Sleeping With The Billionaire - A Standalone Royal Alpha Billionaire Prince Romance (New York City Billionaires - Book #2)

by Alexa Davis

  I pulled her Disney comforter up around her chin and smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her temple. She would wake up disappointed that Kennedy had left without saying goodbye. She’d want to see the puppy, and her uncle Tuck, and I didn’t have a good answer for her. I swept my fingers over her soft cheek one last time before pulling the door to, so the light barely shone around the edges and bled softly into her room without waking her.

  Back in the dining room, I looked through old photos of Tucker and Andrew. Physically, they were nothing alike. Tucker was long and lean, his muscles tight cords that felt like taut springs. Andrew had been husky, bulky enough that he’d done well as a defensive end in high school and even as an undergrad student.

  Tucker was patient and soft spoken, his voice deep and gravelly, the kind that made women turn around as they walked by to give him a second look. His best friend had been explosive and loud, the first to tell a joke, and the last to realize the party was over.

  It was unfair to compare the two, yet I couldn’t stop trying to find the link between them. Tucker seemed like a good man, someone to trust, or to allow to protect the most important parts of my life. But I’d been fooled before. Tucker was a good friend, but I didn’t know if I could be friends with the man who made my stomach clench with need and the raw heat of need that was burning me up, even after he was gone. I didn’t trust Tucker not to break my heart. I couldn’t trust that I would keep my distance and remember that he was only supposed to be a friend, when the moment he was near me, I wanted to devour him whole.

  I closed the album, after choosing a picture of Tuck and Olivia together for a new screen saver. He was tan and lean and wet from our old backyard pool, dozing on a deck chair. Olivia was snuggled in his arms, in a sound sleep reserved for the very young. They had both blocked out the world for a moment of peace. I couldn’t wait to show her the next morning that Tucker had always doted on her. It made me feel that much worse that I couldn’t afford to let him continue, hurting my daughter once again, because of a choice I had to make about a man.

  Chapter Nine

  Tucker

  If anyone had asked me as I walked out of Libby’s house, if it wasn’t the hardest thing I’d ever done, I would’ve concurred heartily, and with language fit for the back pastures and the cattle drive. I wanted that woman so damn bad it was just about killing me, but I wasn’t going to force her to let me in. I was sure that every time she looked at me, she saw me as her husband’s best friend. When he was alive, and they were still married, I would never have even harbored the thought of Libby’s naked body under me, her long legs wrapped around my waist as she clenched around me with her legs, her arms, and with that wet heat I had sheathed myself in, so tight that even wet it had been a pleasant torture to push my way in and find my rhythm.

  I swore at myself as I slammed on my brakes to avoid running a red light. The last thing I needed was to accidentally kill myself because I was too stupid to stop at an intersection, busy focusing on how the skin on the inside of Libby’s thighs had tasted. The driver of the car behind me honked his horn and I flipped him off for good measure, before changing lanes and turning into the first parking lot that had lights on. It was a business I’d ignored until now, but I knew I needed a break before I hurt someone.

  The bright primary colors of the décor hurt my head and made me wish they served alcohol. Unfortunately, it was a sort of soda fountain, with flavors they added to the drinks, as well as ice cream and giant frosted cookies. I ordered myself a ridiculously large soda with fruit in it, and made a mental note to bring Olivia, or at least tell Libby about it if she ever spoke to me again.

  I sat in a swing chair hanging from the ceiling in the corner, and sipped my future diabetes from a Styrofoam cup, and tried to come up with a proper penance for making the woman I wanted more than anything else in the damnable world faint from the mental anguish I caused her. As it was, all I was going to get out of trying to be a gentleman, was a sugar hangover and more guilt for being the wrong man, or the wrong man’s friend, I wasn’t sure which.

  But I knew that there had to be something I could do to make her life easier, help her with O, anything that would prove that I was just me, not the ghost of a bad husband. I tossed the empty cup and bought an oatmeal cookie for my breakfast, and a white-chocolate-dipped Milk Bone for my pup, that was asleep in the car just outside the window next to me.

  Kennedy scarfed down the doggie cookie and we headed home; she content and sleepy, me sugared-up and caffeinated and a lot sharper than I had been before I’d stopped. I made it home without wrecking and fell into bed, grateful, at least, that I’d showered after the pool, so even if showering had been a special kind of torture, surrounded by the scent of a woman, imagining her washing herself in the steamy shower…. Nope, it was going to be a long time before stepping in the shower didn’t automatically make me think of Libby, in that godforsaken little bikini, naked in her shower, or naked everywhere else my brain wanted to put her to make me crazy.

  Her hearing still hadn’t been called up, and we’d need to start putting together an intermediate plan to help her take care of Olivia and herself if Carl managed to drag out the proceedings the way he loved to do. I changed out of my jeans and into my favorite ratty old basketball shorts and a t-shirt, and selected the first of many books from my library. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror with my pile of books and laughed. I was like the reverse Batman. My persona was an amazing and brilliant lawyer, with great hair and a flawless backswing. My secret identity was a skinny nerd in thick glasses whose super power, as it turned out, was just reading really well, really fast.

  So, I read everything I could find, in my own books, and online about how to market graphic designs, and brushed up on how start an online business, what the best social networking sites were for building businesses—anything and everything that constituted the most mind-numbing, tedious, and mundane parts of owning and running a business. I wasn’t an artist. I’d never create anything as an artist, but I could save Libby from the most common failings of new business owners, especially the creative ones.

  Boring old Tuck saves the day, stopping the IRS from attacking. I took off the glasses and rubbed my eyes, which were burning so bad I thought they’d fall out of my head. I’d been at it for hours and the sugar and caffeine had worn off after a while, but I was through the most important parts. I typed up everything I had managed to digest into a coherent business plan, and emailed it to her, along with my thanks for the seafood and the company. I hit send, then wished I hadn’t, or at the very least, that she didn’t bother to look at when it was sent.

  Kennedy whimpered from her bed, and I took her cue and headed toward mine. Fatigue made my feet lead and I dragged myself across the bed and passed out where I fell, only to dream of a blond-haired woman and redheaded little girl, dancing in the ocean.

  I ate the oatmeal cookie for breakfast, though lunch might have been more accurate, since I didn’t drag myself out of bed until after eleven. The dog walker had already come by and taken Kennedy out, and I took a long, hot shower to make up the difference for the abbreviated one of the night before.

  Checking my messages, I saw two from my former colleagues at Cripke, Cripke, and Stokes. One was from my ally, the other, my enemy. Once I’d listened to them both, I wasn’t sure which one was worse for Libby, or how to get around the wrench Carl was so gleefully throwing into the attempt to get Libby and Oliva what they deserved.

  My stomach was full of angry wasps stinging at my insides I dialed Libby. The one thing I wasn’t going to do was leave her out of the decision-making. After all, it was her home, her memories, and the belongings that she and Andrew had collected together that were suddenly up for grabs. How it was to be handled had to be her decision.

  Chapter Ten

  Libby

  I hadn’t expected to hear from Tucker at all after Id acted like an idiot in front of him. He was so upset when he delivered the news
just hours later: the house and so many of my expensive and beautiful things were already gone, made to look like they were given away, so that I couldn’t demand money for them. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I’d never expected to see those things again, unless circumstances forced me to go back to my old home.

  But when Tucker relayed to me the news that the photos and albums that I’d been fighting to give Olivia, memories of her father and his childhood that she could keep with her for the rest of her life, had been destroyed, it was hard to hold back the tears. I asked Tucker to come over and have supper again, in exchange for some company, a little hand holding, and to translate the email he’d sent me into layman’s terms, since I was sure I was not completely understanding all the legalese he’d thrown in.

  He offered to bring dinner with him, and that left me an afternoon to cry, lavish my sweet girl with attention, and get cleaned up before Tucker showed up, hopefully with enough pizza to make me sick, right before I passed out from the carbs.

  I checked the pantry for baking supplies and got out Olivia’s little pink apron. Just as I was ready to make cookie dough and pretend the evil world of selfish grown-ups didn’t exist, she demanded a playdate with D’Ante, because he had Legos and didn’t mind if she wanted to play princesses. A quick call to Shaunte, and suddenly I was all alone for the day. When I mentioned Tucker was coming back and why, Olivia found herself with a sleepover invitation, and I had the house to myself.

  I walked Olivia down the narrow street that bisected the gated community we lived in and, at her request, waited as she skipped up the walkway and knocked on the door, all by herself. Shaunte answered and D’Ante pushed past her and escorted his best friend in like she was a real princess. She gave him a curtsy and they disappeared inside the house without a wave or a goodbye. I laughed and waved to Shaunte, and heard her intonation of, “Good luck!” follow me as I strolled back toward home.

  For a Saturday afternoon, the neighborhood was quiet, the children all playing inside because of the heat, and I suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable despite the bright sunshine of the day. It wasn’t until I was locking the door, and glanced out the window, that I saw a curtain move on a window a few houses down, and could have sworn I saw the man who Tucker had chased off the night before. I tried to forget the chill that had swept down my back and made my hair stand on end. I had a chance to make things right with Tucker. I wasn’t going to let some paranoia about an over-familiar neighbor turn me into a needy, pathetic, clingy wimp.

  I took a second shower and locked the door, even though I was alone. I styled my hair with the doors open, however, so no one could walk up behind me without me seeing them in the mirror. As I was applying makeup, I realized that I had started acting like I was in an episode of Law and Order, and made myself close the bedroom door. Even so, when my phone rang, I just about jumped out of my skin.

  My closet became the enemy, as I tried to pick out something that wouldn’t send the wrong message, but also didn’t make me look like an old, flabby dumpling. I finally settled on my favorite sundress, just as my phone buzzed with a message from Tucker, that he was about ten minutes out. I threw everything back in my closet, dumping it on the dressing bench and floor, and kicking the door shut.

  I put a white wine in the fridge, and uncorked a red, because I didn’t know what he was bringing for dinner, and checked my makeup in the mirror by the front door. I couldn’t explain the butterflies in my stomach, so I ignored them, and quickly tried to pick up any messes Olivia had left around the house before he walked in.

  The doorbell rang, with a light knock behind it. When I answered it, Tucker was almost hidden behind the takeout boxes of Thai food he’d brought. He went to the kitchen without a word, and I trailed him like the puppy that was missing from his side.

  “Where’s Kennedy?”

  “Well, when you told me that Olivia had a sleepover, I thought maybe Kennedy deserved one too. She’s at George’s for the night.”

  “Wow. You going to be okay, going home to an empty house?” I teased.

  “Maybe, if I had any intention of going home tonight.” I sucked in a breath and my stomach quivered.

  “I didn’t ask you here to spend the night, Tucker. I don’t need to run into your arms every time the world is unfair.” He glanced up at me, then went back to dishing up dinner.

  “I’m not spending the night here because the world was unfair to you, Libby. I’m staying because I am tired of both of us not saying what we mean. I want to help you, and I’m not leaving until we have a solution that is best for Olivia.” I released the breath I was holding and made myself busy so he couldn’t see my embarrassed blush. Of course he was here about business. That I’d thought he wanted anything else from me was my own stupidity.

  He set plates at two of the place settings at the table and I added a glass of wine next to each. I waited for him to seat himself, but he stayed standing until I joined him next to the chair he was holding onto.

  “You look lovely, Libby,” he said softly as he pulled out the chair for me. My hands shook and my knees were rubber. I swallowed hard and tried to smile at him.

  “You want us to just say what we mean, Tucker, really?” I asked, stepping up close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. “Okay. Tonight, I’m going to do what you say, and let you know how I feel.” I leaned up and kissed his lips, gently. Even as I did it, my brain was screaming at me to stop, step back, give myself an escape route.

  My body even complied, after that first soft contact, I pulled away, afraid to look in his eyes. His fingertips appeared in my line of sight, as I stared down at the floor. He tipped my chin up, and brought his mouth down on me with bruising strength, driving his tongue into my mouth as his hands roamed my body. When he finally released me, I stumbled back into the wall and held on, afraid my legs would finally give out on me.

  “How hungry are you?” He asked, with a warning glint in his eyes. I shook my head, equal parts exhilarated and afraid, and he pulled me against him again.

  “We should go upstairs.” I offered, but he shook his head.

  “We should go to the living room. I won’t make it upstairs. I need your dress off, and you on me. Now.” My eyes flew wide at his command, but he lifted me off the floor and held me as he kissed my neck, his hands under my rear holding me high enough that I could wrap my legs around him.

  “This isn’t what I thought would happen,” I gasped, as he yanked my dress down over my hips and let it fall to the floor.

  “I think we should stop thinking so damn much and just let go. I want you, Libby, but I care about you, too. Let me give you what I have and let’s see where it goes from there.” I nodded numbly, and he kissed his way down my body, gently lowering me to the sofa and kneeling in front of me as he reached my belly button. He spread my knees apart and kissed me lower, his mouth a hot, wet lightning rod on my skin, stoking my fire with every stroke of his tongue, and building the flames with his fingers as they slid inside me, slowly, gently thrusting over the front of me and dragging me to the precipice as the pressure built inside me. I dug my fingernails into his back, just to stay afloat, as his tongue replaced his fingers in me, thrusting and stroking me while I begged him to let me take off his pants so he could finish with me.

  He ignored my pleas and spread my knees farther apart, his hand and mouth pushing me closer to release, ignoring my wishes until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I grabbed his hair and pulled it until he had to follow, and I reached for his belt with my other hand.

  “I need you inside me, Tuck. Please, just give me this.” He stared into my eyes as he undid his belt and pants, dropping them to the floor with even less ceremony than my dress. He picked me up and swung me around so that he was sitting on the cushion, and I was straddling him. He was so hard, he was pressed against his stomach, and I curled my fingers around his shaft and pulled it back just far enough to sheath him inside me.

  The sensation was almost too much, and he hel
d me close and whispered sweetness in my ear, as I found my bearings. I lifted off him and pushed back down, setting my rhythm long and slow, trying to hold off long enough to bring him before I came, but the slick heat of him inside me, as he kissed my neck and shoulders, his hands on my breasts and ass, were too much, and I clenched tight around him as I came in wave after wave of pleasure, deafened to my own cries as I felt him press me down hard on him. He throbbed and spasmed inside me, spilling into me with a growl as he held my hips down on him.

  He laid his face against my breasts, rubbing them with his cheek. I was paralyzed, too heavy with afterglow to pull myself out of his arms, and I laid my head on his shoulder and let him hold me, even while I held him inside me. Dinner could wait a little while more, I decided, as I snuggled down to touch more of his skin. We only had so long before my brain began to win again, and my heart needed as much of him as I could get.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tucker

  The sky outside was pink and gold when I picked Libby up and carried her upstairs to the bedroom. Her long hair hung down my back, tickling between my shoulder blades, as she rested her head on my shoulder.

  “You aren’t going to tuck me in and go home, are you?” She asked quietly. She lay on the coverlet still and quiet. She watched me with a face that was carefully neutral, waiting for me to reject her, or claim her. She made my chest tight, just looking down at the shape of her on the bed.

  “I’ll go home, eventually,” I replied, trailing a finger along the curve from her shoulder to her hip. “I’m in no hurry to go.” I leaned over and kissed her soft mouth, running my fingers through her hair and pulling her head back to expose the long, sensual curve of her throat. “When I go, are you going to run and hide from me again?” I meant it lightly, but she pulled away from me and sat up, hugging her knees to her chest.