Read Online Bound To Him: Three Dates with a Billionaire by Emma Lyn Wild - Free Book Online

on the bedside table, probably set for some ungodly hour in the morning. I wondered if I should stop it, and give her an extra hour. Maybe send for those jeans and find her a T-shirt for her to wear, something that hugged her curves instead of ignoring them.
    She breathed deeply, a sigh, moving her arm so I had a better view of her breasts. Mouthwatering, with those cute little berry-colored nipples tipping them like the cherry on a mound of gelato. The minute I set eyes on her, on her knees putting that Roman pavement together like a jigsaw, she’d captivated me. Of course since the first view I had of her was her ass, that was more or less a given. Even her shapeless jeans had to give something away sometimes.
    In the dress she’d worn to the dinner at the museum, she’d looked more edible than the shit they put on my plate. I nearly sent the meal back, but I remembered my Dad warning me I was on probation. After the last scandal, I’d have to do something right before he had me back and since he was one of the most influential men in Hollywood, that meant I’d be a useless, out of work, wealthy actor. It was my old man’s fault that I couldn’t do anything else anyhow. He’d only insisted I go to college because it looked good in the media. Even then I’d studied drama, and not the subjects I’d wanted to. I’d had dreams of studying the business side of the movie world. After all, that’s where all the money is made. But no, I inherited good looks so acting was my thing.
    I hadn’t done too badly at it, even if it did mean I had to work out with a personal trainer. All that shit just to get a good shape had finally paid off.
    I watched Cassie sleep for a few more seconds before I made my mind up. I’d risk it. Hold her while she slept. As long as she had her back to me I should be fine.
    I turned to walk around the bed, but I spotted something on the floor. A lipstick. Well, it couldn’t belong to anybody but Cassie. She must have dropped it. Together with her business card, apparently.
    Picking up the tube of lipstick, I put it next to her phone, where she’d see it in the morning. As I straightened, I saw something else. A business card. I liked that she had one. Or maybe it was a taxi number. That would be sensible. With my face I got away with a ton of shit, but I wouldn’t blame her if she was ready to run.
    I glanced at the card before I put it down. Then I froze.
    Madame X it said Provider of very special escorts. Underneath was the line Call for a list of our services. And a phone number, and website address, one I knew well.
    I wasn’t ashamed of using prostitutes. Sometimes I had the urge but no time to spare to wine and dine a woman. Besides, if I did that she generally assumed I’d want to see her again. I’d dated — and fucked — a few actresses too, but they were a skinny, insecure bunch and while I understood they needed to starve for their jobs, just like I had to work out, skinny just wasn’t my type. Calling somebody discreet and getting a pretty girl who had no expectations above a good tip and a good time suited me fine. Or rather, it had.
    I hadn’t called Madame X or any other of her kind since I’d arrived in New York. I was treading a fine wire here, and tightrope walking was making me antsy. I’d promised to behave myself while I was here. The only thing I could do was pray the play closed early. I could claim it wasn’t my fault, then.
    But if anybody found out I’d dated a girl from Madame X’s stable, I was well and truly fucked — in every sense of the word.
    Anger swamped me. How could Cassie have taken me in so completely? She’d seemed so innocent, so sweet, but all the time she’d been lying to me. I’d had my share of women lying to me. Part of my anger was because I should have known better. I’d taken her at her word.
    I’d been set up. Maybe the media had got to her. And if she sold her story, that was the end. My career, my ambitions, they’d all be