Page 3 of Wham, Bam, Marry Me, Ma’am (The Billings Brothers Trilogy #1)

Vaughn

Good girl.

I sit at my desk, wound like a top. No, not a top. Like a ticking time bomb. Destructive and deadly. Month after month, repressing my urges, desires, my base-level instinct to claim the woman I've fallen desperately in love with, and one moment of weakness implodes it all.

I clench my jaw so tight my teeth crack against each other.

Good girl?

The pencil I'm holding snaps in my hand, my rage intensifying when a sharp splinter slices into my palm. The pain is a reminder that I'm losing control. Enough. She is either reporting me to HR, or she didn't even hear me. I have to hope for the best.

I try to force myself to focus on the reports in preparation for the meeting in less than an hour, but I can't concentrate on my work.

The thought of Rachel leaving the company because I can't keep my feelings for her under control is suddenly more terrifying than having her continue working here.

I carry my distraction into the meeting, trying not to look at Rachel, but unable to keep my mind off her.

"No, Vaughn." The irritation in West’s voice calls me out for not paying attention. "Clinton and Barrett are going to Festival Valley to test out some of the camping designs we put together with Ludlow, Price, & Warner."

"Yes, of course." I turn to Rachel but keep my eyes on the papers in front of me. "Rachel will book you at the new resort there."

"Uh, Vaughn." Barrett clears his throat. "I'm staying with Ethan, and Clinton will be testing the equipment."

I stare at him blankly, and Barrett rears back slightly.

"It's camping equipment, so he's going to be camping with it," Barrett says slowly, like I'm a fool. And I am. A fool in love with a woman who drives me wild with her dark brown eyes.

"Right. Clinton, let Rachel know if you need help with a...getting a permit to camp," I say awkwardly, and Rachel gives him a little wave.

Clinton nods at Rachel. "Will do. I'll watch the weather. We need it cold but not dangerous, so we might have to play it by ear. Tentatively, we'll go the first week in May."

"Yes. Make sure it's safe. Paul, thank your team for their work on this." I nod at the head of Ludlow, Price, & Warner, sitting at the table across from me, and he raises an eyebrow. I furrow my brow, irritated by my distraction and everybody finding it humorous. "What?" I ask, exasperated.

"We're on the call, Vaughn. Appreciate your thanks." Hunter's amused voice comes over the speaker.

"Yes, the third time since we started the meeting. That's got to be a record." Mark chimes in.

The room chuckles, and I blow out a breath. Well, this is great. Fuck me.

"Alright, we're about done for today. Anything else from Hunter and Mark, or can we disconnect on our end?" Barrett looks around, and everyone nods, calling out their goodbyes to the guys on the call. Clinton excuses himself as well.

I reach for the paper Weston slides across the table with the updated financial numbers for the quarter, and Rachel gasps.

"Sir, are you bleeding?"

I blink at her. Every time Rachel calls me sir, I want to bend her over a table and make her come like it's my job. After much too long of a pause, I glance down and see a bit of blood has smeared across the paper. "It's nothing. I broke a pencil earlier. I'll get the splinter out later."

Barrett gives me a queasy look. "You need to get it out. You don't want it getting into your blood stream."

I glance at West who grins at me. When we were younger, West and I convinced Barrett if he didn't let us remove a splinter, it would go deeper into his body and pierce his heart.

Apparently, we were a little dramatic about the whole thing.

Might have done some permanent emotional damage since he still has an irrational fear of splinters.

"Yeah, Vaughn. And you're getting blood on our nice table," West shoots back.

Rachel swats him, and I glare at her perfect hand touching my brother's shoulder. She gets up to rummage through the back cabinet.

Rachel looks like the sexy librarian of my dreams today.

Her long dark hair is half up, and she's wearing her reading glasses for the meeting.

They emphasize her large brown eyes and the swell of her cheekbones.

She turns to dig deeper through the cabinet, and her heart-shaped ass calls to me.

The fitted skirt puts it on display, begging for my hands.

Her top has a high collar and long sleeves but is see-through, revealing a peek of lace on the tight camisole underneath.

It's molded to her perfect tits. Even the sneakers make her look sexy.

Although, barefoot this morning clearly had me losing my mind too.

I look away quickly and clear my throat, attempting to take notes about Clinton and Barrett's visit to Festival Valley.

Sensing a gaze upon me, I glance up to find Paul studying me intently.

His eyes shoot over to Rachel, and he raises an eyebrow.

I glare back at the papers, refusing to acknowledge his silent question.

Rachel turns, holding a small pouch, and walks closer to me, her brow furrowed in concern.

I panic. If I call her a good girl in front of my brothers, I will never be able to come to work again. We'll have to sell the company.

"It's fine," I snap, and Rachel freezes.

"Vaughn." I turn my head to Barrett and glare at the warning in his voice.

He glares right back at me, his lips set in a thin line.

He obviously didn't like my tone, but that asshole has no idea that I'm keeping him from watching me devour this woman in front of him.

He will get front row seats to the moment I claim her if he doesn't let me use a fucking tone right now.

"Let me get it out." Her soft voice penetrates my anger, and against my better judgment, I let her turn my rolling chair toward her as she takes a seat next to me.

She uses an alcohol wipe to clean the tweezers from the small kit.

She turns to me with a smile, tentatively holding out her hand.

Patiently waiting like I'm a small child, she gazes at me expectantly.

With a deep sigh, I finally place my hand palm-up in hers.

The moment I touch her, every ounce of anger and frustration melts away.

I'll do anything this intoxicating woman asks of me.

She turns on her phone's flashlight and leans over to get a closer look. Her hair smells like cherries and some kind of flower, and my cock hardens. I clench my jaw, doing my best to breathe through my mouth.

"There it is." Rachel turns her chair to get a better angle, and she's now sitting parallel to me.

She rests my hand on the table while she works, and my forearm presses along her ribcage.

Then, she leans forward, getting closer to my hand, and heaven shines down upon me as one perfect breast sits on top of my arm while she works.

I close my eyes, willing myself to run through baseball stats and cost analysis tables, but I keep coming back to one question. What color are her nipples?

"So stubborn," she murmurs, whether to me or the splinter, I don't know.

She's concentrating deeply in a way I've come to understand is her modus operandi.

Rachel is clever, thoughtful, and patient.

A perfect balance to my obsessive controlling approach.

She is peaceful but effective. Flexible, where I am stubborn. "It will hurt less if you stop moving."

I grunt in response. I'll show her how I can move. I'll move you up onto this table and make you come so hard you'll feel me for a week .

"Vaughn." West's voice snaps me out of my dirty thoughts. "We're taking Paul to lunch."

I nod stiffly, simultaneously thrilled with the prospect of being alone in the room with Rachel, but also terrified of what I'll do if they leave.

"Do you want me to order in for you guys?" Rachel looks up at my brothers and Paul.

"No, but we'll bring you back something. I'll text you when we pick a place, and you tell me what you want."

West texts Rachel? Since when? The growl that escapes from my lips causes the entire room to turn and look at me.

"Ow," I say pathetically, since she wasn't even working on my hand with West distracting her.

Rachel gives me a sympathetic pout and then returns to her work. "That is so nice, West. Thank you. I'm going out tonight, so I'll eat what I brought."

Out? With someone? I clench my jaw, the sharp prick of the tweezers the only thing keeping me grounded right now.

"Got it!" Rachel exclaims triumphantly, and my brothers smirk before exiting the room with Paul.

And then we're alone.

I try to pull my hand away, but Rachel gives me a firm tug. "One more minute. You'll still have time to get your work done. I don't want this to get infected."

I nod curtly.

Rachel spreads a bit of salve from the small tube of antiseptic, biting her lower lip in concentration as she works. Then, with a final moment of torture, the sexy vixen leans over and blows on my palm.

I suppress a moan. My cock strains against my zipper, and I lean forward in an attempt to hide it.

"Sorry," she breathes. "It will stop stinging in a moment."

What about the throbbing in my cock? I know how to stop that, but then I risk losing her forever.

Rachel grabs a bandage and carefully fits it on my palm. "Done!" Her grin is mesmerizing.

I swallow thickly, then stand and leave the room abruptly without even a mention of gratitude.

I'm a dick. I know it. But self-preservation is necessary for the greater good.

The rest of the day passes with me holed up in my office, waiting for Rachel to head home.

At eight-thirty, I poke my head out and her desk appears to be shut down for the day.

I head briskly down the hall, typing quickly on my cell as I respond to emails.

Without thinking, I step into the elevator as the doors close. I realize my mistake too late.

"I'm going down," Rachel says sweetly, trying to open the elevator doors to let me back out.

"Me too. I'm...going out," I lie, and Rachel nods. I move to the space behind her, eyeing her in the mirrored elevator doors as she absently plays with the ties of her shirt. She glances at me, biting her lip as she shifts from foot to foot.

Clenching my jaw, I imagine pushing her against the wall as I kneel before her to wrap her leg over my shoulder and bury my face between her thighs. It's not the first time I've wondered what she tastes like.

Rachel's cheeks turn red, like she can read my thoughts, and her eyes meet mine in the mirrored doors in front of us. She bites her lip but holds my gaze, and this time, I can't hold back.

"Fuck it." I take a step forward, wrap my arm around her waist, and draw her back toward me.

Rachel's eyes widen, watching me in the reflection. Her chest heaves when I lean over and bury my nose in her hair. She sucks in a breath, turning slightly to give me better access to her neck. Good girl. I run my lips lightly against her skin, barely grazing as she lets out a soft moan.

Emboldened by the lack of blood flow to my brain, I press the swell of my hard cock against her, forcing myself to show restraint instead of rutting against her like some kind of wild animal. The thought of scaring her is the only thing keeping me from a total frenzy.

"Can I kiss you?" I skirt my fingers up her ribcage over the gauzy material of her blouse. Closing my eyes, I wait impatiently for her response, desperate to get even a small taste of her as I inhale her sweet scent.

Rachel's breath catches, a little whimper escaping her, and my cock thickens with the promise of her lips.

I prepare to turn her toward me, but her soft, gentle voice breathes out one word, stopping me dead in my tracks.

"No."