All That He Desires (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 2) Read online

  ALL THAT HE DESIRES

  The Billionaire’s Seduction

  Part 2

  Olivia Thorne

  To be notified about future book releases,

  email me at [email protected]

  Books By Oliva Thorne

  Contemporary Erotic Romance

  ALL THAT HE WANTS

  The Billionaire’s Seduction Part 1

  ALL THAT HE DESIRES

  The Billionaire’s Seduction Part 2

  ALL THAT HE DEMANDS

  The Billionaire’s Seduction Part 3

  ALL THAT HE REQUIRES

  The Billionaire’s Seduction Part 4

  Part 4 Coming Soon! Email [email protected] to be notified when Part 4 is available!

  Historical Romance

  (Pen Name Amelia Nolan)

  PASSION AND PRIDE

  Master and servant, aristocrat and commoner... Passion brings them together, but pride will tear them apart. When Marian is in danger, will Evan risk everything - his fortune, his title, his life - to save the woman he loves?

  ALL THAT HE DESIRES

  The Billionaire’s Seduction

  Part 2

  1

  5

  10

  15

  20

  Afterword

  1

  I’d known him for two hours and change when I let myself be seduced by his crystal blue eyes and movie star looks. Then I’d had crazy sex with him on the floor of the boardroom of the corporation where I worked.

  In retrospect, not some of the wisest decisions I’ve ever made.

  Certainly not the most cautious.

  But when a man looks and acts like Connor Brooks, caution gets thrown to the wind.

  He was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Certainly the most confident I’d ever met. He treated life like a game, and acted as though he held all the cards.

  He was infuriating… and intoxicating.

  And he’d swept me off my feet, both literally and figuratively.

  I had, in a moment of weakness, confessed that my brief time with him had been the happiest night of my life.

  Yes, he was that charming. And good-looking.

  And yes, the sex was that good.

  After I said it, he asked me to go with him: You said this was the best night of your life. So let’s keep it going. Maybe even make it the best weekend of your life.

  Come with me.

  When I protested that I had unfinished work that was due in my boss’s email inbox at 9AM the next morning (a Saturday morning, no less!), he whispered in my ear, Take a chance. Be that woman I made love to just now.

  Come with me.

  I so wanted to be that woman.

  And I so wanted everything I’d had for half an hour up in that boardroom.

  So I got in the Bentley limo as Connor held open the door.

  My life was never the same again.

  2

  The first thing I noticed was the plush leather of the seats – decadent, sinful, sensual. And the space! It felt like the car was way wider than normal. I could have stretched out in here and… uh… done stuff with room to spare.

  I scooted across the seat as Connor moved in beside me and closed the door.

  He pressed a button on a console in the door and spoke.

  “Hey, Johnny, take us up to the Strip, would you?”

  The limo purred into action, gliding like oil on ice as it merged into traffic.

  The Strip?!

  “We’re going to a strip club?” I asked, my eyes wide. I hadn’t signed on for that.

  Connor grinned. “We can if you want, but I was thinking of the Sunset Strip. West Hollywood? Clubs, bars, fine dining?”

  “Oh.”

  I felt both relieved and incredibly embarrassed at the same time.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

  “S-sure,” I stammered, totally thrown off my game – not only by the strip club thing, but by the environment. The only time I’d ever ridden in a limo was for prom, and that was a 20-year-old town car that smelled slightly fusty from all the spilled beer of a thousand bachelor parties.

  This? This was pure luxury, from the black leather to the widescreen television set into the wall that divided the cabin from the driver’s area. In fact, I couldn’t even see the driver. There was a plate of black glass that separated our little world from his.

  “Champagne okay? Or would you like something stronger?”

  “Champagne would be great.”

  He leaned over to the wall across from us and slid a small compartment to the side. There was a cold storage unit in there, from which he drew out a bottle of champagne.

  Dom Perignon.

  I think I’d gotten drunk on Dom Perignon once.

  Oh, no, wait… that was Thunderbird in the twelfth grade.

  Holy crap, I’m in a Bentley, about to drink Dom Perignon.

  To say I was intimidated was an understatement.

  Connor pressed another button, and a center portion in the wall across from us opened up to reveal a whole collection of glassware – champagne flutes, wine glasses, all those different fancy cocktail glasses you see in bridal gift sections.

  He poured two flutes of champagne and handed me one. I knew nothing about crystal, but I could tell that the glass was expensive just by handling it – surprisingly heavy for its size, but delicate to the touch and incredibly thin.

  He clinked his glass against mine. “To an excellent evening so far… and an even better night ahead.”

  I widened my eyes and smiled like, Oh boy… WHAT have I gotten myself into?

  I took a sip.

  Damn, that was good.

  I’m not a connoisseur by any means, but it was a lot better than any other champagne I’d ever tasted before.

  Of course, maybe it was entirely psychological. I’m sure anything drunk in a fancy glass in the back of a Bentley tastes better than average. Champagne… tap water… Kool-Aid…

  “I have to make a phone call,” he said, and tapped the door console again.

  I just nodded. I was too shell-shocked for anything beyond simple movements and even simpler sentences.

  You Tarzan, me Jane.

  Actually, it was more like You Mr. Bentley, me Jungle Jane.

  There was the sound of a dial tone from hidden speakers. Before the second tone began, a very male, very gay voice pierced the air.

  A very male, very gay, very ticked-off voice.

  “Connnnnnnnorrrrr, this had better not be the kind of phone call I THINK it is.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Sebastian,” Connor grinned, “but that’s why you make the big bucks.”

  “Dammit, Connor, why don’t you just skip buck-naked through life with an American Express Black Card taped to your forehead? It’d be easier on me, and it sure as hell wouldn’t crimp your style of torching every single meeting I set up for you.”

  Mr. Connor Brooks, skipping naked down the street… huh. That was an interesting visual.

  I giggled.

  “What? Who was that?” the gay voice snapped. “CONNOR, do NOT tell me you are blowing off the New York meeting to cavort with some random FLOOZY.”

  ‘Floozy’?

  I sat up ramrod straight, miffed as hell. “Excuse me?”

  “That’s RIGHT, Ms. Thing, I’m talking to you.”

  “Sebastian,” Connor barked.

  The speakers went silent.

  “Sorry,” Sebastian finally said in a chastened tone.

  “The lady you just insulted is Lily Ross,” Connor lectured. “Apologize.”<
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  “I said I was sorry,” the voice said petulantly.

  “Yes, you said it to me. Now apologize to her.”

  “Is she an investor? In that case, I am deeply – ”

  “It doesn’t matter if she’s an investor or not!” Connor shouted.

  “Okay, so she’s obviously NOT an investor,” Sebastian said, then added under his breath – but just loud enough to get picked up by the phone – “Floooo-zeeey.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand and giggled. Despite how much of a jerk the guy was trying to be, the bitchier he was, the funnier he got.

  Connor glowered. “Sebastian, you are treading perilously close to losing your job.”

  “You mean, the job where I make travel plans and schedule meetings that you blow off at a moment’s notice?”

  “Sebastian – ” Connor warned.

  “I’m SORRY, Ms. Ross. I do hope you will forgive my impertinence and accept my most abject apologies.”

  “That didn’t sound very abject,” I sniffed – although I wasn’t actually ‘sniffing.’ I was rather enjoying the surreal back-and-forth. If I didn’t have strong evidence to the contrary, I would have pegged Connor and Sebastian as some longtime gay couple who bicker endlessly.

  “Well, it’s as abject as you’re gonna get,” the voice shot back.

  I laughed out loud. He was just too funny not to.

  But Connor was seriously getting angry. “Sebastian – ”

  “I didn’t realize you were taking us to a comedy club,” I said, trying to divert Connor’s attention – and get in a little dig of my own. “He’s pretty funny… for amateur night.”

  There was an overly dramatic gasp on the other end of the line. “Oh no you didn’t!”

  “Oh yes I DID,” I said, then snapped three times – click, click, click. “In a Z formation.”

  There was a pause.

  Connor just stared at me. I grinned and shrugged.

  “Oh, I guess she’s alright,” Sebastian grumped. “A thousand times better than the last one, anyway – ”

  “THANK you, Sebastian,” Connor grimaced.

  I looked over at Connor, one eyebrow cocked. “You do this a lot?”

  “No,” he said, then added almost as an afterthought, “Not anymore.”

  I didn’t believe him.

  Of course he did this a lot. A pang shot through me.

  What, did I think I was special?

  Actually, until that moment… I did.

  And it hurt to realize I wasn’t.

  “Unh, unh, unh, honey child, I could tell you some stories from back in the day,” Sebastian clucked.

  “THANK YOU, Sebastian,” Connor raised his voice. “Now, onto business.”

  “Oh God, I tremble to ask.”

  “I want my regular. Two nights ought to do it, I think.”

  “You DO realize it’s almost nine on a Friday night, yes? And that they’ve almost assuredly booked it, yes?”

  “Make it happen.”

  “‘By any means necessary,’” Sebastian groaned. It sounded like he was quoting someone – and I was guessing it was Connor.

  “Yup. By the way, I’m hungry – you hungry?” he asked me.

  I actually hadn’t noticed it because of all the craziness that had preceded this moment – but when he asked, I realized I was. I nodded.

  “You like filet mignon? Lobster? You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

  “Uh… yes, yes, and no,” I answered, a little stunned. I think the last time I’d had filet mignon, it was to celebrate my college graduation. Lobster, I couldn’t even remember.

  Both of them together at one time? As they say in New York, fuhgedabboudit.

  Connor went back to Sebastian. “Have room service deliver my usual, times two, ten minutes after check-in.”

  There was another labored sigh. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of me persuading you to take the flight to New York.”

  “Nope.”

  “Reschedule?”

  “Yep.”

  “FINE,” the voice snapped, then switched to a much nicer tone as it addressed me. “Miss Ross?”

  “Yes?”

  “All former unpleasantries aside, try to keep him from destroying Los Angeles – and himself – this weekend, would you?”

  I looked at Connor with a bemused frown. “Uh… I’ll try.”

  “Best effort. If he’s intent on something, it’s going to happen anyway, so don’t throw yourself in front of the bus trying to stop him.”

  “Um… okaayyy… thanks for the warning…?”

  “Goodbye, Sebastian,” Connor said, not unlike the way a parent might tell an unruly child ‘goodnight’ after the second glass of water and the third ‘tuck me in.’

  “Toodles,” the voice signed off.

  Connor closed his eyes, shook his head, and then looked over at me. “My staff has the tendency to be a little more… familiar than they should. It’s something I should have nipped in the bud long ago, but… Sebastian has been with me forever. And he’s very loyal.”

  “He must be a grade-A doofus,” I said.

  Connor frowned. “What?”

  “Nine o’clock on a Friday night and still working? Isn’t that what you told me doofuses do?”

  He grinned as he recognized his own quote from earlier in the evening. “You realize, by extension, that would make me a douchebag.”

  I let his comment hang in the air for several seconds, not saying anything. Then I took a sip of champagne and peered over the edge of the glass at him. Your move.

  Connor laughed. “Sebastian makes considerably more than you do.”

  “Yeeeaaah, about that… we’re sitting in a Bentley, drinking Dom Perignon, while you talk to your assistant who apparently works all hours of the night for you.”

  Connor raised his eyebrows as though to say, Yes, and…?

  “I don’t know of any VP’s at Exerton who live high on the hog like that,” I finished up.

  “Yes, well, I’m a special VP.”

  “Special enough to rate a Bentley and bottles of Dom Perignon to impress li’l ol’ secretaries?” I asked, batting my eyes mockingly.

  It shouldn’t have bothered me. I should have known better. I mean, really – I had sex with the guy two hours after meeting him. What did I expect, a proposal and a ring?

  I should have thought it through before I got in the damn limo – if for no other reason than I wouldn’t have to be thinking through it now. I mean, this guy was gorgeous. He had an incredible expense account. He was driving around in a Bentley limo, for heaven’s sake. He must have had women throwing themselves at him constantly. And any woman who didn’t, he probably just turned up the charm on her and she folded instantly.

  Like me.

  It shouldn’t have bothered me.

  But it did.

  He gave me a tight smile that was more of a grimace. “Sebastian’s tales of my past are greatly exaggerated.”

  “I’m sure,” I said coolly.

  “Don’t do that,” he said quietly, his face suddenly very serious.

  “What?” I asked, genuinely confused.

  “Make it like what we did back there didn’t mean something. Because it meant something to me.”

  I looked away. I had to – my heart was fluttering.

  He probably tells every girl who steps in this limo that ‘it meant something to me,’ I told myself. It’s just another line.

  But it was a good one.

  “I’m just being stupid,” I muttered.

  “It sounds like you’re having a little buyer’s remorse.”

  “No…”

  I’m just regretting letting my feelings run away with me.

  “It’s just that I can see you using all this,” and here I gestured to the limo, “to impress women so they’ll sleep with you. And I’m kind of wondering if I’m just one in a long line.”

  He grinned – which was not what I’d been expecting.

 
“I’ve already slept with you, Lily. If I really was a cad, don’t you think that would have been it? Wham, bam, thank you ma’am?”

  Well… okay… he DOES have a point…

  Then he reached out, took my hand in his, and stared deep into my eyes. My heart fluttered a little more.

  He gestured to the limo with his champagne glass, like I’d done earlier.

  “‘All this’ is just window-dressing. You’re the main attraction. When I’m with you, I’m with you. You have my complete, undivided attention. It’s just you… and me.”

  “But when it’s over, it’s over, right?” I said with a trace of bitterness.

  I didn’t even think about what I was saying; it was like I had just heard a line of dialogue from a movie, not actually speaking the words myself. They just slipped out before I knew it.

  As soon as they did, my eyes widened. I expected the limo to slam to a halt and Mr. Connor Brooks to show me the door without further ado.

  Instead, he laughed.

  Again, totally unexpected.

  Then he cocked his head and looked at me, his eyes twinkling. “In order to know that, we have to take the next step, don’t we?”

  Another line, I mumbled inwardly.

  But another good one.

  He leaned in close, and I smelled that intoxicating scent of his – that masculine, exotic cologne that made me want his arms around my body. “I want to. The question is, do you?”

  I had a choice to make again – but this time I was slightly more level-headed than out on the curb.

  He hadn’t promised me anything except a night. Maybe a weekend.

  And it was stupid of me to think I was the only woman he’d ever swept off her feet.

  But I’d chosen to go with him.

  Because I really, really wanted to, consequences be damned.

  Did I still want to go with him, even though he wasn’t promising anything beyond tonight?