Page 136 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Abby

"You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?

" He peers down into my eyes. His own mis-matched ones are lit from within, so it seems like they’re glowing.

They make him resemble a predatory beast. A panther.

A large, sleek cat with muscles that undulate under his skin, under the weight of my palms pushed into his back as he planks over me.

The slippery crown of his cock teases my opening. It’s big and blunt, and a knot of heat forms in my belly. He pushes his thighs between mine, forcing me to open further. His breath raises the hair on my forehead. The heat from his big body pushes down on me, pins me in place.

Sweat beads my forehead as I try not to writhe.

His jaw tightens, and a pulse throbs at his temple.

His biceps flex from holding up the weight of his entire body as he maintains his position.

Right there—at the center of my core, at the pinnacle of where he could thrust inside me and impale me with one smooth move and put me out of this yearning that curls in on itself and grows and grows until it fills my cells, my blood, and weighs me down until I sink into the bed, held immobile by the lust in his gorgeous gaze.

"Cade, please," I groan.

His lips curl. "What do you want, baby?"

"You know what."

His grin widens. "Say it. I want you to tell me what you want from me."

"And if I don’t?"

He begins to pull back, and I scissor my legs about his waist. "Don’t you dare, you twatarse."

He laughs. Asshole laughs at me.

"Shut up and fuck me, you bastard."

His gray-blue eyes grow dark. "I’m not, but I might as well be, considering my parents almost disowned me. And it’s because of what you did."

I draw in a sharp breath. It feels like a truck crashed into my chest. Pressure builds behind my eyes.

He’s right, I’m responsible for turning his life upside down.

I’m the one who caused him to almost destroy himself.

I’m the one...who should pay. I blink away my tears, then tip up my chin and meet his gaze.

"Punish me then. Take me. Use me. Split me in half with your beautiful cock, but don’t hold your grudge against me, Cade. Please." I swallow. "Please, please, please, Cade."

The smile disappears from his face, replaced by a mean calculating look. "You sure about that?"

I scowl. "Told you already, didn’t I? Fuck me, you mean, sadistic, prick, you—" I gasp as he pistons his hips forward and breaches me. His fat shaft is in me and spreading me, and it’s like trying to force a watermelon through a keyhole.

“It hurts, it hurts.” I try to writhe away, but he lowers his weight, pinning me in place.

"Open up and let me in, Sparrow."

"Open up and let me in, Abby."

My eyelids snap open. My chest rises and falls.

I glance about the room, take in the familiar shape of the dresser pushed up against one wall, the closet in the far corner, the chair on the other side and…

my fingers inside my pussy. I pull them out, bring them to my mouth and suck on them.

My stomach clenches. Jesus, I was dreaming of Cade fucking me.

And I was trying to make myself come. How pathetic is that?

How pathetic and how arousing. And I could have sworn I heard his voice, and—

"Open up, I know you’re in there." Cade’s voice reaches me, followed by banging on the front door.

Shit. So, it was his voice I heard. I shove the covers off and swing my legs over the bed.

I glance around for something to pull over my sleep-shorts and camisole when he yells again, "Open the fuck up, Abby!

" His voice is angry, and when he pounds on the door this time, I hear the wood creak. Oh hell, he’s going to break it down.

"I’m coming." I rush out of the bedroom toward the front door and fling it open. "What the hell is wrong with—" I blink at the man who’s leaning against the door frame. His hair is tousled, and there’s a day’s growth of whiskers on his jaw.

Also, he’s wearing the same clothes he dropped me off in this morning.

He looks rumpled and sexy. So sexy. Spruced up in a suit, Cade is hot.

But a Cade wearing a creased sweatshirt and an untidy look is so erotic, it’s unbearable.

He takes a step forward, and the whiff of alcohol stings my nostrils.

"You’re drunk?" I blink.

So that’s why he didn’t use the key to my apartment. He moves in closer, then promptly loses his balance and keels over.

"Cade!" I grab at his waist. At the same time, his heavy hands descend on my hips. He leans his weight on me, and both of us stagger. The smell of alcohol weaves around me, and my eyes sting. "You’re stinking drunk." I frown up at him.

"It’s your fault," he growls. Even high on alcohol, his voice is hard and mean, and my pussy dampens.

Oh, god, is there nothing about this man that I find unappealing?

I wrap my arm about him and manage to maneuver us inside the flat.

He winds his big arm about my shoulder, and I almost collapse again. "You’re heavy," I pant.

"You’re tiny," he growls.

I scoff, “You’re deluded, if you think that.”

“And you’re so fucking perfect, I want to throw you down and fuck you so hard I spoil you for anyone else.”

The intent in his filthy words ricochets down my body and my nipples tighten. We take a step forward, weave to the left, then to the right, before beginning to topple over.

"Cade, we’re going to fall," I cry out.

"No, we’re not." He straightens, seems to find his balance, and I blow out a breath.

"I’ll never let you fall, Abby."

I still, glance up to find him staring down at me with a strange look in his eyes. The kind of look I saw a long, long time ago. Before I helped his teammates bring him down. Before I ruined everything. Before I gave up any hope that he’d forgive me.

His expression softens, and his gaze lowers to my mouth. "Your sweet fucking mouth; it’s going to be my downfall." His voice skitters down my spine, and a shiver engulfs me.

"You’re drunk.”

"Which is why I can tell you how I really feel." He cups my cheek. "You’re killing me, Sparrow. Being near you, knowing I want you, but not allowing myself to have you… It’s fucking breaking my balls."

A warm sensation liquifies my chest, "So...you want me, physically?"

He blinks. "You know I do."

“And...?” I peer into his features. Say it. Say it. Say it, damn it.

"And—” His features seem to soften even more, then he shakes his head. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?” I cry.

He seems taken aback. "What else is there?" He scowls. "What are you trying to—" The wrinkles on his forehead clear. "Ah, I see. You think I have feelings for you."

I try to pull away, but he doesn’t release me.

"Is that what this is about?” His eyes gleam. “You feel something for me?"

I search his features. There’s a funny note in his voice, something I can’t quite place.

"Is that what this is about, Abby? You have feelings for me, and you think I should reciprocate them?"

I look away, but he grips my chin and turns it, so I don’t have a choice but to meet his gaze. "Is that it, Abby?"

I swallow, wanting to tell him no. That it’s not about that. That I haven’t harbored feelings for him since high school. That, of course, this isn’t about me hoping for a romantic relationship with him, after all this time. But when I open my mouth, what comes out is—"Yes."

"I didn’t hear you."

"Yes." I tip up my chin. "Yes, I have feelings for you. I—” I swallow. Don’t say it. Don’t. “I’m in love with you.”

He blinks, then throws his head back and laughs. He laughs so hard, his entire body shakes. He releases his hold on me and staggers back. "You think I’m going to reciprocate your emo-shit? That I’m going to fall in love with you?" he manages to choke out between his guffaws.

Heat suffuses my face. My heart feels like it’s going to burst through my ribcage. "Why is that funny?" I burst out.

He stops laughing, then glares at me. "Because there can never be anything between us."

I lock my fingers together. "There’s already something between us."

"Sure, I’m physically attracted to you, but that means nothing. You’re a hole— a very convenient hole—I occasionally like to toy with. You’re nothing more to me."

I tip up my chin. "So why are you here? Why is it that when you get so drunk you can barely see straight, you come here, huh? Why not go to any one of your various women that you like to be photographed with?"

He pauses for long enough that I think he might actually admit he cares for me.

Then, he looks me up and down and says, "I have to keep up appearances. Your family connections are the ticket to consolidating my position in society and getting even more sponsorship roles, and I need people to believe we’re a couple.

You have to admit, the two of us together make a great picture. "

My throat closes. A tickling sensation teases my nostrils. I shake my head in disbelief. “You don’t mean it.” I sniff. “You’re only saying this because of the alcohol coursing through your veins.”

He stares at me, then nods. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

He nods. “I am drunk, as you pointed out, and horny. Where better to scratch my itch than with the whore who’s always ready to spread her legs for me?”

I reel back as if he slapped me. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s not in his senses.

“I know exactly what I’m saying”—his lips curl—“and I’ll remember every single thing when I’m sober. You’re nothing but a willing slut for me. Albeit, a slut with family connections, which will help consolidate my position in society and get better sponsorship roles.”

“I... I don’t believe you,” I whisper.

“Better believe it, doll. You’re the ticket to more money and influence, and nothing more.“

My throat closes. A tickling sensation teases my nostrils. If there were ever a time he might slip up and admit his feelings for me, it’s now when he’s drunk. Instead, it’s clear the alcohol has only loosened his tongue so all the hate he’s stored up inside is bubbling to the surface.

"S-so that’s all we are? A social media opportunity?"

"You said it, baby."

The backs of my eyes burn. "And there’s nothing else between us?"

He yawns. "You’re boring me. But if you want me to repeat it, then yes, there’s nothing between us.

We can never be anything, Abby, and the sooner you accept that, the better it’ll be for you.

Now,"—he glances around, then heads in the direction of my bedroom—"I need to get some sleep if I want to be on time for practice tomorrow. "

"Huh?" I stare, open-mouthed, as he weaves his way through the open door and toward my bed. "Hey, what are you doing?" I head inside the room, but he’s already face down on my mattress.

"Cade, get up!" I shake his shoulder, but there’s no response. "Cade, wake up. This is not your bed; it’s mine. And after what you said, if you think I’m going to let you stay here, you’re wrong. Cade—" His deep breathing interrupts me. "The hell?"

I glance down at what I can see of his face.

His lips are parted, that jawline even more pronounced in repose.

He’s down for the count. Fuck. My. Life.

I drag my gaze down his broad back, those tight butt cheeks encased in jeans, powerful thighs, defined calves and feet still encased in shoes.

I blow out a breath. I should let him sleep with his shoes on.

He deserves to be uncomfortable, especially after how he laughed at me. "Asshole."

I turn to leave, attempt to step forward, but my feet are rooted to the ground. I throw up my hands. "Aargh!" Why do I have to be so concerned about him after how he treated me? It doesn’t matter what I did to him. No one deserves to have their feelings laughed at. So, why am I unable to leave?

I pivot and stomp over to the foot of the bed. I manage to pull off his sneakers and drop them on the floor. It’s only because I don’t want his dirty shoes on my bed, yep, that’s all it is.

I shake my head, then walk around to my side of the bed.

I grab a pillow, plant it between us, then clamber under the covers.

I’m not going to let this douche-cretin push me out of my own bed.

Besides, I’ve put a barrier of sorts between us, so it’s going to be fine, right?

I turn my back on him, close my eyes, and fall asleep.

My eyes snap open on a gasp. My heart hammers in my chest. My pulse beats at my temples, at my wrists, between my legs. Between. My. Legs. My breasts ache, my toes curl. Something wet laps up my slit, and my pussy clenches. I glance down to find his head between my thighs.

I gasp, "What are you doing?"