,” she said as soon as the line connected. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I’d actually managed to get a date on my own, but something made me stop short of actually saying it.

  “So, what does your schedule look like for next week?” Normally, Natalie was supposed to run her own schedule around her clients—she’d told me so, when we were just getting to know each other—but since it was a re-schedule, I didn’t want to plan anything and then find out that she already had a session booked for that time.

  “I have Wednesday and Thursday free,” she said. “What did you have in mind for our date? Or is it going to be a surprise?” I thought her voice sounded a little weird, a little subdued, maybe. But that might have just been the early morning hour—I could easily believe that she normally had more relaxation time, even with a rambunctious child.

  “We’re going to be going to laser tag,” I told her. “I figured it would be fun. What do you think?”

  “That sounds great,” she replied. Once more I almost told her about the café, about Brigitte, and about the fact that I had another date to plan—a real date, at that. But I pushed the thought out of my head.

  “So Thursday is good for that?” I scribbled a quick note to put Trevor on the job for scheduling it, making it happen for me. “You’ll be able to get a babysitter? I think that Brady might still be a bit young for laser tag.”

  “I agree,” she said, and I thought I heard her smiling, finally. “I can definitely make it Thursday at about seven.” She didn’t sound as excited as I’d hoped she would, but then again, I reminded myself, she had probably not been awake for very long, and she was probably preoccupied with Brady’s morning routine.

  “Okay, I will see you then.” I stayed on the phone just long enough to exchange the usual pleasantries before telling Natalie that I had to get back to work. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe I hadn’t been quite as good in bed as I’d originally thought. Maybe the reason she was less than excited about our practice date was that I’d made her feel uncomfortable.

  You’re definitely going to have to talk about it, I thought, turning my attention back onto the work in front of me. I knew that I probably shouldn’t have pushed that boundary, but in the moment, it had seemed so completely right—and Natalie had gone right along with me, at least as far as I could tell. She had been amazing. I thought about that moment between us over and over again ever since it had happened. I took a deep breath and made myself think about Brigitte instead. That was a much more productive way to be distracted. I’d tell Natalie about my date with Brigitte after it had happened, and I would make things count with the woman who was actually interested in me—not the one who w
as professionally attached to me. I pushed the thought of Natalie out of my mind, and got to work with the resolution to make things go the way that they should without fighting them.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Natalie

  I could feel my heart beating faster as I pulled into a parking spot at the laser tag place that Zeke and I had agreed to meet at. “Zeke, we need to have a very serious conversation,” I said, glancing in the mirror. I had been rehearsing in my head what I was going to say and how I was going to address the situation. “I won’t say that the—the sex wasn’t good, because it was, but that’s actually an even stronger reason for why we can’t ever do that again.” I took a deep breath. My hands were shaking on the wheel.

  I had gone through all the possibilities that I could think of in my mind; that Zeke would attempt to blackmail me into continuing to have sex with him, or that he would try and make a play on my emotions, or that he would be irritable and aggressive in his defensiveness. It had been so long since I’d had to really give any guy that kind of talking to that it was difficult for me to even imagine how it would play out, but I knew that I had to draw a line in the sand, and I had to enforce a boundary. Much though I liked Zeke—and much though the sex had been amazing, even better than it had ever been with Alex—I couldn’t let it continue. My job was more important than any fling.

  I took another deep breath as I shut off the engine and checked my makeup in the mirror. I had been careful not to look too casual or too sexy—at least, as best as I could—but I still wanted to look professional and put-together. I touched up my lip color and grabbed my purse, trying to convince my pulse to slow down a little bit. Why was I so nervous? It wasn’t just because experience had taught me that men, in general, would react poorly to being “rejected.” It was because it was Zeke in particular that I was enforcing a boundary with. There was some part of me that almost didn’t want to have the conversation at all; some part of me that wanted to leave whatever it was we had to say unsaid, and just hope for the best.