Selling Out to the Billionaire
Page 5
Remembering the heat in his eyes as he looked up and down my body has my hand sliding inside my underwear. Feeling how wet I am at just the thought of him makes me shiver.
What would have happened if he hadn’t stopped when he had me pinned to the window? What if he hadn’t changed his mind. I imagine his hands sliding down my body, far enough to grab the hem of my dress and pull it up.
He would have pulled me against him, fingers exploring the skin of my legs and the fabric of my panties before daring to touch me where I want it most. I dip my fingers inside myself as I imagine him doing the same, and I let out a moan. His lips would be at my neck as he whispered the things he wanted to do with me. His thumb circles my clit and my own fingers follow.
I can still feel the hardness of his cock against my ass and I think about him grinding it against me as he drives me to the edge with his hand. It doesn't take long and I come hard and fast as I imagine Derek thrusting his fingers deep inside me.
My body relaxes as I come down from my orgasm. Even the guilt about my private fantasy can't keep me awake. With weird thoughts about green eyes and beautiful smiles in my head, I fall asleep.
5
The hideous sound of my alarm is almost a relief. I kept dreaming of Derek and his amazing body and his eyes and his hands and what he could do with them. I kept waking up to the sound of his voice, remembering the maddening way he was so sure of himself. Not exactly a bad thing to dream--but I feel more tired now than when I went to bed.
I drag myself into the kitchen and put on the coffee while I wash my face and do my makeup. I need to get to the office early so I can pull the files for the showings. I do my make-up, being extra careful to look polished and professional. Not in any way encouraging Derek to think I'm coming on to him. Yesterday was weird and awful, but today is different. Today, I'm going to impress him with my choices. Today, I'm going to sell my first house.
As I drink my coffee I feel a little better. There's nothing that can erase exhaustion like a good cup of coffee. At least I feel a little closer to normal.
The office is quiet, most people not in yet. My desk was pointed out to me yesterday, and even though I haven't gone through all the office training, I figure it's okay if I use it. I'm glad it's quiet in here though, because it takes me longer than I would like to collect the files for the fifteen houses I have scheduled today. I double check the showing times, and put the files in the order I'll need them before stowing them in my bag. My phone buzzes and I answer it.
"Penelope Swanson."
"Good morning, Miss Swanson," Derek says in my ear.
It's like he ran his fingers through my hair; I shiver. "Mr. Conway."
His voice is warm. "I'm ready to start our tour, if you'll join me outside."
"Of course," I say, "I'll be right there."
I glance at the clock, and I see that he's a few minutes early. After yesterday I was thinking that him arriving on time might be a miracle. I grab my bag and my coffee and head outside. The sight that greets me isn't one that I was expecting. Derek is standing by a large black escalade, holding the door open.
For me.
I freeze in place. "This isn't necessary, Mr. Conway. I can take my own car."
"It is necessary." He scans me in that way of his that makes me feel sexy and exposed. "I think I've already made it clear that I'm not a patient person. One of my many faults. Looking for a 'multi-million-dollar new home' is exhausting enough, I don't want to take the risk of being separated and wasting time."
Ouch, way to throw that back in my face. I resist the urge to grumble under my breath as I climb into the car. He thinks that looking at those houses was exhausting for him? I give the address of the first house to the driver, settling into my seat. "I've followed your instructions, and I've put together a list of houses I think you'll really appreciate," I say as he drops into the seat across from me. "These are some of the best, and I'm sure you'll agree.
"I certainly hope so."
"Can I ask why you're buying a new home?"
For just a moment I think I see a reddening on his skin. But it's only a moment, before he's smiling at me. "Do I need a reason?"
I'm intrigued but I try not to show it. "No, you don't. I was just hoping that the reason you're looking for a change might give me some insight into what you're looking for. Besides floor-to-ceiling windows," I add, pulling out a file.
He takes it from me, even though I hadn't offered it. Flipping through the papers he says, "I donated my current home to a charitable organization, and it's currently in the process of being renovated into a shelter for underprivileged youth."
The surprise registers on my face before I can stop it. Derek Conway is famous for being rich, and he's known for giving money away to good causes, but this seems very personal. It's a huge step to give up the place where you live for something like that. "That's incredibly generous of you."
He laughs a little. "Don't be too impressed. I wasn't exactly sober when I promised to do it. Kind of surprising news to get in the morning. I don't regret it, though."
It was a chore not to look at him with new appreciation. I'd been trying to remind myself he was a jerk, but jerks don't donate entire houses. "Most people wouldn't do something so selfless while blackout drunk. I still say it's impressive," I whisper.
He clears his throat, facing the window and hiding all the emotion from his expression. "Give Andre the next address."
"I'm sorry?"
He hands the file back to me. "I don't want this one, it's far too palatial for my taste. I don't like houses that are overly extravagant. Give him the next address."
I do, fighting the blush of shame I feel creeping up from my stomach, and repressing the urge to tell him that all these houses are overly extravagant. I also thank whatever energy bender I was on last night that one of the more modern mansions is next on the list. I try to keep my voice even. "So you're looking for something more modern in style. I managed to glean that from our conversation yesterday, so most of what we'll be seeing today falls into that category."
Derek nods.
Okay then. I don't give him the next file, instead pulling out my phone and text Anna, thankful that he’s sitting opposite of me so he can't peek.
We were getting on great for about five minutes before he flipped back into asshole mode. This is going to be a long day.
I glance up at Derek while I'm waiting for her response. He's watching me, his eyes dark as sin. My phone buzzes in my hand.
Don't let him get to you. You're going to be great. Sell him the house of his dreams!!!
I send back an anxious emoji before switching to the Sunset Realty login. I cancel the first showing. I thought that he might skip some of the houses, so I gave each showing a larger window. But if he skips each one without looking we might have some scheduling problems. I slip my phone back into my bag.
Now that he's derailed the conversation—and my plan for the day—I'm not sure what to do here. Do I attempt small talk? More questions about his preferences? I suppose that can't hurt.
"Besides the windows that feed your imagination, can you tell me what's most important to you in a house?" I ask.
"I'll know it when I see it."
I bite the inside of my lip to keep myself from making a face and give him my best smile. "That's good, but if you share something you like it will be easier for me to make sure you get that."
He sighs, looking out the window. The morning sun falls across his face as we make a turn and my breath catches. He really is gorgeous, and if I could have captured that moment with a camera, I would have. I think he's going to ignore me, but after a long silence, he speaks.
"I need a place that's large. Because of my various business endeavors, I have a lot of staff. I want the place to be big enough to not feel crowded, and where I can go find some private space if I need it. I like it to be comfortable, but I don't like it to feel cluttered or claustrophobic. I like natural light. And windows." He adds that last one wit
h a touch of a private smile.