Billionaire Romance Box Set: Weeks Complete Collection: Weeks Romance Series - The Complete Collection

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “I think,” he said, “that I will let you make that call.” I arched my eyebrows.

  “You’re going to let me make the call?” I repeated. “You won’t let me order my own dinner, but the intern versus sex deal is up to me?” I shook my head. “You’re not playing fair.”

  I sat back and concentrated on my glass of wine.

  “I’m leaving it up to you, Becka,” he said, reaching for my arm and pulling me back toward him, “because you just asked me not two minutes ago to have more respect for your decision making skills.”

  I rolled my eyes at him, but he kind of had me there. Go figure, I thought; the billionaire outsmarted the grad student. Story at eleven.

  “I think,” I said, “that we should enjoy our dinner, and you should let me think. By the way, what are we having for dinner?”

  Just as I asked, our salads arrived, along with an appetizer that looked absolutely delicious. We began to eat, and, for at least the time being, we left behind the nature of our business relationship.

  “Tell me about your family,” I said through a bite of salad.

  “I told you. Both of my parents are deceased.” His face didn’t betray any emotion when he said this.

  “I know,” I said. “But what were they like when they were alive? What did they do for work? Did you get along with them?”

  “You’re full of questions,” Oliver said as he placed his hand on mine. He grabbed an escargot with the tiny fork and popped it into my mouth. “More eating, fewer questions.”

  I chewed on the escargot, which was delicious in its butter wine sauce, and watched him. Maybe talking about his parents was a really painful topic for him. I was about to change the subject when our meals arrived.

  I looked at my plate and smiled at Oliver. It was beef wellington, potatoes, and vegetables. It looked and smelled like only something a billionaire could afford.

  “It looks really delicious,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “I do have a knack for knowing what people will like,” Oliver said, winking at me. He cut into his beef wellington and took a bite. He moaned quietly. “So tender,” he said. “Try it.” He took another small bite onto his fork and brought it to my mouth. I took it off the fork and began to chew, the beef melting like butter in my mouth.

  He leaned in and kissed me, licking my lips softly. “You taste better than the finest beef wellington in the universe.”

  I laughed. “That’s a compliment I never expected to hear,” I said, cutting into my own dinner. I could still feel the warmth of his lips on mine, and I brought my fingers to my mouth. I ran my thumb across my lips, then took a sip of wine.

  I could tell throughout dinner that Oliver was waiting for me to confirm that I would be his intern. As we ate, our conversation was somewhat stilted because he was distracted. When dessert arrived, a flambé with peaches and strawberries, I turned to him.

  “Here’s my answer. I will be your intern, because it’s good for my career and because I think I can help move your company forward with my research. Is it a paid internship?”

  “Of course,” Oliver said. As soon as I’d said I would take the job, a huge smile had broken out onto his face.

  “Then you have a choice. I’ll take it paid, and we cannot sleep together again, as long as I’m working for you.” His eyes narrowed. “Or, I’ll take it unpaid and you’ll call me a volunteer, not an intern, and we can continue to see each other socially.”

  “You need the money,” he pointed out.

  “Yes, I do,” I said evenly. Inside I was shaking. Outside, I was trying to remember that I was negotiating with someone who had negotiated million dollar deals to his advantage.

  “I don’t like your options,” he said. He shook his head.

  I shrugged. “It’s simple,” I said. “Do you want this,” I gestured at my body, enveloped in the dress, “or do you want this?” I tapped my head just above my temple. My insides shriveled as I heard myself basically say he could have my body if he wanted it, but, as I looked at him in the darkness of the restaurant, the energy of his kiss still lingering on my lips, I was prepared to offer him that.

  “I want them both,” he growled, leaning in to me. “And I’m not used to having to make choices. I want your body and I want your brain. One does me no good without the other.”

  I looked at him, not speaking. Say something! my brain screamed. I held my breath instead.

  ***

  I stood in Oliver’s bedroom in my red dress, a glass of red wine in my hand. I’d taken my shoes off and I was about to lose the dress.

  Oliver reached to me and took the glass of wine from my hand. He stood before me, shirtless, and I brought my hands to his chest, placing my cool palms against his warm pec muscles. He reached up to my shoulders and, with his index fingers, pulled the straps of my gown from my shoulders. They fell toward my biceps, loose and long. He reached behind me and pulled me toward him, at the same time slowly unzipping my dress. When he pulled away, the dress fell from my body and landed in a circular pile around my feet. I stepped out of the gown and toward him.

  He kissed me, reaching for the back of my neck, running his fingers through my hair. He gave it a gentle tug and I groaned, feeling myself getting wet—wetter, since I’d been feeling the tingling sensation of arousal since we’d gotten into the limo to drive back to Oliver’s place. I kissed him and gently bit his lip. He pulled my lips away by pulling on my hair, and he looked at me.

  “I like when you bite me,” he whispered.

  “And I like when you pull my hair,” I whispered back.

  He walked me over to the bed and I laid down on it, spreading my legs immediately to let him lie between them. Feeling his body pressed over mine, chest to chest, belly to belly, I felt myself beginning to let go of all of my concerns. He kissed my belly, licking the soft flesh around my navel, and then moved his face down to my pussy. I bent my knees and slid toward him. He reached for my hips and pulled me roughly toward his face. I giggled, and he slapped the back of my thigh. The sensation of the slap went straight to my clit and my giggle turned into a gasp.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  I groaned in response, and he slapped my thigh again. Again, it felt like an electric shock straight to my clit. He began to lick my clit, which felt larger than life. He alternated sucking on my clit with gently biting my inner thighs, and my body nearly exploded. I squirmed under his touch, wanting him to take me fully into his mouth, wanting him to fuck me, wanting him to consume me. Touch me cell to cell. It was as though I couldn’t get him close enough to me. I wrapped my legs over his shoulders and he buried his face in my pussy, putting two fingers into my vagina as he sucked my clit. His fingers drew in and out in the same teasing way his tongue and teeth were operating. I moaned in delicious frustration, shifting my hips to get more direct contact.

  “I don’t like taking no for an answer,” he said quietly.

  “I never told you no,” I said. “Ahhh, fuck, that feels so good!” I gasped as he ran his thumb over my clit, circling it, then switching back to his tongue.

  “But you want this to end….” He pulled his face and his hand away from me. I shuddered with the emptiness. He unzipped his pants as I watched, pulling them off along with his boxers and tossing them aside. “Which felt better, what I was doing before, or this?”

  “What you were doing before,” I said, staring at his cock standing out from his body. It was full, rock hard, quivering with a life of its on in the light reflecting from the moon outside.

  “Which will feel better, when I put my cock into you and fill you up, or how you feel right now?” I looked at him longingly. That question was the most rhetorical ever asked. He knew it, too; he climbed on top of me and slid his cock into me, riding on my arousal easily until he was fully inside. He began to thrust against me, pumping in and out, slowly at first, then gaining speed and intensity as sweat began to glisten on his chest.

  I felt myself climbing to orgasm
quickly and steadily. I reached my legs around him and pulled him close to my body, so that with each thrust I felt a surge of energy to my clit. When he finally brought me to my climax, I felt as if I’d just climbed a long hill and was now flying down it, suspended off of the earth, riding on air. I cried out over and over as waves of pleasure flowed through me. His body grew rigid and I pulled him to me more tightly as he came into me, pumping his cum into my body. He grunted once and moaned, his volume increasing with each of his final thrusts.

  When he was finished, he rolled off of me and I immediately rolled toward him. He put his arm around me and pulled me close to him.

  “The internship will be paid,” he said.

  Oliver

  Monday mornings are always my busiest day of the week, largely due to the fact that they are busiest days for other people, my clients included. Megan had scheduled me for nearly back to back meetings from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon. When four finally rolled around, I quickly walked to the on-site research lab. Anticipation built in my stomach.

  I had agreed to Becka’s ridiculous arrangement, which meant that, following our tryst from a few nights ago, we were boss and employee, no longer lovers. I shook my head as I walked down the hall. I can’t stand when I make a bad deal. It makes me edgy and affects my digestion. I hurried through the safeguards designed to secure the lab, and walked into the huge, open space. I looked around, scanning all of the white coats standing and walking around. I employed several hundred people in the building, but the lab was the most understaffed, so I was able to see Becka right away. She stood out from the rest of the researchers in a way I couldn’t have described if I’d tried. My eyes trained right on her, and my body immediately began to respond.

  I took a deep breath and put my hand in my pocket, trying to keep myself calmed down. Her beauty was staggering, even in a lab coat with her hair pulled back and no make up. She saw me watching her and smiled.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Weeks,” she said, waving to me.

  I gritted my teeth. We were back to Dr. Weeks. I smiled and walked over to her.

  “Miss Jasper, a moment?” I pulled her to the side wall. “How are you?” I asked. “Is everything going okay? Do you have everything you need?”

  She smiled and I wished that she hadn’t; her smile lit up the room and only made the ache in my groin worse.

  “Everything is awesome… Oliver. Thank you for the opportunity, and thank you for respecting my wishes.”

  “As long as my sacrifice is worth it,” I said, “I don’t mind… much.” That was a lie. I minded a lot, and it had nothing to do with any advancements she made in my research lab. At least with her in my lab, I could keep an eye on her. “You can go back to work, Becka; I just wanted to say hello.” She smiled at me and walked away. When she rejoined her group all peering at iPads, someone nodded his head in my direction and Becka smiled, shook her head no. I watched her work for almost an hour, trying to be discreet by walking around the lab and checking in with the different groups. When I left the lab and returned to my office, I went straight to my private bathroom. I needed a cold shower.

  Becka

  Working in the Neuotova lab was everything I’d dreamed it would be and more. The science they were working on was incredible, and I knew that I’d be able to use my work in their lab on my dissertation, as well as the work I did with Dr. Evans on Protame. Every day of my first week, Oliver came to check on me. He disguised it as quality assurance, but I knew it was because he missed me.

  I knew this, because I missed him, too. The ache I felt in my stomach every time he walked in and out of the lab was both painful and distracting. Each night when I got home, I spent time researching, meditating, really, trying to figure out what to do. I realized what I was really trying to uncover was a way to get out of my own rule. I’d told Oliver I wouldn’t sleep with him and get paid for the internship. Without the pay, I couldn’t afford to eat. But, I missed being with him more than I could have ever imagined.

  The week moved slowly and, by Thursday night, I was at my laptop in my pajamas by seven o’clock in the evening, a glass of wine in my hand. I’d decided to take a different angle on my Neuotova research by looking to their main competitors. There were two, one other in the United States, and the other was in Russia. I’d always thought Russia was an odd country for a food science company, and the majority of business analysts seemed to agree with me. I searched their articles, looking for signs of Oliver or Neuotova.

  I was fascinated by everything I was reading. I used my professional access to get at some of the deeper, less accessible articles, and completely lost track of time. My phone pinged at ten o’clock, a reminder for me to write in my journal, and I jumped at the sound. I sighed, took a drink of my forgotten wine, and turned off my reminder alarm.

  An article at the bottom of the computer screen caught my eye. I opened it and began scanning. When I saw Oliver’s name I slowed down and leaned in. As I read, an ache of a different kind began to form itself in my stomach. The article named ten CEOs of companies worldwide who had, allegedly, lied under oath in a hearing to determine punishments for animal experimentation in food labs. I had heard of most of the other CEOs on the list, largely through research for my dissertation. They were unethical, cold businessmen whose sole objective was to pad their pockets with more money. Oliver’s name did not belong on this list. I continued to read the article and stopped, stunned, when I read a quote attributed to Oliver. “We feel bad about the suffering of animals, but, the truth is, sacrifices must be made on all levels if we’re going to make the strides in nutrition and food science that we need to make as an advanced species.”

  I felt nauseous. I looked at my wine and decided against it. I turned my computer off and walked into the kitchen. Lisa had left a note that she was going out for the night and may or may not be back before morning. I was on my own. I looked at my phone in my hand. Normally, I would text Oliver. Seeing him would make me feel better instantly. But, if I texted him, I felt like I would need answers to questions I hadn’t managed to fully form yet. Oliver had said since the night I first heard him lecture that Neuotova abhorred animal testing and would never participate in it or in anything even remotely similar. He said that he contributed regularly to PETA and other organizations specifically designed to combat animal cruelty in the world. Yet, this article had named him as an evil figure in the world of animal cruelty. Who was I to believe?

  I unlocked my phone to text him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I poured another glass of wine. Then another, and another. After the fourth glass, I felt ready to text him.

  I need to talk to u, Oliver. About our deal, and about some other things. Can we meet for dinner soon?

  It was such a different type of correspondence from what I was used to with him. I looked back at our texting history and realized this was the longest we’d gone without texting in the time we’d known each other. While I was reading through our history, he texted back.

  Of course. Tomorrow night?

  I replied, Yes. Somewhere casual.

  Is everything alright?

  I looked at his text, my fingers hovering over the keypad. I had no clue how to answer that question. Was everything alright? I genuinely did not know.

  EXCITING Weeks

  6. An Alpha Billionaire Romance

  Sarah Brooks

  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Brooks

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Facebook: Sarah Brooks

  Becka

  “Dammit!” I sat back away from my laptop and sighed, dropping the lid down to turn it off. In the last month or so that I’d been working for Oliver, I’d been continuing my research into his company, Neuotova, but my computer had been getting slowe
r and slower and had finally succumbed to whatever virus was trying to attack my system. Every time I tried to open a new screen, some random popup would prevent me from doing anything. I knew it was a simple fix; I could take it into Neuotova’s tech department… but I didn’t want anyone to see what I’d been searching for. First, it would raise a tremendous amount of suspicion about my relationship with Oliver. Anyone looking at my search history would know I was completely obsessed with him. What they wouldn’t understand from my computer, though, was that the obsession was mutual. Of course, explaining to Oliver why I was researching anything on the internet that tied his name in with animal testing, animal mistreatment, animal experimentation, or animal captivity… that would be a whole new level of difficulty.

  I thought about when I had first seen the list of CEOs who had basically admitted that they tested their food additives on animals and experimented with animals and food, sometimes in fatal ways and seen Oliver’s name on that list. It still made my stomach do flips whenever I thought about it, how wrong it seemed that his name had appeared on the list, and how I couldn’t imagine that he, who had publically taken a very severe view on anyone who experimented with animals, could have ever been involved in any way with the other CEOs on the list. Yet, the more I researched Neuotova’s practices, the more holes appeared. Holes that couldn’t be explained away by simple research error.

  I had wanted to talk to Oliver immediately. I’d texted him to meet the next night and he had agreed, of course, because he thought I just wanted to see him. I’d canceled the next morning, citing a headache, and we had been following our rules about not seeing each other outside of work ever since then. I missed him terribly; my body ached for him and every time I closed my eyes, his face would appear in the darkness against my eyelids. I watched for him at work constantly. He tended to visit my lab space at least once a day, and then it was a delicate dance of trying to memorize his face, his body, look for changes, anything new or different—all while trying to look like I wasn’t the least bit interested. I had the feeling I wasn’t fooling him. He certainly wasn’t fooling me; I caught him looking at me far more often than he wasn’t.