Hot Takeover: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 4

  “This is Trevor Watkins,” Killian says, as he stalks across the room, then sits on the edge of the desk, so close that his leg brushes mine.

  Trevor looks up briefly and nods, then returns to his typing.

  “Trevor will be taking over the Love Lace website.”

  I have no clue about websites, so I don’t know why I’ve been called in. But at least it’s not about him firing me. Not yet anyways.

  Trevor adjusts his glasses as he starts a projector, the image coming up on the far wall. He starts into a series of technical terms and explanations that go right over my head.

  I sneak a peek at Killian, trying to figure out why I’m here.

  Nothing.

  Sighing, I turn back to the presentation.

  “So, we’ll be using a new form of…” Trevor’s voice drones on. His pointer seems to linger on the breasts of the models, and his eyes never seem to falter from the screen. It’s clear he’s enjoyed working on this project, and the thought makes me smile. But more than that, it’s seeing my designs on display that fill me with a sense of pride.

  It’s almost overwhelming how much Killian has done in this short period of time.

  Flipping to the next slide, Trevor’s pointer seems to take extra attention to the red, satin bustier the model is wearing.

  Killian leans down and whispers, “Do you think that Trevor’s a breast man?”

  I swallow the laugh that bubbles in my throat, because I was thinking the exact same thing.

  “Aren’t all men?”

  Killian shrugs, and whispers, “I’ve always been more of an ass man myself.”

  My mouth drops open, but I don’t know how to respond. Is he flirting with me? God, I can’t figure this guy out.

  “What do you guys think?” Trevor says with a tremor of excitement. “It’s perfect, right? Once we get the photos of the new line, we’ll be all set to go.”

  “It’s great,” I say honestly, grateful for the interruption. Because I’m still not sure why I’m here, especially if the office rumors are true, and he plans to let me go.

  Killian looks like he’s about to say something to me when the door fly’s open and his new assistant rushes in, clearly panicked about something.

  Trevor goes back to his laptop as Killian talks in a hushed tone to the woman. Instantly she seems to calm down. I can’t help but notice the way he places his hand on her shoulder, or the way she responds.

  It’s a simple gesture. One that probably means nothing. But it still bothers me, even though it shouldn’t.

  I have no claim over the man.

  He’s my boss. Nothing more.

  When the woman leaves, I say quickly, “Is that all?”

  Killian’s brows furrow, and he lets out a deep sigh. “For now.”

  With a curt nod, I leave the room quickly. More confused than ever.

  Chapter 7

  Killian

  Two fucking weeks. That’s how long I’ve gone without touching the woman. I swear I deserve some kind of medal for resisting her.

  I shut down the computer and rub my eyes with my palms. It’s past midnight.

  Hell, I might as well just bring in a cot and sleep here.

  I’ve spent more time in this office than I’ve ever spent in any other in such a short period of time. Mostly because I don’t have any desire to go back to my empty hotel room. Not when all I can think about is Alicia and her sexy little designs.

  There’s a small knock on my door, and my heart starts to race, because I know there’s only one other person in this office who would be working this late.

  “Come in.”

  “Good you’re still here.” She saunters into the room, holding a black and red lace bra and matching panties “What do you think? Do you like them? I think that I’m in love. There for the Valentine’s collection, I have a…”

  She keeps talking, but I barely hear her words, because my cock starts to throb just thinking about what they would look like on her.

  “They’re nice.” I try to keep my tone professional.

  “Nice?” She frowns, and looks down at the garments.

  She looks disappointed by my reaction.

  “They’re sexy.” My voice is rough, full of pent up need. Even I can hear it. I’m irritable, and with good reason. I haven’t been laid in over a month, not since coming here. Not since seeing her. And it’s practically killing me.

  “You think so?” she asks, her smile returning.

  And God, what a smile it is.

  I stand, and take the pieces from her, mulling the soft material over in my fingers, but it only increases the ache in my balls.

  “A masterpiece,” I say honestly. “Just like all the pieces you create.”

  “Better than spandex?” she grins up at me.

  I grunt. “Anything is better than spandex.”

  “True.” She licks her lips and glances at the door. “I guess I should be going home.”

  “Probably a good idea.” I think about offering her a ride, but the last time I did that, things got slightly out of hand.

  With the way my hormones are fucking with my brain right now, one touch and I’m pretty sure I’ll lose that thin line of self-control I’m barely holding onto.

  “It must be hard always having to clean up other people’s messes.”

  I rake my fingers through my hair and shrug. “Sometimes. But I enjoy it.”

  “Really?” Her brows raise.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “You just…I don’t know. You seem like you’ve got a lot of stress.”

  Because of you, sweetheart. Because I want to lay you out on my desk, pull off your panties, and taste what’s beneath. I want those sweet breasts in my mouth as I drive deep inside of you, hard and fast until the only word on your lips is my name.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she says quickly, like she’s afraid she’s offended me. “You’re good at your job. I can’t believe what you’ve done here already.”

  “If it wasn’t for your designs, I wouldn’t have been able to do half of what I’ve done. You have a true talent.”

  Even in the dim light I can see her cheeks turn pink. “I appreciate you giving me a chance. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

  That’s where she’s wrong. I know exactly what it means to her. The woman lights up whenever she talks about her designs. I’ve never met anyone who loves what they do as much as she does. It’s infectious. I just need to channel her energy somehow and get the other designers onboard.

  That’s what I’m been trying to do all week. But no matter how many meetings I have with them to discuss the new vision of the company, I continue to be met with blank stares. I’m starting to think that it would be easier to just fire the lot of them.

  “Want a drink?” I ask, as I cross the room to the bar.

  She hesitates, then says, “Sure. Why not?”

  I can think of a million reasons why not, but I keep them to myself. Part of me doesn’t want her to leave. Even if I can’t touch her, it’s just nice to have her company.

  “Thanks,” she takes the scotch I offer and makes a face when she smells it, but like a champ she takes a good long swallow. “God, that’s awful.”

  I chuckle, then drain my glass. “It’s an acquired taste. Like spandex.”

  She laughs, a sound that goes straight to my balls.

  “You really have worked a miracle here.” Her expression is suddenly serious. “Even I didn’t think it was possible to save Love Lace after the way Cynthia left it.”

  “I’ve worked for a lot of companies.” More than I can count. “Sometimes I feel that if they have the money to hire me then they can take the time to sort the problems out themselves. But most don’t want to do that. They tend to keep an eye on the figures and don’t think about the bigger picture.”

  “They worry more about their paychecks than the product they’re producing,” she says, understanding. “And you, what do you care about?
It can’t just be about the money. Not when you put so much of yourself into it.”

  We lock eyes.

  I can’t control the thing that passes between us.

  It’s more than just physical. It’s like she can get into my fucking head and see me – really see me.

  And that’s scary as hell.

  Her phone rings and she jumps a little.

  “I should take this.”

  I nod and watch her walk out of the room, wondering who’s calling her at this time of the night. I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Not with the crazy hours that she works.

  Scrubbing my hands over my face, I think about the time I have left here. It isn’t much. In fact, I could easily hand over the reins to a new manager tomorrow.

  I knew that this day was coming, I just thought it would take longer. I didn’t expect her to work so quickly. With the set that she just gave me and the Charlotte range she did previously, the company will be turning around in no time.

  Which means my job here is practically done.

  Usually that would fill me with a sense of pride and accomplishment, but this time I just feel empty.

  Maybe I need a vacation. Take some time off. Get my head sorted out.

  I pour myself another drink.

  None of this would have worked without her.

  I know there are a few staff members that are jealous of the attention I’ve given her designs. I’ve watched the way they treat her, heard the fucking rumors. It makes me furious. It also pisses me off that she doesn’t realize how good she actually is. Sometimes I wonder if she isn’t expecting me to fire her at any moment.

  My final job here is to make sure that changes. I’ve talked with the assholes who hired me, and I’ve finally convinced them to rework her contract. Not only will she be senior designer, but she’ll also be getting a huge salary increase, as well as a bonus for all the long hours she’s put in over the past few weeks.

  “Sorry,” she says when she comes back into my office, the smile she had a few moments ago replaced by a frown.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugs dismissively, then nods at the bottle in my hand. “I’ll take another drink if you’re offering.”

  Something’s off. I can see it in her eyes.

  I pour her another Scotch and hand it to her.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “What?” Her fingers are shaking when she takes a sip.

  “Whatever that call was about.”

  She exhales heavily and shakes her head. “Just ex-boyfriend stuff.”

  A knot of jealousy forms in my throat. It doesn’t even matter that the man calling was her ex. I hate the thought of anyone else touching her.

  She’s mine.

  Wrong, asshole. You have no claim over her.

  At least not yet.

  Fuck, I’ve only just kissed the woman, but I know I’m in deeper than I ever thought possible.

  She finishes her drink, then sets the glass on my desk.

  “I should go.” There’s a question in the statement. Like she’s asking me if I want her to stay.

  I do. So goddamn much it hurts.

  When I don’t respond, she turns and starts to leave.

  “Alicia.”

  She glances over her shoulder, brows drawn down, bottom lip trembling and practically begging to be kissed. “Yes?”

  Fuck my self-control and what’s right. I need this. Need her. And from the look in her eyes, she needs it too.

  I cross the distance between us in three long strides, then wrap one arm around her waist, my other hand tangling in her hair before I crash my lips down on hers.

  My God, but I almost forgot how good she tastes.

  A small moan vibrates from her lips, the noise going straight to my cock. Damn, but the woman does things to me. I can almost smell her arousal, it’s so thick between us.

  When I pull back slightly, she blinks up at me, gray eyes wanting, needing, and so fucking vulnerable. “Killian? I can’t–”

  I stop her protest with another kiss, because whatever reasons we’ve both made up for not doing this before, don’t matter right now.

  I lower my mouth to her neck, tasting her skin, running my tongue over her collarbone, and further down towards her breasts as I unbutton her blouse, exposing the lacy bra she’s wearing. I recognize it as one of her pieces she designed.

  “Gorgeous,” I groan, pulling the fabric down and taking the nipple between my lips, teasing it with my tongue.

  “Killian.” I hear the mixed emotions in her voice. Fear mixed with want.

  “I’ve wanted this for so long. Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?” My hand slips under her skirt, pushing it up so that she’s exposed to me.

  I’m going to devour every inch of her body. Consume her, and torment her until she surrenders fully, and admits she’s mine.

  I nudge her legs apart, and she arches towards me as my fingers brush across the silky material of her panties.

  Need whips through me like a fucking tsunami. My balls ache and my cock is like steel, begging for release.

  Nothing exists but her. This moment. Making her mine.

  Careful not to rip the material, I hook my fingers in her panties, and slowly drag them down her thighs.

  Her hands are in my hair, and her eyes are half-lidded, slightly glazed when she looks down at me.

  When I rake my teeth over her clit she jerks in response. I slide my tongue inside her and fuck her with short, rapid strokes, tasting her arousal.

  She moans and her hands tighten in my hair, pulling me close as I work her clit with my thumb.

  The sounds she’s making are driving me insane.

  “Killian.” My name is a whimper on her lips, sending a thrill down my spine and making my cock jerk in response.

  She goes over the edge with a cry of pure pleasure, and I nearly come with her.

  My self-control is crumbling.

  If I don’t have her soon, I’m going to fucking explode. But when I do, I want to be balls deep inside her sweet pussy.

  Chapter 8

  Alicia

  Even if I wanted to, I can’t resist his touch. All I can do is accept the pleasure he’s giving me. Enjoy every frenzied, hot, incredible sensation.

  “Don’t stop,” I beg, as he starts to stand, his palm still cupping my pussy, thumb slowly and expertly stroking my clit.

  “Not a chance in hell, darling.” He starts working his belt, and I help him, now almost desperate to have him inside of me.

  His cock springs free as I roll his pants and briefs down and over his muscular thighs.

  He’s big and thick, and clearly just as needy for me as I am for him. When he produces a foiled wrapper, I take it from him, then slowly slide the condom down the length of his cock.

  I want to taste him too, but it’s clear he has other plans right now.

  His lips are on mine, and he growls into my mouth, “Say yes, Alicia. Say you want me.”

  “I want you,” I whisper against his lips.

  And I do.

  I need this.

  His touch.

  His kiss.

  All of him.

  My heart is racing, my breath coming hard and fast. My body aches for him in ways I never thought possible.

  “Please,” I moan.

  His lips twist up in a sexy grin, and then I’m being lifted, carried to the couch before laying me down gently. He positions himself above so that his cock is nudged against my pussy, and I wiggle beneath him desperately.

  His fingers grip my hips, holding me steady, and I watch as the swollen head of his cock eases into me, and let out a small moan.

  He’s big and thick, and a small cry tears from my throat as I take more of him.

  I close my eyes at the pleasure, but he growls, low and deep, “Eyes on me, darling.”

  Meeting his intense gaze, I feel the connection, the one I’ve been trying to deny.

  Then, i
n one hard stroke, he buries himself deep inside of me.

  I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders, and his mouth is on mine, teasing, taking, exploring as he begins to move.

  I’m all but helpless against the pleasure that tears through me.

  His hands are on me, cupping my breasts, teasing my clit, stroking every inch of my body like he can’t get enough.

  He begins to move fast and steady. I swear I feel each thrust at the very core of my being.

  Waves of sensation gather and build, until I’m completely lost in the pleasure that threatens to consume me.

  Hunger.

  Desire.

  Lust.

  Whatever it is that drives me, I know that in this moment, the only thing that exists is him and me.

  “Killian,” I cry out.

  His kiss becomes more urgent, and I return it. Our tongues clash and roll. And I’m all but consumed by him.

  Fire lashes through me, whipping over my sensitive flesh, and I feel like my entire body is going to explode with the pure pleasure of it.

  I tighten my legs around his thrusting hips, trying to catch every sensation that tears through me.

  Exploding around him, I cry out, and he thrusts hard, deep, one more time, before his body stiffens and I feel his own release explode within me.

  “My God,” he rasps against my lips.

  My thoughts exactly. “That was…incredible.”

  “Yeah.” He kisses me hard, before pulling away and gathering his clothes. “It was.”

  We dress in silence, both lost in our own thoughts.

  I don’t know what this means, or where it leaves us, and I’m suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity.

  “Don’t do that,” he says, capturing my chin between his thumb and fingers and forcing me to look at him.

  “What?”

  “Overthink this.” He presses his lips against mine in a rough kiss.

  The problem is, overthinking is my nature. But I also don’t want to ruin this moment.

  “I should go home and get some sleep. I have to be here at six.”