Read Online The Alpha Billionaire Club Trilogy by Alexa Wilder - Free Book Online
Authors: Alexa Wilder
Ads: Link
make you his girlfriend or fall in love with you. Do not get attached. Take the orgasms, rub your sisters’ noses in your unbelievably hot date, and then let it go.
I was trying to listen to myself. The last thing I needed was another broken heart after what happened with Steven. Not that he really broke my heart, but the humiliation and anger over what he’d done was bad enough. I didn’t need to fall for a billionaire playboy who was only looking for a good time. Resolving to stay in control of my emotions, I concentrated on putting on my lotion, drying my hair and adding some makeup so I looked a little more sophisticated. I needed all the armor I could get if I was going to keep up with Dylan.
I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, to find my clothes hadn’t been put away neatly like my toiletries. I checked the walk-in closet and found mainly Dylan’s things, rows of suits, dress shoes, casual wear, all neatly folded or hung in a closet bigger than my bedroom at home.
In a small section near the door, I discovered a few items of women’s clothing. Three dresses, two pairs of jeans I knew cost several hundred dollars each. A few blouses, two tailored skirts and a selection of shoes. Beside it all, a drawer full of lingerie. All of it top quality. I was pretty sure I recognized the black spike heels with the distinctive red sole as Louboutins. Exactly the kind of clothes a woman who belonged with Dylan Kane would wear.
My heart sank. There was no commitment between us, but I wasn’t a cheater. I didn’t cheat on my own boyfriend and not with someone else’s. He’d been so open with me in front of his employees, I’d assumed that meant he didn’t have anything to hide. Maybe he didn’t. He was obscenely wealthy, he owned the casino, and he was well known. If I read the paper more often, I would have recognized him on sight at the bar. Maybe his girlfriend didn’t care if he had fun on the side as long as she got to hang part of her exclusive designer wardrobe in his penthouse closet.
I sat on the bench in the middle of the closet, my stomach twisting in disappointment, trying to figure out what to do. I wanted to stay. Dylan was charming. He was fun, and he was the best sex I’d ever had by far. I only had until Sunday with him anyway, which was barely two days. I wasn’t the one with a girlfriend. I was unattached. I could do whatever I wanted.
No you can’t. Sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend will make you feel like shit. You know it will . And it would. I already felt guilty and, while I had slept with another woman’s boyfriend, at least I’d done it unknowingly. If I didn’t leave, I’d be doing it on purpose. The whole idea made me feel cheap. Sure, making a deal to sleep with a guy in exchange for his pretending to be my boyfriend for the weekend wasn’t exactly classy, but when I’d thought we were both free it had seemed like fun. Crazy, unexpected, not like me at all kind of fun. Now it didn’t feel like fun at all.
I stood, cinched my towel tighter around my chest, and prepared to face Dylan. I would rather have done it in anything other than a towel, but I still didn’t know where my clothes were and I wasn’t going to borrow his girlfriend’s, not that they would fit. Any girlfriend of Dylan’s serious enough to have her clothes in his closet would be skinny and perfect
Dylan was standing in the living room of the penthouse, dressed in faded jeans and an unbuttoned white shirt, his sexy feet bare on the polished wood floor. He had his phone to his ear, talking in a low voice as he absently took in the view through the window. Seeing me, he said a quick goodbye and hung up. I looked around the room, avoiding Dylan’s eyes, feeling my cheeks heat at the sight of the tall window behind him. I’d let him fuck me against that window. Let him show me to the room service waiter. I hadn’t felt ashamed then. I did now.
“Do you want me to order breakfast in, or
I was trying to listen to myself. The last thing I needed was another broken heart after what happened with Steven. Not that he really broke my heart, but the humiliation and anger over what he’d done was bad enough. I didn’t need to fall for a billionaire playboy who was only looking for a good time. Resolving to stay in control of my emotions, I concentrated on putting on my lotion, drying my hair and adding some makeup so I looked a little more sophisticated. I needed all the armor I could get if I was going to keep up with Dylan.
I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, to find my clothes hadn’t been put away neatly like my toiletries. I checked the walk-in closet and found mainly Dylan’s things, rows of suits, dress shoes, casual wear, all neatly folded or hung in a closet bigger than my bedroom at home.
In a small section near the door, I discovered a few items of women’s clothing. Three dresses, two pairs of jeans I knew cost several hundred dollars each. A few blouses, two tailored skirts and a selection of shoes. Beside it all, a drawer full of lingerie. All of it top quality. I was pretty sure I recognized the black spike heels with the distinctive red sole as Louboutins. Exactly the kind of clothes a woman who belonged with Dylan Kane would wear.
My heart sank. There was no commitment between us, but I wasn’t a cheater. I didn’t cheat on my own boyfriend and not with someone else’s. He’d been so open with me in front of his employees, I’d assumed that meant he didn’t have anything to hide. Maybe he didn’t. He was obscenely wealthy, he owned the casino, and he was well known. If I read the paper more often, I would have recognized him on sight at the bar. Maybe his girlfriend didn’t care if he had fun on the side as long as she got to hang part of her exclusive designer wardrobe in his penthouse closet.
I sat on the bench in the middle of the closet, my stomach twisting in disappointment, trying to figure out what to do. I wanted to stay. Dylan was charming. He was fun, and he was the best sex I’d ever had by far. I only had until Sunday with him anyway, which was barely two days. I wasn’t the one with a girlfriend. I was unattached. I could do whatever I wanted.
No you can’t. Sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend will make you feel like shit. You know it will . And it would. I already felt guilty and, while I had slept with another woman’s boyfriend, at least I’d done it unknowingly. If I didn’t leave, I’d be doing it on purpose. The whole idea made me feel cheap. Sure, making a deal to sleep with a guy in exchange for his pretending to be my boyfriend for the weekend wasn’t exactly classy, but when I’d thought we were both free it had seemed like fun. Crazy, unexpected, not like me at all kind of fun. Now it didn’t feel like fun at all.
I stood, cinched my towel tighter around my chest, and prepared to face Dylan. I would rather have done it in anything other than a towel, but I still didn’t know where my clothes were and I wasn’t going to borrow his girlfriend’s, not that they would fit. Any girlfriend of Dylan’s serious enough to have her clothes in his closet would be skinny and perfect
Dylan was standing in the living room of the penthouse, dressed in faded jeans and an unbuttoned white shirt, his sexy feet bare on the polished wood floor. He had his phone to his ear, talking in a low voice as he absently took in the view through the window. Seeing me, he said a quick goodbye and hung up. I looked around the room, avoiding Dylan’s eyes, feeling my cheeks heat at the sight of the tall window behind him. I’d let him fuck me against that window. Let him show me to the room service waiter. I hadn’t felt ashamed then. I did now.
“Do you want me to order breakfast in, or
Similar Books
