Free BILLIONAIRE (Part 6) by Juliette Jones Page A

chest, flickering its insistence across his perfect face.  For some
reason, this made me feel uneasy.
    I
gave him a minute to finish typing his sentence, or whatever it was that he was
doing.  Then I lay back into the pillowy nest of Alexander’s bed, rolling
languidly across the expanse of it and displacing the covers in the process.  I
stretched again, wholly aware that Alexander was now watching me from under the
fall of his thick hair.  I was on my stomach and I arched my back and lifted my
hips as I rose from the bed.  The carpet was soft and cushioned under my feet. 
I stood in front of the window and its outrageous view, feeling like an
Olympian goddess surveying the land of the mortals.  It was indescribably
empowering, this feeling: of nakedness and wealth and a pronounced degree of
removal from all the worry and mundanity of hardship.  Nothing felt as good and
as safe as this buffer Alexander provided.  Anyone who ever said money couldn’t
buy happiness was deluded.
    I
padded over to him, closely circling his chair as I coiled a finger through the
coarsely silken locks of his hair.  “What day is it?”
    “Saturday.”
    “Your
work can’t wait until Monday?”
    “There
are a couple of issues at Jake’s company that need attention.  I’ve put it off
long enough.”  There was a curtness in his tone that was new.  He was
conflicted.  Pressing concerns at his companies had been cast aside for me and
me alone, for more than two weeks.  I knew this was unprecedented.  Alexander
had never taken a day off in his life until I’d walked into it.  I could have
felt flattered, or empowered, and I did.  Not only that, but I felt
possessive.  I was too used to owning his time completely; it was all I’d ever
known of him and I was more than a little reluctant to give him up like this,
even for a few hours.
    “So
we’re working today,” I commented blithely.
    His
dark eyes conveyed no emotion aside from a simmering, corralled lust.  “ We’re not working today, no.  I’m catching up on a few emails today, and I
might spend a few hours in my office this afternoon.  You’re relaxing. 
And tonight, we can go out somewhere.  If you want.”
    “I
don’t need to relax.  There’s only so much relaxation one person can handle. 
I’ve relaxed more in the past two weeks than I ever have in my life.”  It was
true, depending on how you defined ‘relaxation’; a lot of it had been
relaxation of the strenuous and somewhat kinky variety.  Either way, my
frustrations were on a roll.  “When do I get to start working?”
    Here
I was, naked, mussed-up from sleep and a sexual marathon that was as energetic
on the twentieth day as it had been on the first.  I was also marginally turned
on.  Too satiated from sleep and sensual satisfaction to be frenzied about it,
my desire for Alexander was so thoroughly ingrained in me by this point that
just touching his hair was enough to kick start the gentle pulse, the latent,
secret heat.  I thought about taking his laptop and setting it aside, unzipping
his jeans, climbing onto him and straddling his hips.  Working him.  Taking his
growing, hardening length into my hands.  My mouth.  Insisting that he give me
everything.  But I was irked by the way his eyes kept glancing at the screen. 
And his dismissive tone bothered me.  Maybe I’d already started working,
several weeks ago.  Maybe this was all he intended for me to do: to
service his whims when he was in the mood.  I knew enough about his body
language to read his disengagement.  I grabbed one of his shirts that had been
flung over a chair.  A white button-down made of thick, expensive cotton.  I
wrapped it around myself and it hung to the tops of my thighs.  “Can I take
some notes for you, boss ?  You’ve only put half of my skills to good use
so far.”
    He
looked up at me, and his annoyance gave way to a light, exhaled chuckle.  “Come
on, Lila.  Don’t get all petulant