My First Love Affair: A Bancroft Billionaire Brothers Novel #3

by Parker, Ali

  “Don’t stop!” I shouted, my body on the cusp of what I could feel was going to be a massive orgasm.

  He kept pumping, his body slamming against mine. I found myself being pushed closer and closer against the footboard until it was the only thing keeping me upright.

  “Fuck me, go!” he demanded.

  I knew what he was asking for and my body seemed more than happy to oblige. I erupted around him. Our shouts of pleasure mingling with one another as we both found our very explosive release. My heart was slamming against my chest, my lungs burning as I struggled to pull in air. His arm reached around my waist, pulling me upright to a standing position, his chest pushed against my back.

  “Are you okay?” he said between breaths.

  “I’m good.”

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  “No. I’m good,” I assured him.

  I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around him and holding his body close to mine, my face resting against his chest. I could hear and feel his pounding heart. We held each other for several seconds, neither of us talking. It was by far the most intimate thing we shared between us. Both of us naked and vulnerable in the afterglow of our joint orgasms.

  “Stay,” I whispered the word, almost afraid he would shut me down.

  His hand rubbed up and down my back. “Okay,” he replied.

  I stepped away and walked around the bed, pulling the blankets back before shutting off the light. He crawled into bed. It was odd to see him in my bed, but it was a sight I was quickly growing used to. I slid beside him. Unlike the first time we had our very abbreviated sleepover, I snuggled up against him, relishing in the feel of his hard chest under my cheek and his protective arm around me.

  If I let myself think about it too much, I knew I would make it weird. It was hard to imagine Mason and me together like this. After all the years we had known each other and hated each other, it was hard to believe we shared so many things in common. I couldn’t believe I had never seen it before.

  “Quit thinking and just go with it,” he murmured above me.

  I giggled softly. “You have to admit this is strange.”

  “Strange could never feel this good. My head is still spinning,” he said.

  I smiled against his chest. It had been pretty good.

  Chapter 21

  Mason

  I woke up, slowly coming to the surface after what had been a very good night’s sleep. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know where I was. I had stayed the night in Adelaide’s bed with her warm body cuddled next to mine. I couldn’t remember ever sleeping so peacefully. I had been conscious of her next to me most of the night. It brought a sense of peace and comfort to me I hadn’t felt since I was a little kid, snuggled under my favorite blanket.

  I opened my eyes and found her sitting in front of her mirror, putting on her makeup as she got ready for work. I watched her, finding a certain calm as I did. She was running a mascara wand over her lashes. It was so feminine and soft, a stark contradiction to the way she usually barked at me. I was seeing the real her. I marveled at her beauty, deciding she didn’t really need the makeup. I watched as she grabbed a makeup brush and ran it over her face, closing her eyes as she moved it around. Suddenly, her eyes met mine in the mirror. Busted!

  I waited for the glare, the snarling woman, ordering me to get out and not dare look at her. I was ready for the change. I expected it and I was ready to give as good as I got. I wasn’t going to be quite so nice this morning if she pulled the same bullshit she had the other morning.

  She turned around to look at me. “Good morning.”

  I blinked. That had been about the last thing I expected her to say. “Good morning to you. What time do you have to go in?” I asked her.

  She looked at her clock. “About fifteen minutes.”

  I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Does that mean a quickie is out?”

  She giggled. I had almost expected her to frown at me or throw something heavy at me and then order me out of her bed once again. “It is out. I can’t be late.”

  I sat up, the blanket falling around my waist. Her eyes dropped to my bare chest. I could see her staring at the tattoos. They were kind of like a diary for me. Each one had personal meaning. Few people ever really saw all of my tattoos. I didn’t walk around shirtless. The ones on my arm were basic, nothing overly special, but the ones near my heart, they meant something. I let her look, not caring if she saw the wings that were a tribute to Antoinette. She got up from her chair and walked toward the bed before taking a seat on the edge and leaning in to give me a proper good morning kiss.

  “Are you sure you can’t be late?” I asked.

  She got up from the bed. “I’m sure.”

  “I’ll give you a ride to work,” I told her, getting out of bed and beginning the process of finding my discarded clothing and getting dressed.

  “Okay,” she said easily.

  I had been waiting for her to politely decline. When she didn’t, I knew I had her hooked. The bike was an addicting machine. I emerged from her bedroom and found her putting on her shoes.

  “Do we have time for a cup of coffee?” I asked longingly, my body protesting being up and moving at the early hour.

  She rose from the couch and came to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Mason, I work in a coffee shop. I have my morning coffee there,” she reminded me. “I rarely, if ever, have coffee here.”

  “Oh, I guess that must be convenient.”

  “Most days it is. You can come in and get some coffee if you’d like,” she offered.

  I nodded. “I would very much like. I’m not used to these early hours.”

  “It takes a little adjusting, but it’s not so bad.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with her, but I certainly didn’t agree with her. I checked my phone, not really caring if I had any missed messages or not, before sliding it in my pocket and grabbing the two helmets. She took hers and stared at it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She grimaced. “I’m going to grab a hair tie. I don’t want helmet hair all day. I’ll pull it up when I get to work,” she said.

  I didn’t bother telling her the helmet hair she’d been sporting at dinner last night had been pretty sexy. If she would have known her hair was kind of frazzled, I was sure she would have been pissed. I didn’t want to destroy the peace.

  We headed downstairs, loaded up on the bike, and rode the very short four blocks to her shop. I followed her inside and took a seat at one of the tables.

  “You want something other than plain coffee?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m going to admit I know nothing about what you do here. I know coffee and that’s it. I’ve had espresso when I was in Europe, but that is the extent of my coffee knowledge.”

  She grinned. “I’m going to introduce you to the wide world of coffee and the many ways it can be made.”

  I grimaced. “That almost sounds frightening.”

  “Relax, big guy, I’ve got you,” she said playfully.

  I watched as she moved around behind the counter, starting various pots of coffee and turning on machines. She was like an Energizer Bunny, just buzzing around, back and forth, never stopping. Ten minutes later, she came out to the table to sit with me, carrying two cups of hot something.

  “What am I looking at?” I asked, almost afraid to taste it.

  “This is an americano. Hot and bold, and it is going to give you a quick blast of caffeine. It’s one of my favorites,” she said, sipping her own.

  I took a tentative drink, finding I liked the flavor and taking a much bigger drink. “Wow, that’s good.”

  “Trust me, I know coffee. I don’t order any of the cheap stuff. It’s all the best,” she said proudly.

  “I really don’t know the difference between coffees. I mean, I know shitty coffee, and I prefer dark and unflavored, but I couldn’t tell the difference between brands,” I confessed.

  “There is a difference. Onc
e you have had some of the higher-quality brands, it is difficult to go back to a cup of Folgers.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I told her.

  I looked around her little shop and noticed a plaque on the wall. I was trying to read what it said but couldn’t quite make out the words.

  She turned to look at what I was staring at. “It’s a plaque thanking me for a donation,” she said nonchalantly.

  “Donation to what?” I asked her.

  “One of my regular customers has a little girl. They had a softball team but couldn’t raise enough money to buy uniforms. He works as a janitor around here and lives in one of the lower-income areas. They were wearing plain T-shirts that they used black markers to write numbers on. The kids didn’t mind, but it seemed totally unfair. I bought them uniforms.” She shrugged.

  My eyes widened. “You bought them uniforms?”

  “Yes. They needed them and technically it’s a tax deduction for the business. Plus, I thought it was cool that they put my coffee shop on the shirts,” she said.

  I shook my head, looking at her and seeing her through new eyes. She was kind, generous, and very thoughtful. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. I was trying to remember why I had disliked her so much. The woman I was looking at was bubbly, funny, and really kind of laid-back, when she wasn’t buzzing around.

  “That’s very kind of you. Is that something that happens a lot?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Poor kids needing uniforms?” I asked her.

  She shrugged a shoulder. “I really have no idea. I only knew about it because of my customer.”

  I nodded, an idea forming in my mind. I made a mental note to check into it. I wasn’t sure where to start, but I had a feeling Colt would know. She inspired me. I wanted to help as well.

  “I’m really digging this coffee,” I told her.

  “Next time, I’ll get you to drink a cappuccino.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “So many names. How is a person supposed to remember all that stuff?”

  “Practice, lots of practice. I better get busy, I still need to load up the deli case,” she said, getting to her feet.

  She bent down and gave me another sweet kiss. I could taste the coffee on her lips and decided I wanted more. I reached up to put my hand on the back of her head, holding her in place while I gave her a proper kiss, tongue and all.

  She stood up, looking a little flushed before she walked away. I sat, sipping my coffee and watching her move around. She seemed so in her element. I realized I could watch her all day.

  “Do you want a bagel? Fruit cup? Yogurt?” she asked.

  I smiled, shaking my head. “No thank you.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said and went back to stocking her case up.

  It was another ten minutes of frenzied movement before she stopped and looked around.

  “Everything okay?” I asked her.

  “Yep, just making sure everything is ready,” she said, picking up a remote and pushing a button, soft music came on overhead.

  She turned on all the lights and unlocked the front door.

  “Can I hang out a bit?” I asked her, not wanting her to get mad and throw me out like she had yesterday.

  “Sure. I’ll make you another coffee if you want,” she offered.

  I shook the cup and realized I had already downed it. “Yes, please, but you have to let me pay for it. We’re on the clock now.”

  She scowled at me. “No. You’re not paying for coffee.”

  I wasn’t going to push it. I would let her be the queen of her domain. I had a new appreciation for her need to pay her own way. She was a hardworking woman who wanted to prove her independence. I admired that. Before, I had disliked that quality about her. I didn’t see it as her working hard to make something of herself. I saw it as an obnoxious trait of a woman who would steamroll over anyone who got in her way.

  I watched her work. She smiled and chatted with every person who came through the door. One of her employees arrived about an hour later, giving Adelaide a small reprieve. She came out to clean off a few tables before flopping down in the chair across from me.

  “Bored yet?” she asked with a smile.

  I laughed. “No. Watching you work is—interesting,” I told her.

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.”

  “It’s a good thing. I’m going to get out of here, though. I need to go home and shower,” I told her.

  “You’re not going home and going back to bed?” she teased.

  I pointed to my coffee cup. “Not after two of those things. I could probably run home with the fuel I’ve got pumping through my veins. I think I understand how you buzz around here at full-speed all the time.”

  She winked. “Now you know all my secrets.”

  “Not all, but I’m working on it,” I said, dropping my voice.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “I hope I can see you again,” I said, not sure how to leave things.

  She smiled, nodding. “Me too.”

  “Soon?”

  She shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

  I walked out of the coffee shop, then pulled on my helmet. I felt good. It was barely seven thirty in the morning, and I felt very alive. It had to be the combination of high-octane coffee, good sex, and a good night’s sleep. As I rode home, it seemed like everything was brighter. The colors in the sky were brighter, the smells of the city were stronger, and all of my senses were overperforming.

  This was what living was all about.

  Chapter 22

  Adelaide

  My legs were on fire as I pumped the pedals faster and faster, trying to keep up with Deanna and the other women in the spin class she was teaching. Deanna was a monster. Her athleticism was ridiculous. I had never been an athlete and never pretended I was. Deanna played basketball, ran track, and was good at everything she did. I was lucky if I could walk in a straight line and chew gum at the same time.

  My lack of athleticism always tended to come out when I showed up to one of her classes. This was a novice class and it was kicking my ass. I didn’t have the time to do spin class five days a week and was not in nearly as good as shape as the other women speeding along on their bikes on either side of me. They could pedal circles around me. I felt sweat rolling down my back. It was hard to imagine getting such an intense workout while sitting, but it was intense, and it was grueling.

  I was breathing hard and my chest felt tight as we closed in on the last few minutes of the class. Deanna was still talking, shouting out words of encouragement to all of us. It was the only thing that kept my feet pumping the pedals. I kept telling myself I could make it, just a little longer. I refused to quit. I wasn’t going to be the woman draped over her bike, sucking in loud gasps of air, begging for mercy. I would suffer in silence.

  I could do it. I closed my eyes, blocking out the pain and exhaustion, and focused on making it until the end. When I heard Deanna announce we had thirty seconds left, I dug deeper, finding the energy I needed to finish strong.

  “That’s it, ladies! You are all champions!” Deanna’s voice came through the little speakers in the corner of the room.

  I nearly wept with relief as I crossed the proverbial finish line and then collapsed over the handlebars. I could feel sweat dripping down the side of my face. Little pinpricks running up and down my legs as I slowed my breathing. My whole body was vibrating. I couldn’t move. I decided I was going to stay right there on that bike for the rest of my days.

  “You going to live?” Deanna asked from her spot up front.

  “I don’t think so,” I replied.

  “I think that means I did my job,” she said with a laugh.

  I groaned. “I can’t talk.”

  “You just talked.”

  “I can’t breathe.”

  “You’re talking; therefore, you are breathing,” she said dryly.

  “You should be a dominatrix. You lov
e causing people pain,” I grumbled.

  “It’s good pain. It’s the kind of pain you can be proud of when you walk out of here,” she reasoned.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, because I can’t walk out of here. I’m going to need a wheelchair,” I asserted.

  “You’re so dramatic.”

  “You’re so sadistic,” I shot back.

  I looked up and noticed everyone else had already filed out. I finally found the strength needed to get off the bike and walk on very shaky legs, with my water bottle in hand, to her. I sucked half of the water down before using the towel she handed me to wipe the sweat from my face.

  “I think that was harder than usual,” I complained.

  “It wasn’t. You need to do it more often,” she said.

  I looked at her and realized she had barely broken a sweat. “You suck.”

  “How did your dinner date with Mason go? I tried calling you yesterday.”

  I looked away, drinking more water. “Fine.”

  “Oh my God, again?” she exclaimed.

  I looked around, making sure there was no one else in the area. “Yes.”

  “Addy!”

  “I know,” I mumbled.

  “What’s the deal? I mean, what happened?”

  I gave her a dry look. “Deanna, don’t pretend you’re some innocent virgin.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, but wait, don’t tell me yet. Let’s go get a smoothie and sit down. I need to understand what is happening here.”

  I nodded, very much in need of something cold and some serious rehydration. I grabbed my bag and followed her into the tiny café inside the gym. We each ordered strawberry smoothies with an extra banana and took a seat in a far corner. It was fairly empty in the café, most people choosing to go home for dinner.

  “So good.” I moaned, letting the cold drink slide down my throat.

  “Don’t change the subject. What is going on?” she asked.

  I shrugged, sucking in a deep breath. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”

  “What is weird? Hooking up with him?”