Free BILLIONAIRE (Part 7) by Juliette Jones Page A

wanted Alexander so much my heart actually ached.  But I wasn’t about to be
locked up like some animal at the zoo, to be admired and played with, exotic
and useless.  My anger and indignation, though, had been damaged by a murky,
creeping despair.  As my buzz took on a harsh, darkening edge, reality had
started to close in.  I had nowhere to go, save one gilded cage.  Sure, I could
sleep on Eva’s floor, pick up where I’d left off three or whatever weeks ago. 
But it wouldn’t be the same.  I wasn’t the same.  I’d had a long,
lingering taste of perfection and now nothing could or would ever compare to
that.  The realization that I was not only changed by him but ruined for anything
less made me feel a renewed, rising sense of anger for Alexander.  Damn him for
presenting me with the best of the best, for infiltrating me with all his
goddamn glory so that anything in his wake would seem inferior in every
imaginable way.  A brief memory flickered, of other men who’d pursued me, way
back when.  In the hazy mist of my pre-Alexander wasteland of a lovelife.  How
pathetic they all were.  How mousy and mediocre.  How would I navigate those
waters now, knowing he was out there, walking around with his black hair and
his wide shoulders and his brutal, masculine beauty?  Other women would chase
him.  They’d touch him, everywhere.  No, he was mine, mine, mine.  
They’d make hot, sweet love to him.  They’d honor him by taking that glorious,
pleasure-gilded manhood into their bodies.  Pushing deep.  So deep .  I
felt the luscious effects of his echoing presence even now, where I remembered
him.  Damn him.
    “Lila,
what are you doing here?” Jake repeated.  “Does Alexan--”
    “Please
don’t call him,” I interrupted hastily, and that edge of desperation that clung
to my plea got Jake’s full attention.  Not that I didn’t already have it, but this
complicated things.  His eyebrows furrowed with contemplative confusion, and
something more.  Only then did I realize I was grasping onto him.  That my
fingers had curled around his wrist as I begged him.  I’m not ready , I
wanted to say.  I can’t go back.  I want to, so much.  But he crossed a
line.  The line.  I will not be made powerless by his obsessive
domination.  I can’t be caged like that.  I’ll go mad.   Of course Jake
wouldn’t understand.  Of course his loyalties to his brother were much more
entrenched than the requests of a lonely, wanton, still-drunk acquaintance.  I
removed my hand, coiling my fists in my lap, colder than I could ever remember
being.
    Jake
shrugged out of his black leather coat and draped it around my shoulders.  The
warmth of it was indescribable.  It was a gentle gesture, and one I wasn’t expecting. 
I wasn’t afraid of him, but there was an energy to him that kicked up the distinct
feeling that I needed to be careful.  Jake rewrote rules and so did I. 
Tonight, I wasn’t myself.  I was out of control.  He seemed to read this in me
and on some level tune into it, and soothe it.  Like we were on some kind of
fucked-up wildchild wavelength.
    “Tell
me what happened,” he said.  “Tell me what you’re doing here.”
    I
felt grateful, that he didn’t immediately pick up his phone and call Alexander,
that would respect my wishes like that, even though he probably knew as well as
I did that his brother was half-insane with worry and even rage right about
now.  But Jake didn’t move, or do anything at all, except wait for me to answer
his question with a kind of tender, dark-edged, unequivocal patience that was
somehow exactly what I needed at that moment.
    When
I didn’t immediately reply, Jake continued, his voice calm, like he’d talked
people off ledges before and had a knack for it.  “I just saw him, a couple
hours ago.  We had a meeting in his office.  He said you were sleeping.”
    “I
was sleeping.”
    “He
said you look like an angel when you’re