Butt-dialing the Billionaire (Billionaires of Manhattan)

Jada

He’s so evil! And possibly our only hope.

Worst of all, I want him to do the delivery successfully and bring back the slip—not for Lacey, but because I’d have to kiss him. Maybe even in the supply closet.

My blood races with the image of us. He’d set me up on that table because a maestro knows his tools, and maybe he’d even toss his glasses aside. And we’d have another wrong, combustive kiss.

Yes, please!

As if saving Lacey’s job is an afterthought.

As if playing that game again is more important than saving our office family. What is he doing to me?

“Fine. What do I have to lose? Give it a shot.”

“I want my payment in advance.”

“What?”

A lazy smile spreads across his face. “I’m the one setting the terms here. I’ll have my payment now.”

“What if you don’t deliver?”

“Please,” he rumbles. “I have yet to meet a machine that I can’t push beyond the specs.”

My breath hitches as he traces a finger over my cheekbone, over my lips.

“Internal combustion engines enjoy being handled, and even mishandled. Pushed. Maybe even used a bit wrongly, a bit outrageously. I’m Don Juan the Entitled Delivery Driver, baby.”

I grab his wrist and get in his face. “You are the worst!”

“I know.” The rumble of his voice shoots down into my pelvis. He presses his hand to the top of my chest, fingers spanning up my throat. Slowly he pushes me into the wall.

Dimly, I think I want all our kisses to start like this—him pushing me into the wall as my pulse bangs under his wicked fingertips.

He presses his lips to my neck. Kisses me once. Again.

“Could you be more of a jerk?” I gasp.

“Is that a request?” He nips my ear and I nearly explode from the shock of it. “We don’t have enough time for the hate fuck you’ve been dreaming of, but we can make do, don’t you think?” He’s kissing toward my lips, fingers hot on my throat.

I grab his hair, panting shamelessly. I don’t want it to stop.

He slides his hand to my breast, down into my shirt. He strokes a thumb over my nipple, movements sure and strong, and the feeling of it arrows down to my sex.

“I would do repugnant, thoroughly corrupted, power-drunk Lothario things right here, and it would be so good,” he says.

The breeze blows. Electricity skitters over my skin.

“Do them,” I whisper.

With a growl, he presses me harder against the wall, pushing me up against it. His thigh pushes between my legs.

I arch into him. Our kisses turn frantic and ferocious. He’s rock hard against me.

He drags his nails over the silk of my bra, zinging my nipple.

I gasp and hold his hair harder. I’m all-out riding him, nearly humping his thigh now. I don’t even care.

If we were in the supply closet, I’d go for the full hate fuck. As it is, I could so come right now. So wildly, madly come, and I think he could, too.

He slows. He’s coming to his senses.

I blink. I’m coming to my senses.

He pulls away, looking dazed.

I remember Lacey, who I’m supposedly fighting for. “You’ve got a delivery to do,” I say, panting.

“Get me the envelope,” he grates out.

I beeline back to the office to get it.

Jack texts from LaGuardia an hour later.

Jack: it’s on the plane.

Jada: The Ship2Speed plane to LA?

Jack: no, the Fantasy Island plane.

Jada: Srsly

Jack texts a shot of the papers. The timestamp reads 3:59. He made it.

Jada: Thank you so much.

Lacey will be so grateful.

Jack: I’m heading back to the city, but

I doubt I’ll make it by 5. You can look

for the delivery truck in the Holland Tunnel.

Jada: I’ll get the papers to Bert.

As if he’d abandon the truck.

I download the image of the papers to my photos and text it all to Lacey across the office. I’d told people Jack was trying to race the stuff to the airport, but none of us thought he’d make it.

I stand there grinning, waiting for her head to pop up above the sea of cubicles, which it soon does. Her jaw hangs open.

I put up empty hands as if to say, “Dunno how he did it.”

She pumps a fist.

A few more heads pop up. Texts fly around.

“Oh my god, he’s a rock star!” Renata says.

I shrug. What is there to say? Yes, Jack is a rockstar who I’m conducting this whole torrid freak roleplay thing with.

So messed up.

But I never felt so wicked and sexy and beautiful. I can still feel his hands on me and hear his sharp inhale, as if he was as overcome with need as I was.

I tell myself that he probably makes sounds like that with all the women even though I hope it’s not true.

“He must’ve gotten ten speeding tickets,” Dave says. “I’ll find out tonight.”

I frown. “What’s tonight?”

“Shipping crew’s going for beers at Harrigan’s.”

“Oh,” I say. Jack’s going out with the shipping crew? It’s nice he’s going out with the guys. There’s no reason to feel jealous of them.

“You can come,” Dave says.

“Nah. That’s okay.”

Lacey comes over. “We decided to knit Jack a team hat. Glenda’s getting the yarn. Shondrella’s gonna do the star. Can you make one of your poms?”

“Sure,” I say. “But I doubt he’ll wear it.”

“I don’t care. He deserves one,” Lacey says.