Read Online The Long Hot Summer (Billionaire Season Book 1) by Kimball Lee - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kimball Lee
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the internet the year before. Only problem was she hardly ever used it thanks to the lack of door locks in her college dorm. Not only that, but the stupid batteries just loved to run out of power at the most inopportune moment. Mostly she forgot she even had the strangely effective gizmo since finding a moment alone in her dorm room was rare. Her roommate Jenna was a new age free-spirited hippie who encouraged Allie to go ahead and use her “masturbatory device” while Jenna was three feet away in her bed studying, it wouldn’t bother her. She informed Allie that she did most of her masturbating in the girl’s shower and she didn’t give a shit who saw or heard her, people had needs, so why didn’t all the little sorority prudes just get the fuck over it.
But Allie couldn’ t imagine having an orgasm with Jenna in the same room. The truth was she hadn’t ever had an orgasm with anyone else in the room, not even the boyfriend she had fairly frequent sex with. So she had basically given up on sex. Her battery-powered toy was unreliable and her now ex-boyfriend had hated to tell her so, but he said she really didn’t have a knack for sex… period, the end. The end until William Warfield had opened a Pandora’s Box of carnal desire and smoking hot imagery that was waking her up in more ways than one.
*
William or his father, she wasn’t sure which, had arranged for her to have a sumptuous suite rather than a single room. She slipped out of bed and shrugged into a plush bathrobe monogrammed with an ornate CW for Countess Warfield . What a life ! She mused as she wandered from the bedroom to the ornate white marble bath and then to the living and dining rooms. The rooms were elaborately decorated in an Art Deco style to match the era when the luxury ocean liner was first launched into service. Large polished brass portholes provided a picturesque view of the New Orleans skyline paired with a glimpse of the wide green Mississippi River. Everything about this sultry city pulsed with a history of carnality and romance. It had been home to pirates who were bewitched by voodoo priestesses, southern gentlemen gallantly courting seductive southern belles, streetcars named for desire, and Storyville—the red-light district where the House of the Rising Sun had been the ruin of many willing young men and where prostitutes practiced their craft from 1897 to 1917 under the approving patronage of local authorities.
The irony was not lost on Allie. Here she was in the romance capitol of America and she was falling for the one man who wanted nothing to do with the nonsense of love or sex that might actually link his dick to his heart. A knock at the door tore her thoughts away from William and his face and his body and his heart and his dick. Man, what a lethal combination ! She sighed and answered the door.
“Breakfast, Miss Darling, compliments of the hotel and your… luggage, I suppose you could say, compliments of Mr. William Warfield,” the young man gave her a conspiratorial grin and rolled the cart into the suite.
“Thank you, and to refer to my duffel bag as luggage is pushing it a bit, don’t you think?” Allie found her purse, dug through it and held out a tip for the bellman. He waved his hands in front of him as he backed out the door, refusing the money and repeating “Compliments of Mr. Warfield.”
“Compliments of Mr. Warfield, compliments of mister I’m not the man for you so steer clear of me Allie, blah blah blah. Well you can kiss my ass… not that I could even get you to, but make up your freaking mind William Warfield, either you’re in my life or you’re not! I DO NOT WANT TO BE YOUR BUDDY! Fabulous, now I’m talking to myself… and maybe shouting a little, too.”
*
William was trying desperately to rationalize the reason he was reading the Wall Street Journal in the lobby of the Countess Warfield at nine o’clock in the morning. After all, his offices were there on the top deck of the
But Allie couldn’ t imagine having an orgasm with Jenna in the same room. The truth was she hadn’t ever had an orgasm with anyone else in the room, not even the boyfriend she had fairly frequent sex with. So she had basically given up on sex. Her battery-powered toy was unreliable and her now ex-boyfriend had hated to tell her so, but he said she really didn’t have a knack for sex… period, the end. The end until William Warfield had opened a Pandora’s Box of carnal desire and smoking hot imagery that was waking her up in more ways than one.
*
William or his father, she wasn’t sure which, had arranged for her to have a sumptuous suite rather than a single room. She slipped out of bed and shrugged into a plush bathrobe monogrammed with an ornate CW for Countess Warfield . What a life ! She mused as she wandered from the bedroom to the ornate white marble bath and then to the living and dining rooms. The rooms were elaborately decorated in an Art Deco style to match the era when the luxury ocean liner was first launched into service. Large polished brass portholes provided a picturesque view of the New Orleans skyline paired with a glimpse of the wide green Mississippi River. Everything about this sultry city pulsed with a history of carnality and romance. It had been home to pirates who were bewitched by voodoo priestesses, southern gentlemen gallantly courting seductive southern belles, streetcars named for desire, and Storyville—the red-light district where the House of the Rising Sun had been the ruin of many willing young men and where prostitutes practiced their craft from 1897 to 1917 under the approving patronage of local authorities.
The irony was not lost on Allie. Here she was in the romance capitol of America and she was falling for the one man who wanted nothing to do with the nonsense of love or sex that might actually link his dick to his heart. A knock at the door tore her thoughts away from William and his face and his body and his heart and his dick. Man, what a lethal combination ! She sighed and answered the door.
“Breakfast, Miss Darling, compliments of the hotel and your… luggage, I suppose you could say, compliments of Mr. William Warfield,” the young man gave her a conspiratorial grin and rolled the cart into the suite.
“Thank you, and to refer to my duffel bag as luggage is pushing it a bit, don’t you think?” Allie found her purse, dug through it and held out a tip for the bellman. He waved his hands in front of him as he backed out the door, refusing the money and repeating “Compliments of Mr. Warfield.”
“Compliments of Mr. Warfield, compliments of mister I’m not the man for you so steer clear of me Allie, blah blah blah. Well you can kiss my ass… not that I could even get you to, but make up your freaking mind William Warfield, either you’re in my life or you’re not! I DO NOT WANT TO BE YOUR BUDDY! Fabulous, now I’m talking to myself… and maybe shouting a little, too.”
*
William was trying desperately to rationalize the reason he was reading the Wall Street Journal in the lobby of the Countess Warfield at nine o’clock in the morning. After all, his offices were there on the top deck of the
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