The Billionaire's Unwanted Virgin (3 page)

Lakota shook his head in annoyance.
Where the hell had that thought come from? The mention of Zeb had addled his
brain. That and her unexpected demeanor. He'd had no intention of actually
meeting the woman who'd sold her virginity to the highest bidder, not after
he'd seen her picture. The online picture that had so obviously ensnared his
brother to spend Lakota's money had left him cold. Just another money grabbing
female, who used her body to get what she wanted.
 
Even after Percy had run a thorough back
ground check on Miss Alice Wanderlund with surprising results, according to his
man, he'd refused to read the thick file Percy had passed him.

"Just deal with it. Pay her off
and make sure she won't talk, Percy. I don't need the scandal right now, as you
well know. I have more important things to consider."

"Naturally, Sir, but for now we
should keep to the terms of the bid. I would suggest inviting her to your
county house, so we can form a plan of action, and keep her out of the limelight."

As much as Lakota hated the thought
of such an obvious strumpet invading his privacy, he could see the sense behind
Percy's suggestion.

"Do whatever is necessary. Just
keep her away from me. I've had enough of money-grabbing whores to last me a
lifetime. I just need her not to talk. Up the payment if you need to."

Percy had nodded in understanding.

"I'm not sure paying her off
would necessarily ensure she'd keep quiet. There is only so much I can do, and
it would leave you open to further blackmail. It's a shame you're not marrying
her. Now
that
would ensure I could button her down so tight she couldn't
even breathe without your knowledge, Sir." There had been an odd twinkle
in Percy's eyes when he'd made that outrageous statement. "And you do need
to marry, so this would be killing two birds with one stone."

"I'm not that desperate that I
would pay a whore to marry me, Percy."

"Well, strictly speaking this one
is a virgin, so—"
                                            

Lakota had cut the other man's
fanciful notions off with an impatient shake of his hand. Percy had taken the
hint and made a hasty retreat.

Lakota scowled at the woman trying to
get past him now.

"Don't be ridiculous. You are
not leaving."

She visibly startled and took several
steps backward until the low wall of the fountain stopped her. She stumbled,
and Lakota's reflexes kicked in. He grabbed her ‘round the waist before she
could end up
in
the fountain. Her soft curves collided with his body,
and her sweet, slightly flowery scent filled his nostrils. She smelled of
lemon, and a faint trace of what had to be toothpaste, as her breath whooshed
out of her lungs. None of the cloying perfumes and artful make-up tricks he was
used to from the women in his acquaintance were in residence here. With her
breasts squashed against his chest, and her little hands curled around his
biceps, he was far too aware that she
was
all woman, however, under that
ridiculous cover up she'd chosen to wear. The slight tremble that went through
her raised his protective instincts, and when she wriggled against him in a
seeming effort to free herself, he hardened against his will.

He swore under his breath. She went
as still as a statue when she noticed his state of arousal, and he released her
with some reluctance. It had been a while since he'd engaged in the pleasures
of the flesh, and Lakota admitted to himself that he found her far too
attractive.

He'd been watching from his office
when she'd exited the limo, her green eyes wide and searching as she took in
her surroundings. She'd looked impossibly young and unsure, and not at all what
he'd been expecting, so when Percy had come to find him with a big grin on his
face, Lakota had to see her close up.

Seeing her completely engrossed in
the childlike act of throwing a coin into his courtyard fountain had taken
another chink out of his armor, and he didn’t like that one little bit.

 
This close to her, he could see that her face
was completely bare of any make-up, apart from a touch of lip gloss and
mascara. Her blonde locks, pulled back into a messy pony tail, threatened to
escape their bondage completely, and his fingers itched to touch the silky
strands. An image of her on top of him, naked with her blonde tresses covering
them both swam into his mind, and he pushed her away with more force than was
strictly necessary.

"I don't understand. Of course
I'm leaving, and I don't want to put you out. I'm sorry to be intruding on your
grief at such a time." She wrapped her arms around herself again as she
spoke, and her little teeth worried her bottom lip leaving indents in their
wake.

Lakota crunched his jaw together and
forced himself to breathe evenly. The simple act was incredibly erotic.

"You're not intruding on anything,
and you're not leaving. And if you were, my driver would be taking you home.
I'm not a complete ogre." He growled the words, and her expressive eyes
widened to such a degree they looked huge in her pale face.

"But why am I here? The bid was
with your brother, and if … I mean under the circumstances … I …" Her
words faltered, and heat crept into her cheeks.

Now there was a thing he hadn't seen
in a while. An honest to goodness blush on a woman. He didn't know women still
did that, not unless they wanted something, but little Alice in front of him
couldn't even look at him. Every pore of her being quivered in embarrassment
and confusion, and Lakota's instincts were screaming at him that on this
occasion at least, this woman—this contradiction in terms—seemed genuine. How
he knew that he couldn't even begin to explain to himself, and that thought
made him angry.

She had to have an agenda; they all
did. It was just his dick talking, that's all. Lust clouded a man's brain, and
this woman ticked all the right boxes to have his long forgotten libido sit up
and scream at him to take what was his. And she was his. He'd bought her after
all.

"That's where you're mistaken,
little Alice." He smiled at the way her blush deepened and her breathing
hitched. Not in embarrassment this time, but temper. Sure enough she stamped
her foot and glared at him.

"Will you stop calling me that? I
am
not
little, and I have not followed some rabbit down a hole to get
here."

Lakota laughed, and she grumbled under
her breath. He'd just bet she'd sound like that in the throes of passion. He
shifted his weight to ease the discomfort in his groin, and that blush of hers
deepened to a bright scarlet when her gaze darted briefly to his crotch, before
she wrenched her eyes upwards and pointedly stared at a spot over his left
shoulder.

"Not a rabbit, no, just the
proverbial carrot," he said. "Tell me, what is the minimum amount
you'd have sold your virtue for? That is, if indeed you're still as intact as
you claim to be."

She gasped and balled her hands into
fists.

"How dare you? I had those
humiliating tests to prove that I am, and you know full well what my reserve
was. And I couldn't sell anything, if there weren't perverts like your brother
in this world willing to pay for it." As though she realized what she'd
said she clamped a hand over her mouth in horror, and Lakota smiled in grim
amusement.

"Lucky for you, he was, otherwise
you wouldn't be cashing in now, would you? At my expense I might add. It's my
money that paid for that winning bid, and thus it's me who owns you, little
Alice. And before you ask, I have no fucking clue what your reserve was, as
it's not me who wanted to deflower you. I prefer my women experienced in bed,
not a whimpering virgin who'll likely pass out when she sees my cock."

He was all too aware that he was
overstepping the line, his words intended to wound, but something about the way
she protested her innocence, as though she'd been wronged in this somehow,
grated on his nerves. He wasn't a cruel man per se, though his business
adversaries might disagree with that statement, but little Alice here made him wish
for things that he had no business wishing for.

He wanted to believe in her innocence,
and at the same time it was an unwanted complication he didn't need, even if it
played right into his hands.

All the previous flush of heat drained
away and left her naturally pale skin so white, for a moment he wondered
whether she was going to pass out. Instead she straightened her shoulders again
in that unconscious way he'd observed her doing so several times now, and took
a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was the
image of restrained dignity.

"I am going to pretend you didn't
just say that to me, Mr. …?" She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to
fill her in on his name.

"Just call me Lance," he
said.

"Lance? I'd have expected a more
unusual name." She glanced toward the edges of his tattoo just visible
above the sleeve of his shirt. "What is your tribal name? You do have one,
haven't you?"

He was so flummoxed by her directness
that he replied without thinking, "Lakota."

She nodded and smiled. A tight,
reserved, incredibly polite smile, that made him feel lacking somehow.

"Sioux?" she asked.

At his nod, she murmured,
"figures," under her breath before continuing. "So, Lakota, as I
was saying, I am going to pretend you didn't just say all that to me." She
glared at him again and stabbed her index finger into his chest repeatedly.

"You may be rich, you may be
grieving, and I
am
sorry for your loss, but I did not come here to be
insulted. I came here for a business transaction, that's all. So, if you are
indeed now my
owner
as you so succinctly put it, then let's get this
over with.
 
Claim what's yours, give me
what I've earned, and we never have to see each other again. Problem
solved."

The words were brave, but there was a
slight wobble to her voice, and she bit that plump bottom lip again in a way
that had his softening body tighten in need. Damn it, he wanted her, but on his
terms and for a damn sight longer than the one night stipulated in that damn
bid.

Some of his thought processes must
have shown on his face, because she looked uncertain, if not downright
frightened of him, the longer he just stood there and looked at her.

"Have you quite finished with
your little tirade?"

"I was not—"

"Spare me. I hate to disabuse you
of your little notions, but the problem is far from solved. What guarantee can
you give me that you will not leave here, the minute I've indulged myself in
your delightful wares, and go running to the papers to sell your story? In
fact, how do I know that you're not wearing a wire now under that ridiculous
outfit, and some sleaze
 
reporter is
lapping up this conversation, ready to have it spewed all over the Sunday
papers in the morning? I am a wealthy man. You wouldn't be the first piece of
skirt who tried that. Admittedly your technique is more inventive than others,
but the fact remains. There is no way you will walk out of this house anytime
soon."

She swallowed hard, and he caught her
now slack hand in his and pulled her back to him until their thighs touched. He
cupped her face with his free hand to make her look at him and indulged himself
by dipping his head and brushing his lips across hers. Her outraged gasp
mingled with his exhale, and he smiled at the evidence of her galloping heart
rate visible via the wildly jumping pulse point in her slender neck.

"You can't keep me here against
my will. There are laws against kidnapping, and I would
never
run to the
papers. What sort of woman do you think I am?"

The hurt behind those whispered words
settled in his gut like acid lead, and he searched her face for any malice. He
cursed under his breath when he found none.

"I’ll tell you, shall I? The kind
I am going to marry."

****

Alice stared at him disbelief. She
couldn't have heard him right. He wanted to marry her? Was she caught up in
some terrifying nightmare?
 
That had to
be it. Either that or his overwhelming presence had addled her brains. This
close to him she was acutely aware of every ounce of hard, male flesh she was
plastered against. The secret place between her thighs throbbed in need, and
moisture soaked her sensible cotton knickers.
 
The blood roared in her ears, and if her heart beat any faster it would
surely go into cardiac arrest.

Aware that he was studying her,
waiting for her reaction, she found her voice from somewhere.

"Are you proposing to me?"
She winced at the squeaky quality of her voice, and he laughed and mercifully
let her go. She felt cold and curiously at sea without his big body surrounding
her.

"I am sorry. Shall I go down on
one knee? It might be overkill under the circumstances, but if it makes you
feel better?"

Sure enough, he perched down on one
knee, one hand held to his heart in a mocking re-enactment of a marriage
proposal.