The Complete Bad Boy Billionaire Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

  It’s him.

  Holy fuck, he’s hot. The picture didn’t do him justice. The picture didn’t tell me how the sharp line of his jaw would look in the multicolored lights bouncing around the bar, the darker shadows emphasizing the chiseled lines of his face. The picture didn’t tell me that he would move like a jaguar, power barely contained in the frame of his body, each movement somehow sensual and strong at the same time.

  He’s coming right toward me.

  I resist the urge to look behind me, because this man—sex on two legs, an angel ripped from the pages of GQ but without the high fashion—cannot possibly want to spend time with me. Next to him, I might as well be dressed in sweats, my hair tossed up into a messy bun, half-asleep.

  Heads turn toward him as he approaches, but he never stops.

  I can feel my pulse pounding loudly in my ears.

  Then he’s closing the final gap between us, and I suck in a breath.

  “Hey,” he says, looking down at me, his green eyes lit from within by excitement. “You’re Jessica0607?”

  “Yeah,” I say hoarsely, and at the sound of his voice—smooth, deep, fucking gorgeous—my panties are even damper than they were a moment ago when I first laid eyes on him. “It’s not the most creative name, but it works for the Internet.” I swallow hard. “You’re AlecToday?”

  He laughs, a beautiful sound, his eyes locked on mine. Women are still eyeing him from all around the bar, but he doesn’t turn his attention away from me.

  I’m not a flighty woman. Yeah, I might pick up and move more often than the average person, but I’m not the kind of girly-girl who has to fan herself whenever a hottie walks by.

  Or at least I wasn’t.

  “That’s me. But you can call me Alec.”

  “Jessica,” I answer.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from him. All of me feels ablaze, and he hasn’t even touched me yet. He just looks into my eyes, then runs his fingers through his hair. The next moment, his face breaks into a half-smile that sends pure lust rocketing down my spine, landing in the space between my legs.

  Whoa, Jess, I tell myself sternly. Don’t even think about breaking the rule for this guy. You don’t even know him!

  My irritating inner voice is drowned out by Alec’s deep, smooth voice.

  “Well, Jessica,” he says, and for the first time I register his British accent. “Can I start by buying you a drink?”

  The suggestion in his voice sweeps me away. This is where it starts…but not where it ends.

  Chapter Six

  Alec

  Even from across the bar, she’s incredible.

  The black skinny jeans hugging the curve of her ass, the kitten heels giving her just a little extra height, the lacy black halter top that gives me a goddamn amazing view of the curve of her shoulders and arc to her collarbone—the ensemble works for her like you wouldn’t believe.

  Her body is perfection, lithe with delicate curves, and her face knocks me out: big expressive blue eyes that track my every motion as I navigate the crowd, full lips that part slightly when she notices me watching her as closely as she’s watching me.

  But what I see is nothing compared to what I feel standing a foot and a half away from her, leaning in close to be heard over the din of the bar.

  Assured confidence radiates off of her, but there’s a hint of uncertainty there, too, that I find absolutely irresistible.

  The only thing that saves me from turning into a quivering mess of nerves in front of her is the years and years of practice I’ve had in the public eye. I silently thank my asshole father for insisting that we get lots of experience in front of crowds, because my heart is racing a million miles an hour just looking at her, but I don’t let my anxiety show on my face.

  “Hey,” I say, looking down into her wide eyes. Standing this close, I can see that they’re a startling shade of blue, a rich blue that reminds me of deep water. “You’re Jessica0607?” Her username on the dating app was startlingly innocuous for the most gorgeous woman on the planet.

  “Yeah,” she answers, an easy smile forming on her face. “It’s not the most creative name, but it works for the Internet.” She swallows and then bites at her lower lip before continuing, leaning toward me so that she can speak into my ear. “You’re AlecToday?”

  It’s not until it comes out of her mouth that I realize what a goddamn stupid username it is, but what else can I do but play it cool? I laugh like it doesn’t matter, because in the face of this incredible beauty, almost nothing else does.

  “That’s me. But you can call me Alec.”

  “Jessica.”

  Her eyes are locked on mine. There’s a slight hitch in her breath. Exhilaration zings through my entire body, from my spine to my fingertips, and I know instantly that there’s something different about her.

  Whether that’s good or bad remains to be seen.

  For now, I have to get to know her a little more.

  Maybe a lot more.

  “Well, Jessica,” I say, and her lips quirk in a smile like she’s hearing me speak for the first time. “Can I start by buying you a drink?”

  “Start?” she says, a sly grin lighting up her face. “You can start with that. But I hope our night ends with something a little more exciting.”

  My breath catches in my throat, and my cock jumps to attention, just from the way the word “exciting” rolls off her tongue.

  It only takes a single drink for both of us to settle in, but during that time, the sparks that flew between us when I was walking across the bar toward her have accelerated into an inferno. I’m happy to let it burn me alive.

  It starts when she lingers next to my ear and says the word “exciting” like she’s devouring a hard candy made from possibility and lust. Her hot breath on my neck has my cock twitching blatantly inside the cage of my jeans.

  Then, Jessica banishes any uncertainty she was feeling by taking control of the situation. That’s a new experience for me. I can’t say I hate it.

  When she leans away, she looks back up into my eyes and seems to make a decision. “Let’s keep it to first names, okay?”

  It’s not really a question. “Agreed.” Perfect, I think. She’ll never know my true identity, and I can move on in the morning. A little voice in the back of my mind disagrees with this pact, but I shove it aside. Now that Jessica is so close to me—and even hotter than her profile picture suggested, which is pretty fucking hot—I want her lips on mine.

  I want her body on mine.

  I want….

  We’re crammed close together by the bar crowd, and I feel the electricity crackling between us as she sips the cocktail I bought her—something sweet I didn’t catch the name of—and answers each of my questions with just enough information to leave me tantalized and wanting her even more.

  “Is this your favorite bar?” I ask, taking the opportunity to slip my arm around her waist. She doesn’t resist my advance and instead smiles up at me.

  “Now it is.”

  “What was it before?”

  “What’s it matter, Mystery Man?”

  “I want to know all about you.”

  “There are better ways to do that.”

  “Like what?”

  She turns in my arm and steps an inch closer.

  “There are lots of ways to get to know a person. It doesn’t even have to be in a bar.”

  “No? Where’s your favorite place to get to know someone?” Her smile is the embodiment of sheer seduction, even though she’s making sure we’ll never truly get to know each other by limiting her answers to my questions.

  “My bedroom,” she says, her voice low and husky.

  “And what do you do there to get to know someone new?” Holy Jesus, do I ever want this woman, this vixen, this queen.

  “Compare Netflix queues.”

  We both burst out laughing. She is so stunning that when she stops laughing, I lean down, cup her face in my hands, and cover her mouth with mine, tasting
the sweetness of her drink on her lips and her raging desire on her tongue.

  Our kiss is electric. She moans into my mouth, pressing her body against mine, and I taste her one more time before breaking away. Her hand grips my wrist tightly, as if I might disappear unless she holds me in place, as I fumble for my wallet, pull out a pile of bills, and toss them onto the bar. Then I’m leading her out of the bar by the hand as fast as we can go.

  It’s five minutes to my apartment, and I kiss her so hard and furiously in the cab that by the time we’re in the elevator on the way up to my floor, we’re both panting. Her cheeks are flushed from the drink and the kissing, and I need to be balls deep in her an hour ago.

  I can’t get the fucking key to work in the door as she rocks on her heels, her arms wrapped around me from behind. Finally the door swings open and I turn, gathering her into me, sweeping us both inside and slamming the door shut behind us with my foot.

  Then we’re tearing at each other’s clothes, leaving a trail of shirts and jeans and shoes all the way to my bedroom. When we reach my bed and the back of her knees meets the mattress, I guide her down so she’s laying on her back on my plush comforter with the full weight of my body on top of her. I drag my tongue across her collarbone, pausing to pay homage to her breasts, then inch down toward the flat expanse of her stomach. My tongue dives into her pink, dripping slit, and I devour her as she writhes wildly against the white comforter, urgent gasps escaping from her throat as she clutches at the bedclothes, her frame trembling in violent spasms as she comes in my mouth.

  While she’s still quivering, shaking, and crying out incoherently, I push myself up and straddle over her middle, lining myself up between her legs. I’m so possessed by raw lust that I can’t even think straight, so it’s a miracle that I remember to grab and roll on a condom from the bedside table before I’m thrusting into her, burying myself to the hilt in one stroke, and she’s clenching around me, her tight walls massaging my cock. Fuck, she feels good.

  I drive the pace, faster, harder, and she takes it all, meeting me every time with a rise of her hips, drawing me in, drawing me deep, until at last I explode inside of her, ramming my release into her core.

  The strength of my orgasm is so powerful it makes my head spin. For several minutes afterward I lay beside her, my face flush against her neck, breathing in lungfuls of her light, clean scent.

  The peaceful moment ends when she rocks her hips against me, inviting me to go another round.

  I rise to the occasion. With enthusiasm.

  Chapter Seven

  Jessica

  Even a miserable Monday stuck behind my desk at the Colton-Hayes offices can’t quite kill my weekend buzz.

  Alec and I didn’t stop after the first time our bodies collided in a blaze of heat and passion, or even the second time. For the first time in my life, I spent the entire night entangled with a man who couldn’t get enough of me. He worshipped every single inch of my skin and every fold between my legs. Everything he did just made me wetter, hotter; made me want him more. The sun was rising before I even entertained the notion of stopping.

  At some point in the early morning, as I rode him in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, driving my weight down onto his cock with every thrust, I was overcome by a need to know more about this stranger who was lighting up every nerve in my body with electric pleasure. In that moment, my condition—no last names, no strings—seemed to border on the absurd.

  “Tell me your name,” I gasped, leaning down to bite his firm chest just above the nipple.

  He pulled my face up to his and kissed me hard and deep while I kept swirling my hips around him, pumping myself up and down his length. When he broke the kiss, he turned his face to whisper in my ear, “It’s Alec.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I let out a laugh that quickly turned into a moan as he picked up the pace again.

  While I make my way to the break room to refill my tea—I hate the aftertaste coffee leaves in my mouth, but damn, after an entire night of no sleep and serious physical activity, plus another two days trying to work off my insane sexual appetite with exercise, I need something—the logical side of me battles with the memory of the unbelievable connection between us.

  And it is unbelievable. Alec and I are complete strangers. The fact that just thinking about him sends shivers down my spine doesn’t mean that I should abandon my one-and-done policy.

  As I heat up the water in the electric kettle, I let my mind wander, thinking about his muscles, the way his arms flexed as he lifted me effortlessly, the piercing green eyes that lingered on the curves of my breasts, the lips that teased every inch of my skin over and over until I was quaking with desire…

  Even so.

  I hang a tea bag over the edge of the cup and frown as a memory creeps in unbidden.

  Michael, screaming at me, face purple with rage, fists clenched at his sides, because I’d dared to go home to visit my parents for the weekend without telling him first. Facing his fury, my stomach had grown cold and my legs tensed, getting ready to run.

  It wasn’t the only time he made me fear for my life.

  When I finally ended that two-year relationship, which had swallowed my senior year of college and the year after it whole, I swore to myself that I would never allow a man to hold such power over me again. Any partnership I entered would have to be one built on equal footing.

  Alec could be that man. The thought bubbles up from somewhere deep in my mind, but I push it away. I need to consider all of this very carefully.

  The mug of tea is steaming, the heat a pleasant contrast to the bitter temperature of the air conditioning in the office as I slowly retrace my steps to my cubicle.

  I can’t dive headfirst into anything with Alec, and not just because of what happened with Michael. The terms we agreed to on Friday night were that there would be no last names and no strings. It was supposed to be a one-night stand, and that was it.

  It won’t exactly put me on equal footing with him if I send him a message asking to see him again. He’ll know he has some kind of hold on me if I do that.

  On top of that, who’s to say he feels the same way about me? Even if we hadn’t spent the entire night feasting on each other, licking each other, slamming our bodies together, the boundary I’d set at the bar prevented us from exchanging the kind of information we’d need to in order to start a relationship. I remember his reaction when I suggested we keep it simple and only about sex—he didn’t hesitate. He wanted that privacy as much as I did.

  So, as much as I want to open the app and send him another message, I can’t. My cheeks flush pink at the thought of him and the intensity of what we shared together Friday night, the way my body spiked with adrenaline for the rest of the weekend, wanting desperately to be back in his bed as I went to brunch and did my shopping and cleaned my apartment, the clean masculine scent of him filling my mind and overwhelming my senses the entire time.

  That doesn’t stop me from taking my phone out of my purse twenty times over the course of the day and opening up a new message window, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

  Every time, though, I close the app without typing a single word. I just can’t find a way to reach out to him again without going back on my promises to myself, a way to breach the agreement we had without putting him in control of my emotions.

  My breath is shallow by the time I step out onto the sidewalk just after 5:00, the space between my legs aching with need for him. Ridiculous, I tell myself. You’re being ridiculous.

  When my phone buzzes in my purse, I stop dead on the sidewalk and rifle through my bag, snatching it up with shaking hands.

  It’s not a text.

  It’s not an email.

  It’s a message in the dating app.

  And it’s from him.

  Chapter Eight

  Alec

  I spend the rest of the weekend scrolling through the profiles on three different dating apps.

  Not one picture stands
out.

  The only image in my mind is of Jessica, her back arched, her breasts rising and falling as she works herself over my cock, head thrown back, blue eyes closed, as she gets off over and over again.

  This is not how I imagined this playing out. I was going to hit it and quit it as many times as possible in the big city.

  When she left on Saturday at noon, ten minutes after waking, she gave me a wink and a wave and didn’t look back as she headed toward the building’s elevator. Once she’d stepped inside, she seemed to notice me again, my shoulders and torso out in the hallway, unable to take my eyes off of her.

  She pressed the button to go down. “I’m glad you were available,” she called down the hall to me with a smile, a confident smile, on her face.

  I wanted to sprint down the hall in nothing but my boxers, block the elevator doors from closing, and sweep her back into my arms. I wanted to kiss her until she melted against me and then carry her back into the apartment, fuck her senseless in the shower, and spend the rest of the day in bed with her.

  Instead, I return her smile with a cocky one of my own. “It was a lucky break,” I say.

  Did I imagine a flash of longing in her eyes as the doors closed?

  Probably.

  Saturday and Sunday I search for someone to replace her.

  I fill out profiles on two new dating apps and scroll endlessly through the lists of eligible women.

  I check in with Nate and, in a fit of loneliness, invite him to spend Saturday evening with me. We make our way through every bar near the apartment I’ve rented. The women there can’t get enough of us. Nate does his best to be a decent wingman, and I return the favor. It’s easy to talk up his darkly handsome looks, and his deep brown eyes draw the ladies in like moths to a flame.