The Billionaire’s Passion (His Submissive #3)(3)
Author: Ava Claire

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I stopped pacing, but I was still in motion like I was on some demented carousel–and all I wanted was to get off. Nausea settled in my gut and I took a deep breath and let it go before I looked at Jacob. When his attention remained on the Ipad in his hands, the bubbling fear in my gut turned to scorching fury.

"Are you listening to me?"

His finger glided across the page and his forehead scrunched in concentration. Clearly not listening to me.

My mouth opened in frustration but I snapped it closed before I let out a string of expletives. To be honest, a choice word or two paled in comparison to what I really wanted to say. "Jacob!"

He glanced up at me, his eyes darkening with displeasure. "Yes?"

I crossed my arms tight against my chest, trying to keep my shaky limbs from ruling the stage and overshadowing the colossal clusterfuck my life was gonna be when those pictures hit the internet.

"Maybe you didn’t understand me." My tone was sharp enough to cut and I could tell I was close to losing his attention to whatever was on the screen, just to prove a point.

I forced my inflection to what I hoped seemed less combative. I pretended I was about to tell him of all the museums I wanted to see in the city instead of photographers snapping pictures of my rear. "There were men-"

"Papparazi, correct?"

I frowned. "Yes, I guess they were."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It is to be expected." He gave me a long look and I thought I saw an undercurrent of sympathy in his eyes before his attention reverted back to his tablet. "You forgot the ice?"

I dropped my arms, my hands balling into fists. "Yes, I forgot the goddamn ice! Excuse me for being more concerned that photographers were asking me intimate questions and snapping pictures of my vagina!"

He peered closer at the screen. "They snapped one of your rear end, but the picture is grainy at best."

I launched to the bed, snatching the device from him. I gasped when I looked at the screen and saw a magnified picture of me bending over to pick up the ice scoop. I swept my finger to the left and there was a shot with me looking like a deer in headlights, my face contorted in terror.

"Oh my god." I shuddered and I pressed my hand to my temple. This couldn’t be happening. "It happened an hour ago. How can it be up already?"

"How can it be up already?" he said incredulously. "To be honest, I’m surprised it took this long." He rose up and took the tablet back from me, pressing the button to put it back to sleep. “I have a feeling the local photogs had help.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “What do you mean help?”

“Someone with a bone to pick,” he scowled.

“Rachel,” I spat, like the name was something sour on my tongue. “That bitch.”

He reached for the bottle of vodka and I could tell from the tremble of his hand that he was struggling with using some expletives of his own. He took a sip of the liquid and winced as it went down. "Woman scorned and all that."

I frowned at his flagrant disregard for the seriousness of all of this. She’d actively put my name out there and now with the pictures, my face. Aside from the fact that I was clearly in a very powerful woman’s cross hairs, I’d be linked with last night and labeled as one of Jacob Whitmore’s women, forever. All it would take is a simple google search.

I felt dizzy and suddenly grateful I hadn’t eaten anything to vomit all over the floor. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

"For better or worse, I’m a public figure, Leila. The one place that isn’t very private is my private life." He tossed the tablet on the bed and took my face in his massive hands, forcing me to look him dead on. "I know it’s not fair, but it is what it is. And it could have been a lot worse."

His thumb stroked my cheek and for a beautiful moment, I lost myself in the gentle caress, letting the rare moment of tenderness carry me to a place where there was no one, nothing, but he and I. But the niggling feeling of invasion crept back in when his hands trailed down my body, cupping the curve of my bottom. The same bottom that was probably plastered all over blogs right this minute. And Oh My God what if the mainstream ran with this?

I could see my mother perched on the couch, cursing the keyboard as she pulled up her home screen. After checking her email, she always clicked over to the ‘Entertainment’ section to get her fill of Hollywood gossip. She’d probably think her mind was playing tricks on her before she let out a squeal that would rock Daddy from his nap in his old recliner.

When I’d told her that I’d been promoted on my first day and Jacob needed me in Italy on our way to the airport, she’d winked and said I must have made ‘quite the impression’. To her, the only weapon a woman had in her arsenal was her wiles and I’d spent most of my adult life trying to show her that brains were just as important. Those pictures would negate every single argument and when I finally called home, the first words out of her mouth would be ‘I told you so’.

"Everything is going to be okay, Leila."

I looked up at him stubbornly, not sure if I wanted to hug his neck for trying to make me feel better or wring it for obviously missing the point.

"My mother might see my derriere over dinner tonight," I said acidly as I reached behind me, gripped his wrists and broke his hold. "Things couldn’t be further from okay." I looked up into his face, hoping for something, some part that was digesting what I said, empathizing even, but I came up blank.

Of course he doesn’t get it Lay. He’s used to his sexcapades being splashed all over tabloid rags. And when he looped an arm back around my waist and sent my body crashing back into his, it was clear he wasn’t taking me seriously.

He leaned down, achingly lush lips pressing against mine, trying to wear me down. Trying to get me to let go. But not even his kisses could get me to turn off my frustration.

I pulled back and let out a sigh of aggravation when his fingers gripped my chin and he forced his mouth back on mine. I kissed him back, feeling his arousal swell against me before I gave myself a mental slap and yanked from his grasp.

Distance was good. Vital if we were gonna discuss this, because I couldn’t think with him so close, knowing that he was still burning hot for me. Not with a world of things he could still do to my body. Distance reminded me of a sobering fact. While he knew its ins and outs and ways to fit inside me like some lost puzzle piece, outside of the bedroom he was all thumbs. An indifferent stranger that couldn’t grasp that a couple of photos would change everything.