Hacked For Love & The Dom's Songbird: A Billionaire Romance Collection

by Michelle Love

  "That's really not something we're meant to do with a guest.”

  Wordlessly, Donovan passed me a slice of pale cheese on a dark cracker and I sank down on the far end of the couch, crunching into it gratefully when Donovan spoke again, his eyes trailing over me lazily.

  "Do you have a boyfriend, Gwen?"

  I bit my tongue sharply, just barely managed to avoid spitting out the cracker, and stared at him.

  "What kind of question is that?"

  Donovan chuckled. "An honest one that deserves an honest answer, I think."

  I wasn’t so sure about that.

  "Well, no, I don't have a boyfriend...Why do you want to know?"

  For a moment, he just looked at me as if wondering what planet I came from.

  "Are you serious?" he asked. "You have no idea why a man might ask an attractive woman if she's seeing anyone? None at all?"

  "I'm not an attractive woman," I said bluntly, "and I saw the two women who left this penthouse a few days ago. So yeah, I guess I don't have a clue."

  He grinned a little at my tone, and I scowled at him. I was beginning to be less worried about losing my job if I said the wrong thing, and more frustrated with Donovan for thinking he got to ask whatever questions he wanted.

  "You're wrong," Donovan offered. "I think you're quite attractive, and if that kiss we shared the last time you were here is any indication, you think the same about me. And while you didn't seem to be the sort to kiss when you had a boyfriend at home, I wasn't sure."

  I gritted my teeth and reached for another slice of cheese. If i had to deal with him thinking I was some kind of cheater, I could damn well be fed for the privilege.

  "That's flattering," I muttered, and he laughed again. I had to admit I enjoyed the low, husky sound.

  "Well, a lot of the women that I deal with don't really mind stepping out on their lovers that much."

  "Then you need to hang out with different women," I retorted.

  "You're probably not wrong. So far, it seems to be going pretty well for me. What about for you?" he teased.

  "The food is good," I admitted grudgingly.

  “What about the kiss?”

  Once again, I nearly choked on a cracker. “It was … nice,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, songbird,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You’re lying to me again. I think we both know it was a whole lot more than that.”

  I dodged that line of conversation. "I heard what you did for room service. Thank you."

  Donovan nodded, a faint shadow stealing over his face.

  "That was a bad business that should have been stopped long before now."

  "I noticed that it doesn't apply to waitstaff, though," I said, and there was a sudden gleam in his eyes, one that made my heart beat a little faster.

  "Well, waitstaff shouldn't be making runs to guests' rooms at all."

  "And yet, here I am."

  "Yes."

  He leaned in, eyes locked on mine. I could have stopped him. I could have stood up and told him I was done and that I was going home. No matter what caution told me, there was a voice at the back of my head that said he wouldn't fire me for it.

  I didn't.

  Instead, I leaned into the hand that came up to cradle the side of my face, and when he kissed me, I parted my lips for him.

  The last kiss had been fast, like a lion pouncing on its prey. This one... I felt seduced, as if somehow the lion, with its golden beauty and it's basso profundo rumble, had convinced me it was tame.

  I felt a thrilling shock of electricity run through me as he kissed me, and I leaned in, wanting more. I had kissed men before, of course, boyfriends, dares, that sort of thing. The difference in kissing them and kissing Donovan was as wide as the ocean.

  I could feel the teeth in his kiss, and it left my mouth feeling sensuously tender and soft. He wasn't content kissing my mouth, however, and I gasped a little as he tilted my head to one side, nuzzling against my jaw before dropping a line of kisses along my throat.

  "I can't," I found myself whispering. "I can't..."

  He paused and pulled back long enough to look at me. Donovan on his own was handsome enough, but Donovan aroused, with that gleaming light in his eyes and his mouth reddened from our kiss, was utterly devastating.

  "Why?" he asked reasonably, and his tone was so kind that I couldn't help throwing my arms around him and pressing my face to his chest. After a startled moment, he wrapped me in his arms.

  "Did someone hurt you before?" he asked, a silky thread of menace in his voice. It took me a moment before I realized what he was asking.

  "What... no! No, not at all. It's just..."

  "Just..."

  "I'm not... this type of girl," I said weakly. There was a heat centered low in my belly and an electric tingle that danced over my skin that demurred, but I shook my head.

  "What kind of girl are you, then?" he asked, and I laughed a little.

  "One that definitely does not belong in a penthouse, kissing her boss," I said, and he made a sound that was suspiciously similar to a purr.

  "If I'm your boss, doesn't that mean that I get to tell you what to do?”

  "I..."

  "Maybe I say that you belong right here." His voice dropped and I could feel his lips moving next to my ear right before he nipped at my earlobe. The sharp prick of pain startled me, making me yelp, and then he was kissing that sharpness away, lapping at my earlobe with a clever tongue.

  I wanted to reply, but what he was doing with his mouth took my breath away, making me cling closer to him.

  "Maybe I say that you belong next to me, underneath me, letting me touch you and make you feel good. And believe me, Gwen, I can make you feel so good. I want to lie you down and touch you, show you exactly what that beautiful little body was made for."

  I whimpered a little as he pressed me back against the couch, looming over me to kiss a path down my jaw. His dexterous fingers found the knots that held the sarong top of my uniform closed at the shoulders, undoing one and kissing the bare skin it revealed there.

  "You taste good," Donovan murmured to me. "Did you know that? Like salt and honey and sweetness. How in the world has no one eaten you up yet?"

  I tried to garble out some kind of reply, but then he was swiping his tongue along my collarbone, finding all sorts of sensitive spots that I didn't know I had. One hand was on my shoulder, steadying me, and the other stroked my knee through the thin skirt. I wanted his skin on my bare skin, but for the moment, he seemed content to take his time, driving me slowly crazy with the pleasure he was offering.

  "If I'm you're boss, and you have to do what I say, maybe you would like taking orders, hm?" he asked, and I couldn't stop from shivering underneath him. "What if I ordered you to strip yourself bare for me?"

  "Why?" I squeaked out, and instead of laughing at me, he only leaned up to kiss me again. This man could take my breath away with his kisses, and when he pulled back again, there was humor in his eyes, but also something wild and needy as well.

  "Because I want to see you," Donovan growled, his voice hoarse. "Because you are so beautiful, and I want to see it all bare for me. I would make you turn around so I could see all of you, and I would make you march right back to the bedroom, wait for me flat on your back, your arms and legs out because only I could touch you..."

  Desire ran through me like someone had suddenly undammed a river, and it nearly made me dizzy. With just his words, I could imagine him doing all of that to me with crystal clarity. It didn't shock me, exactly. What shocked me was how very much I wanted him to do it. I had always thought that I was something of a cold fish when it came to romance, but apparently what it had taken was this man and his words, unraveling me like a scarf until I had come completely undone...

  It was too much, and with a cry, I squirmed away from him and lurched to my feet. For a moment, he stared after me as if all he wanted was to drag me back. Then a rueful look came over his face.

  "No?" he asked,
and no matter how panicked I was or shocked that I had been so open to what he was talking about, I couldn't bring myself to tell him no.

  "I... I need to go," I said, the words stumbling out of my mouth. "I should... go..."

  "If you want to," he said quietly. "But really, there was another reason I asked you here."

  I blinked. "There... was?"

  "I looked you up on online. I found some of the recordings you've made."

  Whatever I had been expecting, that wasn’t it. I had made those recordings at home with a borrowed microphone, facing a corner of my little apartment that had been draped with blankets to improve the sound quality. I had been proud at the time, but in short order had seen how amateurish they were compared to what other people were producing.

  "You're good," he said, "and I'd like to hire you. Come sing here on Friday night. I'm meeting with some people from the hotels in the area. I think you have a good voice, and I'd like you to sing that night."

  "I... I don't have anything to wear to anything so fancy," I blurted out, and then I shook my head. "I've never sung in front of an audience before."

  "First time for everything."

  Donovan reached into his wallet, and peeled away what looked like three hundred dollars, stuffing it into my hand.

  "There you go, dress fee paid, and it'll be another three hundred at the end of the performance. If you are taking requests, I'm partial to blue on you."

  "You're serious," I said slowly. "You want me to come sing for you."

  "I am always serious, songbird," he said, and though his gaze was soft, I could still see that predatory gleam there. "Friday night. Show up at ten. I'll be expecting you."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Donovan

  Getting a group of independent millionaires to agree to anything was like herding cats. By the time dinner was over, I was ready to be done with it all.

  I had poured myself a couple fingers of Scotch when there was a shy knock on the door. Knowing who it was already, I didn’t stop the smile that crossed my face as I walked over to open the door, then stopped as Gwen was revealed before me in all her soft, delicate beauty, this time enrobed in a sapphire dress.

  The dress fell almost to the ground, even with the tall heels she wore so nervously. I could see the weight of it as she walked shyly into the room, casting a nervously hopeful look at me. While the dress covered her completely from hip to ground, it was cut low enough to show off her slight curves on top, leaving her shoulders nearly bare except for a pair of slender jeweled straps. There were a pair of bright glittery rhinestone barrettes in her hair, completing the picture. She looked like some perfect mix of innocent and sultry, right down to the pink lipstick that had been applied so artfully. Whoever this Andrea was, she probably deserved a raise.

  "Is it all right?" Gwen asked softly, and I reached out to stroke her cheek.

  "You look stunning."

  "I wanted to look nice. For your guests. For you. I wouldn't want to embarrass you in any way."

  I laughed softly, leaning down to brush her full lips with my own, deliberately keeping the touch light, or I knew we’d never leave the apartment. "You could never embarrass me.”

  "You've never heard me sing live," she whispered into the kiss and I shrugged as I forced myself to step away.

  "You seem like a good bet."

  It looked like she wanted to say something else, but she shook her head.

  "Where do you want me?" she asked. "Should I be singing something soft when people come in, or …"

  I was suddenly tempted to see if I could make her stand on the table. That vision appealed to me, seeing her up for display, the beauty that was so easy to overlook in normal life shining like a Christmas tree. Would she like it? Would she be terrified? How easy it would be then to run my hand up her slender calf, making her shiver before moving it higher...

  "Why don't you get go stand over there?" I said instead. "With your back to the window. I think that would be striking."

  She moved obediently, only giving me a curious glance when I reclined on the couch not so far away.

  "Should I..."

  "Start with something soft," I suggested. "Give yourself time to work up to something impressive."

  She smiled at me and nodded. I watched, fascinated, as her eyes fluttered closed and she seemed to compose herself.

  Then Gwen started to sing and a chill ran up my spine. Her voice was lower than I would have thought, and there was something perfect and true about it. She pulled the notes effortlessly out of the air, and when she sang about a love that would never die and the abandonment of a lover, I could feel something in me that felt as if it had been asleep all my life stir.

  She believes it, I realized. Her skill was impressive, her natural talent even more so, and as she stood with her back to the wide dark gulf, I could feel the heartbreak of the song running through her as well.

  God, what must a full performance must be like if she felt the sweetness and the sorrow of her own songs every night?

  I listened, rapt, as the song finished, and then another one started. This one was just as soft, but there was a kind of joy to it. Her eyes opened, blue as the summer sea, and I drew my breath as she started singing to me, or so it felt. When she talked about how good it felt to love and be loved, I smiled, and I could find no shade of sorrow in her at all.

  As the song ended, her eyes slowly lost some of their happiness and I felt a brief kick of regret for being my usual asshole self.

  "There's no one coming, is there?" she said quietly.

  I shook my head. "My meeting was earlier at a very forgettable restaurant. It would have been much more entertaining if you had actually been there, singing for me."

  A number of emotions chased each other over her face, anger, frustration, sorrow, a kind of wild speculation, and then she hid them away again, her face pale and neutral in a way that made me ache.

  "Then what did you hire me for?"

  Because I can't look away from you.

  "I hired you to sing for me."

  "Is that all?" she asked with such nervousness that I laughed slightly.

  "Beautiful little songbird, believe me when I say that I don't need to buy my company."

  Gwen’s eyes narrowed and I was relieved to see some life in them again. “I was excited about my first live performance, Donovan. I practiced for days. I thought you really believed I was good enough to—”

  “Stop,” I warned, getting to my feet but not approaching her. “I lied only because I was uninterested in sharing you with anyone. Not because you’re not talented, Gwen. You are, exceedingly. I could tell from the videos, and just now, you’ve blown me away.”

  There was still a hint of hurt in her eyes that I was suddenly desperate to erase.

  "Sing for me again,” I urged. “Not because I’m buying you, Gwen. But because I want to stand hear and listen to you. I need to.”

  If she’d refused me, I don’t know what I would have done, but then she took a slow breath and began once more.

  I lost myself in her voice. In her. In the way she didn’t spare herself when she performed. When she felt an emotion from a song, she wore it as beautifully as the sapphire dress, turning from sweetness to joy to grief and back again. Her whole being seemed to vibrate as her powerful voice grew stronger with each song, filling the apartment. Filling me.

  Finally, she stopped and reached for a glass of water I had placed within her reach. There was a spark of defiance in her beautiful eyes.

  "Well?" she asked. "Is that what you wanted?"

  "No," I admitted, though in other circumstances I would have wanted to hear her sing until the world ended. "Your singing belongs on the world's stage, but that's not all I want from you."

  I watched her to see if she would gather herself up and walk out. Instead, she wavered, glancing at the door, glancing at me. Her obvious uncertainty moved me in ways very little ever did.

  "Come here," I said softly, and was reli
eved when she slowly crossed the floor to stand in front of me. I looked her up and down, something that brought that lovely color to her cheeks again, and smiled down into her eyes.

  "There is absolutely no flaw in you," I told her. “I could stand here forever and listen. I could stand here forever and look.”

  "I'm not-"

  "No." My sharp command visibly startled her to stillness.

  "You're not going to contradict me on something I know to be true. There are consequences for that."

  She licked her lips, and I managed to hold myself back. Soon.

  "And what are those consequences?" she asked, her voice soft and husky. Did she even know how beautiful she looked?

  "Whatever I think suits the crime," I said easily. "Maybe a spanking. Maybe I'll take that dress right off of you and drive you home in your underwear."

  She shuddered, and at first I thought she was thinking of having all of her delectable charms exposed, but then she looked at me, her blue eyes wide and wanting.

  "Don't make me leave," she said, her voice aching, and any resolve that I had to draw this out shattered.

  I took her hand and dragged her into me, kissing her roughly. She whimpered a little when my teeth pressed against her soft lip, but still clung to me with all of her strength.

  "I want you," I told her between kisses. "I've wanted you ever since the first time I saw you. If you want to leave, do it now, because otherwise, I'm not letting you out of bed until morning."

  She didn't pause at all. Instead Gwen pressed herself even closer to me, her kisses shy but hungry.

  "Please," she said, and as I pulled her close to me, I wondered if I was ever going to be able to let her go.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gwen

  I knew that there were words for singers who slept with their clients. None of them were kind, and all of them could end a career before it even got off of the ground. However, all that mattered to me right now was Donovan's hot mouth on mine, his strong and solid body underneath me.

  When he stood, cradling me against his chest, I gasped at the shift of his powerful muscles banded around my body.

  "You feel perfect in my arms," Donovan murmured. "Exactly as I’ve imagined, and I’ve been imagining a lot, Gwen.”