Because He Takes Me (Because He Owns Me, Book Two) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Read online

  “The one about the cast of Temptations,” she said. “Their real life romances? On and off set?”

  “Oh,” I said, vaguely remembering something about that showing up in my inbox. “No, I haven’t gotten around to it.” My mother was obsessed with soap operas, namely the show Temptations, and I’d made the mistake of watching it with her one day before I left for New York in an effort to bond with her. She was now doing everything she could to get me interested in it, even though the storylines were trite and melodramatic.

  “Well, you have a busy life I’m sure,” she said. “Have you found a job yet?”

  “No, Mom,” I said. “Not yet.” In fact, I’m not even looking for a job right now, I’m on the private jet of some billionaire who wants to use me for sex.

  “You will, honey,” she said. “You will. Now, tell me all about New York.”

  “I’d love to,” I said. “But I’m in the middle of filling out an application. Can I call you back?” I made sure not to say exactly when.

  “Of course, of course,” she said.

  There was a knock on bathroom door.

  “You okay, Lemon?” Callum’s deep voice demanded.

  “Yes,” I said. “Be out in a minute.”

  “Who was that?” my mom wanted to know.

  “Oh, I’m just at Starbucks,” I said. “Someone wants to use the outlet for their laptop.”

  “Oh! Okay,” my mom said. “Call back so we can talk about Ciara’s wedding.”

  “Okay,” I said, having totally forgotten about my sister Ciara getting married. She was way too young to get married, in my opinion, but there was nothing I could say or do.

  “Kisses!” my mom shrieked and then the line went dead.

  I smoothed my hair one more time and opened the bathroom door.

  Callum was standing there, his frame tall and commanding. “I just got word from the pilot that we’ll be taking off soon.”

  “Okay.” My stomach was already a mess, and I wondered what the take off was going to do to me. I was a nervous flyer on the best day, and I’d never been in a private jet before, never mind a private jet with one of the most gorgeous men on the planet.

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “No one.”

  “I heard you on the phone.”

  “It was my mom. It wasn’t important.”

  “You lied to her.”

  “What?”

  “You lied to her about where you were.” His blue eyes narrowed at me, the color darkening like a storm on a summer’s day.

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “Why?”

  “Because she doesn’t need to know every detail of my life.”

  He tilted his head, considering this. I realized how narrow the hallway we were standing in was, how close he was to me. Run. The word flashed like a neon sign, imprinting itself on my brain. I wasn’t scared or upset – but I had a weird premonition, a feeling I was about to go tumbling into something with Callum I wasn’t sure I could handle. Once we were in the air, there would be nothing I could do to stop it. If I left now, at least I would have a chance.

  “Are you in the habit of lying to people?” Callum asked.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Do you regularly hide things about your life when from the people close to you?” His tone wasn’t mad or accusing. He was asking like he was curious, like he wanted to know more about me. But there was something else – something under the surface, almost like he was collecting information about me and stowing it away, the way you would do when you were trying to make a decision about something.

  I thought about it. “No,” I said. “But my sex life is no one’s business but my own.” The words felt strange coming out of my mouth. Sex life. I had a sex life now. I’d never had a real sex life before. I wasn’t a virgin – I’d had sex with two guys in college, one I was dating for a few months, the other I’d dated for a year. Both of the experiences had been good – if not quite earth-shattering--, at least compared to the horror stories I’d heard from my friends.

  Callum nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer.

  He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but the pilot’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

  “Passengers, this is Flight AC112, headed for Tampa, Florida, arriving at approximately 1:13 pm. Please take your seats and buckle up for takeoff.”

  We found our seats, the two of us sitting next to each other in the middle of the plane, my body sinking back into the luxurious leather. I wanted more than anything to take an Ativan, which is what I’d done to get through the flight I’d taken from Michigan to New York, but I didn’t have any after Callum had crushed my pills at the bar the other night.

  The jet’s engines roared to life, and a moment later the plane began ascending into the air.

  I gripped the armrests hard, taking slow breaths in an effort to calm myself.

  “Nervous, Lemon?” Callum’s voice was in my ear, soft and teasing, his breath tickling my neck. He put his hand on my thigh, the way he’d done at the club, and I felt myself tense, heat rushing through my body, the adrenaline from the take off mixing with the intoxicating feeling of his hands on my body.

  “No,” I lied.

  “You’re lying again.” He took his hand off my thigh and gently took my hand from the armrest and put it in his own. “Try to hurt me.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Squeeze my hand as tight as you can. Try to hurt me.”

  “What? That’s insane, it’s –”

  “Do it.” His voice was gruff, commanding, the same voice he’d used on me at the club, and I shivered, then did as he said, squeezing his hand as hard as I could.

  “Oh, come on, Lemon,” he said, “you can do better than that.”

  I tightened my grip, squeezing him as hard as I could, but he didn’t move away or cry out or tell me to stop.

  He was so close to me that I could feel his shoulder pressing against mine, could feel his body heat through his shirt, could smell his cologne, and that, mingled with the anticipation of what was going to happen between us, swirled together into a heady, intense mix that was strong enough to block out any anxiety I felt about the takeoff.

  Finally, the jet leveled off in the air, and I let out the breath I was holding and loosened my grip on Callum’s hand.

  My stomach unclenched.

  “See?” Callum said, pulling his hand out of mine and flexing his fingers. “I’m bulletproof.” He glanced over at me. “Feel better?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed.

  “Good.” Then without warning, he leaned closer and brushed his lips against my collarbone before moving them to the hollow of my throat. His hand moved to my hip and he unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled it off me. He slid his hand around my back, inching it up under my shirt and rubbing the base of my spine with his thumb. “All I want to do is make you feel good, Adriana.”

  I loved the way he said my name, sexy and sultry, not like when he was calling me Lemon. When he called me Lemon, it was like he was teasing me, testing me. When he said Adriana, it sounded like a sexy promise, like he was a man who was going to teach me things I’d only ever dreamed of.

  “I want to feel good,” I said, before I realized it was a ridiculous thing to say. I blushed. I hated this! He was so good-looking, so sexy, just the way he talked, the things he said… I had no idea what I was doing.

  “You’re blushing again.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Callum put a finger to my lips. “I like it,” he said, and kissed my lips softly. “I like to know that I’m effecting you.”

  “You are effecting me,” I admitted, breathless.

  “How?” He kissed me again, just a tiny bit harder this time, sucking softly on my bottom lip for half a beat as he pulled away.

  “You just are.” My blush deepened.

  “Are you comfortable talking about your desires, Adriana?”

  “I don’t know.” His hand moved from the s
mall of my back to the front of my jeans, where he undid the button and slid the zipper down slowly. My heart raced and my pulse quickened.

  He pushed the sides of my jeans open and then dipped his finger down over my panties, pushing the sheer fabric aside and pressing against my slit before he gently spread my folds. He ran his finger over my clit, and I felt myself get wet.

  “You’re wet, Lemon,” he said, back in teasing mode, the blue of his eyes lightening with mischief. “Do you like me touching you like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I like you touching me like this.”

  “Where?”

  I looked away from him, embarrassed. Did he really want me to say the words? I wasn’t sure I could say something like out loud. “I like you touching me between my legs.”

  “Like this?” he asked softly, the tip of his finger dipping into my pussy, his thumb and middle finger keeping me spread open just slightly.

  “Yes,” I moaned.

  “And this?” He entered me a tiny bit further.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll bet you taste so good, Lemon.” His lips moved against mine again, this time his tongue darting into my mouth briefly before he took it away, giving me just a taste of what was to come.

  “I can’t wait to put my mouth on your pussy,” he said, “just like this.” He pushed his tongue into my mouth again, his kiss claiming me softly and slowly, his tongue swirling against mine, setting the pace. “I’m going to make you come harder then you’ve ever come in your life. And then I’m going to slide my cock inside of you and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked.”

  Anticipation and longing flooded my body, the sensation to intense I felt like it was consuming me. I wanted him to take my body, to own me, like he’d said he wanted to at the restaurant the other day.

  I wanted him, right here, right now, wanted him to take me back to that bed in the back of the plane and do all the things he’d just said to me, plus whatever else he wanted --- spankings, whippings, handcuffs, ropes. Whatever it was he wanted, I would agree to it. He was driving me crazy, so crazy I felt like I was losing my mind.

  But instead of doing that, he pulled his hand from between my legs and his mouth from mine.

  “But not yet,” he said.

  I had to literally bite back a scream of frustration, that’s how badly I wanted him. I couldn’t wait. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted him now, more than I’d wanted anyone, ever in my life. I hadn’t known I could feel desire so strong, and he’d hardly even touched me. The thought was exciting and disturbing, terrifying and thrilling all at the same time.

  “You should try to sleep,” Callum said. He reached inside his briefcase and pulled out a copy of the Wall Street Journal and began opening it. “We have a long night ahead of us. You’ll need your strength.”

  “Strength?” I asked. “Why will I need strength?”

  “Because,” he said simply. “The things I’m going to do to you will require a certain level of physicality, and it will serve you well to be well-rested.”

  He kissed me on my head and then turned back to his newspaper, leaving me sitting there, my mind and heart reeling.

  ***

  When we touched down in Tampa, I’d gotten a bit of a hold on myself. My head was still spinning from the things he’d said and the anticipation of what was to come, but my heart had stopped its erratic rhythm and my stomach had slowed the pace of its gymnastics routine.

  Callum ushered me into a waiting town car once we’d disembarked the plane. He was quiet during the car ride, spending most of the time staring out the window. I glanced over at him a few times. His jaw was set in a hard line, his head slightly bowed. It felt like he was working something out in his mind.

  Was he thinking about me? I wondered. About what he was going to do to me later?

  He caught me looking at him and reached out and took my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine.

  My heart leapt, and I had to force it to stay quiet.

  So what if he was holding my hand? He’d told me that under no circumstances should I think this trip meant anything more than it did – one night. That was all. Just sex.

  Ten minutes later, the car turned into a long winding cobblestone driveway in front of a house that made me gasp out loud. The exterior was a burnt orange color, with a fountain in front that spouted water from two different directions. Tall columns flanked the double door entrance, and palm trees and gorgeous plants with magenta flowers made up the landscaping.

  Two cars were parked in front, both of them black, both of them shiny and expensive-looking.

  The driver opened the door for me. “Miss,” he said, and tipped his hat.

  I stepped out onto the cobblestones and inhaled the fresh Florida air. The heat from the sun danced against my arms, and the humid air infused my skin. I shielded my eyes from the sun and took in the house. In the distance behind it, I could see the sun glinting off the ocean.

  “Do you like it?” Callum asked, appearing next to me with our bags.

  “I love it,” I said. “How did you find it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean this isn’t the kind of place that’s listed on hotels.com,” I said. “Is there like, some secret billionaire rental website that you use?”

  The side of Callum’s mouth twisted up into a grin, like he found me amusing and naïve all at the same time. “This is my house, Lemon,” he said as he began walking toward the front door.

  “You own it?” I asked, struggling again to keep up with his long strides.

  “Yes.” He produced a key from his pocket and inserted it into the front door, turned it until it unlocked with an audible click. He stepped inside and I followed him, dimly aware of the fact that he was entering a code into an alarm system until it disarmed with a beep.

  My breath caught in my chest.

  The inside of the house was even more gorgeous than the outside. Huge windows gave sweeping views of the ocean, and the whole first floor was one open space. The house was on a corner lot, almost a bluff, and the huge windows made it feel as if you were surrounded by the waters of the gulf.

  Tasteful and contemporary furniture dotted the open concept living room, a sectional and arm chairs, a gleaming glass coffee table with an abstract aqua blue sculpture sitting in the middle of it, a leather ottoman stacked with books and magazines.

  To the left of the main sitting area was a chef’s kitchen, complete with a fancy-looking wine cooler, marble countertops, a double oven and a huge island with an eight-burner grill.

  The whole back of the house was just a row of wide sliding glass doors that opened to a cobblestone patio. Through the glass I could see a gleaming infinity pool, the cool aqua water merging with the ocean behind it to give the illusion of one big body of water.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, walking to the sliding glass door.

  “Do you swim?” Callum asked, appearing at my side. He unlocked the slider and pushed it open, following it all the way around until the door slid into a pocket at the far side of the house.

  The effect was stunning and instant, making it seem as if you were outside by the ocean when you were really inside. The pool area was under a screened dome, allowing you to be outside without having to worry about bugs.

  “Yes,” I said. I loved the water, ever since I was little. “I mean, not competitively or anything. But I love the water.”

  “We will swim later,” he declared, and I blushed at the thought of doggie paddling around in front of him.

  “You’re blushing again, Lemon,” he said, walking back over and wrapping his arms around my waist. He pulled me toward him until I was resting my cheek against the hardness of his chest. The gesture was somehow intimate, and I closed my eyes, letting the warm breeze kiss my cheeks. I could feel the beat of Callum’s heart through his shirt, hard and steady, a stark contrast to my own heartbeat, which beat a staccato rhythm from his close
ness.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t apologize.”

  “Right.” I shook my head. “I just… it’s a bit overwhelming.”

  He pulled back and looked into my eyes, tilting his head and looking at me with a look I could only describe as fiercely protective. He pushed a lock of my hair away from my forehead and tucked it behind my ear. “Don’t be overwhelmed, Adriana,” he said. “Tonight is about pleasure, your pleasure above everything else. Nothing will happen that you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with and excited by. Do you understand me?”

  I nodded.

  But I wasn’t sure how that was possible, since I wasn’t even one hundred percent sure I was completely comfortable even being here in the first place.

  “There is a car waiting take you back to the airport whenever you choose,” Callum said. “The number is on the counter in the kitchen. There is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about if you decide you don’t want to stay.”

  I bit my lip. The thought of staying here with Callum for the night, of the things I was sure were to happen, made my stomach flutter and sent a shiver of nervousness skittering up my spine. But the thought of leaving, of not spending this night with him, filled me with a sadness and longing the likes of which I’d never felt before.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. “No, I want to stay.”

  He smiled then leaned down and kissed me again, his hands cupping my face, his kiss gentle and reassuring.

  When he pulled back, he glanced at his watch. “I have to go to a meeting,” he said. “You’ll be okay here?”

  It was a question, but it was worded half as a statement.

  I nodded.

  “There’s food in the fridge, and of course you can use the pool,” he said. “The master bedroom is upstairs, at the end of the hall. You can use the bathroom adjacent to it. I should be back around six.”

  “Okay,” I said, my throat going dry. I wanted to ask him what we would do when he got back, if he was going to take me anywhere, what we’d be doing. But I had a feeling that wouldn’t go over too well. And I was also afraid that if I knew the answer to some of the questions swirling around in my head, I would end up leaving while Callum was at his meeting.