Thrill me, p.1
Thrill Me, page 1
part #3 of Billionaire's Secrets Series
Thrill Me
The Billionaire’s Secrets
Book 3
Kayla C. Oliver
Let’s get to know each other…
WARNING:
This book contains sexually explicit content and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults only. Please ensure this book is stored in a location that cannot be accessed by underage readers.
Copyright © 2017 by Kayla C. Oliver
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Signing Him (Bonus book)
Virgin’s Desire (Bonus book)
Touch Me (The Billionaire’s Secrets Book 1 – Bonus)
Kiss Me (The Billionaire’s Secrets Book 2 – Preview)
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Contact Page
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She had the opportunity of a lifetime right at her fingertips, but the passion she found in his arms could destroy it all.
Happy reading!
Kayla C. Oliver
Chapter One
Etta
I woke up to the sound of the radio playing on full blast and the heady scent of bacon being deep-fried. I blinked my eyes open and stared at the ceiling, trying to prepare myself to finally sit up in bed—which wasn’t really a bed, but more a pull-out couch. The bathroom door being banged shut was the last straw. I sat up with a jerk and noticed the room filled with bacon smoke now.
“Carl, you really should open one of the windows,” I said to my roommate, who was at the kitchen counter in nothing but a scraggly robe. I’d been living with him and my other roommates, Joanna and Shawn, for the past eight months, and I was tired of how none of them ever opened any windows to let some fresh air in.
“It’s freakin’ cold outside, man,” Carl yelled over the noise of the radio and did a little jig as he flipped the bacon strips.
As if sleeping on the couch in the living-room-cum-kitchen of the apartment wasn’t bad enough, I got a headache from waking up to the smell of cooking on a daily basis.
I threw the covers off me and sat up on the couch, just as Shawn rushed into the room. Shawn and Joanna were a couple and shared the double bedroom, while Carl had the single. Since I was the last person to rent the apartment, I got the couch.
Eight months ago, when I had to leave my previous apartment because I discovered that my roommate was growing weed in his room, I was just glad that I had finally found a place to stay. Being a native New Yorker, I knew a good deal when I saw one. At the time it sounded perfect, a place to sleep on a couch paying rent that I could afford. Now, I was growing tired of the lack of privacy, but I still couldn’t afford a better place. Where in New York was I going to find a better deal?
Shawn threw open the refrigerator door and pulled out a carton of milk. I eyed him from where I was sitting on the couch and noticed that it was the milk carton I had bought the previous day. Shawn uncapped it and chugged it down with his lips at the mouth of the carton.
I opened my mouth to say something, to scream at him, but I decided against it. What was the point? I had a feeling that Shawn spat in my food in the refrigerator every time we had an argument. Yeah, we didn’t really get along.
I sucked in my gut and stood up from the couch and proceeded to the small kitchen island to make myself some coffee.
“Mmm—it smells good, man,” Shawn said to Carl and took another swig of the milk. My mouth soured at the thought while Carl handed his friend a piece of bacon.
Perhaps the problem was that these guys all knew each other—they’d been friends since college or something like that—whereas I was the one who was the outsider.
I kept my back turned to them as I made my coffee, listening to their inane jokes and jabs. Perhaps the problem also was that they were younger than me, still in their early twenties and with big dreams of making it in New York. They all worked several part-time jobs as waiters and baristas and shop assistants etc. but I’d overheard them discussing how they had big plans of landing fancy jobs. They weren’t locals and had no idea what it really took to break New York.
Whereas I, all of twenty-seven, had a pretty good idea of what their lives in the city were going to look like. I’d weathered the storm, I knew the struggles, and I felt like I was much wiser and older than all of them. I didn’t envy their enthusiasm.
“You’re going to be at the apartment all day again, Etta?” Carl asked me as he served himself his breakfast on a plate.
“Think so,” I replied, pouring myself a mug of freshly brewed coffee.
“Do you think you’re depressed?” Shawn asked, taking another chug of my milk. He had an evil glimmer in his eyes as he spoke, and his gaze traveled down to my shorts and oversized old T-shirt. I clenched my jaws at him, on my tether of snapping.
“No, Shawn, I’m not depressed. I’m trying to get my business off the ground,” I said to him and took in a deep breath. I had a few other choice words for him, but I kept them to myself.
“How long have you been trying to start this business of yours?” Carl asked as he leaned against the cupboards and ate his breakfast.
“It’s not that easy. I’m a one-man show, and all I have is a website and not enough money for marketing, so acquiring clients isn’t an easy job. Anyway, I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to you,” I said, recognizing the snarl in my voice.
Carl raised his brows and exchanged a sniggering look with Shawn.
“Hey, I’m just asking—you know, making friendly conversation,” he said, and I took a sip of my coffee, which sort of burnt my tongue but I gulped it down anyway.
I knew he wasn’t just asking; they were snooping. I’d overheard them discussing amongst themselves how they were constantly afraid that I wouldn’t make rent. They’d used words such as “lazy” and “going nowhere” regarding me, so I knew exactly what they said about me behind my back.
“Yeah, you’re very sensitive about your work, Etta—maybe you should think about getting a job, you know, put yourself out there a little,” Shawn added, and I threw him a look of warning. I could have explained to him that I’d had jobs since I was sixteen and I knew exactly what hard work and ambition meant, but I didn’t want to waste my time. Besides, I could see the notification light on my cell phone blinking on the coffee table and I rushed toward it.
***
It was an email from a woman in Brunswick, Georgia, who was planning a wedding, and I reread the email several times with rapt attention. I’d been waiting for an email like this for months, since the time I’d decided to take the plunge and start my own business.
The radio was still blasting in the background, and Carl and Shawn were having a conversation in loud voices over it. However, I was sitting on my couch with my coffee mug forgotten, going over every word that was written in the email.
The woman had heard about my wedding planning services through a friend of a friend who I had planned a wedding for several months ago. She had some great ideas for the wedding, and she’d had a look at my website and was impressed by my portfolio.
Before this, I hadn’t considered planning a wedding outside of New York, and I had never been to Georgia before. In my head, I tried to think of how I was going to organize caterers and decorators and other staff to help, and it all seemed like it was going to be possible. As much as I knew of Brunswick, it was popular with tourists and was a bustling vibrant city, so it wouldn’t be a problem to hire staff to help.
I read the email again. The woman wanted me to meet her in Brunswick in the next two days, and from the tone of her writing, it seemed like she had already made up her mind that she was going to hire me. The amount of money she quoted in her email was double what I would have charged, and I couldn’t control the smile that was spreading on my face. This was it. This could be my big break!
I stood up from the couch and stared at my roommates with a wide smile on my face. Joanna had made an appearance in the kitchen too by now, while I was reading my email, and she stared back at me like I was a crazy person.
“You okay there, Etta?” she said, and I bit down on my lip as I walked toward them.
“Yes, more than okay. I have a new cli
“Georgia? For how long?” Carl asked, and I shrugged.
“Not sure, a couple of weeks,” I told him, and he looked at Shawn again.
“Well, if you’re going to be gone for a couple of weeks, we’d expect you to give us the rent in advance,” Shawn stated and folded his arms over his chest.
“Why? I’ll transfer the money into your account at the end of the month as usual. I don’t see what the problem is,” I snapped, and Joanna seemed to take in a deep breath in support of her boyfriend.
“Look, Etta, you could be busy up there, and since you don’t know when you’ll be back, it’ll be more convenient for us if you pay us four weeks’ rent in advance so that we’re not short later,” she explained, and I shook my head. This was a ridiculous suggestion, since rent wasn’t due for another thirty days and I had just paid rent.
“No, I don’t believe that’ll be convenient, and most definitely not for me. I don’t understand what you are afraid of happening. All my stuff is going to be here—it’s not like I’ll just disappear. And I have never missed once in the past eight months that I’ve been living here,” I countered, but the three of them were exchanging looks again.
Carl shook his head.
“Etta, we can’t just wait around for you to show up and give us the money. We’re all struggling here,” he said, and I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed.
“So, every time you go for a vacation, or one of you disappears for a romantic weekend getaway, do you prepay rent before you go? Just in case you don’t return?” I snapped, and Carl smiled menacingly.
“You need to calm down, Etta darling. We’re just letting you know what we want, and if you don’t have the money to give it to us now, then you can just leave. This couch will be lapped up by someone in half a day,” Carl said, and I nodded. They had finally reared their ugly heads, and I could see them for who they were. They wanted me out.
“Fine, I’ll leave,” I said, and my own words surprised me. The three of them looked shocked too, like they hadn’t actually expected me to say that. New York was full of bad roommates; finding a quiet clean roommate like me was a blessing, and they knew it.
“Well, now, Etta, you don’t need to make any rash decisions here,” Joanna spoke up, and I whipped around from them and walked over to the couch beside which all my stuff was already packed in suitcases. I’d never really gotten around to unpacking, especially since there was nowhere to actually put my stuff.
“It’s not a rash decision. Don’t worry, Joanna, I’m sure you’ll find someone to take my place in half a day,” I said and started folding up my covers.
She strode toward me with her hands on her hips and glared.
“Okay, how about you pay half the rent now and the other half when you get back? That’s a fair deal, don’t you think?” she said, and I looked at her with a wide smile on my face. I had a job, I had a client. I wasn’t a complete failure.
“There’s no deal. I’m leaving today, and you guys can all go stuff yourselves,” I said.
Chapter Two
Owen
It could have been morning, or it could have been evening; in fact it could have been any time of the day. The bedroom I now found myself in, when I blinked my eyes open, was shrouded in an orangeish glow because of the curtains that covered the windows.
I had no memory of stumbling in here the previous night, and just like every other night of my life, I was certain that if I turned around I would find a woman lying there. Someone I barely recognized.
I tried to be as quiet as possible as I turned my head and found a perfect hourglass-shaped back facing me. From what I could tell right now, the girl had a head of bright red hair in tight curls. Her skin was pale and smooth and covered in freckles, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember leaving the bar with a redhead the previous night.
She would remember me though, I knew that, they always remembered me. And chances were that when we first met at the bar, she would have recognized me immediately. Owen Rivera seemed to be a name synonymous with having a good night. I hadn’t realized it till late that nearly all the women I kept meeting or was introduced to at the bar already knew me—or rather, knew about me.
They also seemed to have a preconceived notion about me, like I needed to be tamed or something. And each of these women who spent the night with me seemed to have some idea that they were going to be the ones who were finally going to tie me down. It was the same story over and over again, and I should have gotten tired of it by now, but I hadn’t.
It just meant that I never had to spend a night by myself.
The mornings were a different matter altogether though. Every morning that I found myself beside a new girl, I knew I would have to make a smooth exit before she had a chance to wake up. I didn’t do breakfast, and I didn’t cuddle. Those were rules that I stood by, and these girls seemed to not understand.
Not that I ever wanted to hurt any of them on purpose. I always made it very clear to every girl I went back with that I wasn’t looking for anything more than a one-nighter. I liked beautiful women, I enjoyed their company over a drink or several drinks, but that was where I drew the line. And these women all came back with me, after having received full warning that I wasn’t interested in anything serious. But each of them also woke up in the morning with the idea that they were somehow going to be able to change my mind.
I had no interest in being tied down. I knew exactly what they all thought of me. I was a self-made billionaire, and in a small city like Brunswick, I was one of the very few, the others being my best friends, Rhett and Hunter, who were also the co-owners of our business. The three of us were known in Brunswick and Georgia as being some of the youngest billionaires in the country.
And now that Rhett was taken, happily in love, all eyes were on me, especially since Hunter was the kind who didn’t really mess around. I was starkly aware of this fact, and I tried my very best to make it abundantly clear to every woman I met that I wasn’t on the market.
Unlike my friends, who I couldn’t relate with, I hadn’t met a single woman yet who filled me with a desperate urge to date. I couldn’t even remember the last time I asked a girl out on a date; it would have to have been in high school or some bygone era, before I became the man I was now.
With the back of my head throbbing lightly from all the whisky sours I’d downed the previous night, I tried to slip my legs off the bed with minimal movements. Thankfully, the girl was sleeping with her face turned away from me. I threw her one last look, admiring her slender naked body, just as my feet hit the floor.
“Owen?” I heard her soft groggy voice, and I clenched my jaws. She’d woken up.
“Hi there.” I tried to put on my most casual friendly voice as I remained sitting on the edge of the bed with my back still turned to her. My logic was that the less I looked at her or made eye contact, the easier it would be for me to leave without causing a scene.
Usually, it was the same girl who had whispered sweet nothings in my ear the previous night and shuddered when my fingers grazed her nipples, who could turn into a full raging woman carrying a whip and smoke coming out of her ears in the morning—if she believed she had been wronged in some way.
“Where are you going?” I heard her say, and I bent forward to reach for my discarded pants on the floor.
“Umm… home, I guess,” I said as I pulled my pants up and finally stood up.
“But it’s only eight in the morning,” she continued, and now I had no choice but to look at her. I was already bracing myself for an attack. I turned to her as I buckled the belt at my waist.
She was sitting up on the bed now, with her back against a pair of fluffed-up pillows. This girl was exceptionally beautiful, I noticed, and I congratulated myself for my drunken choice the previous night. Her curls were fiery, falling over her shoulders inches above her small pert breasts. She didn’t seem to be shy about the fact that she was naked, and of course she didn’t need to be, given that we had in all probability had sex several times over the course of the night.
