The Billionaire's Heart (His Submissive, Part Four) by Ava Claire
Authors: Ava Claire
Tags: submission, alpha male, billionaire romance, BDSM Romance, billionaire erotica, BDSM Erotic Romance, dominant male
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The Billionaire’s Heart (His Submissive, Part Four)
Ava Claire
Copyright 2012 Ava Claire
SMASHWORDS EDITION
E-book License Edition Notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
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Colors swirled and weaved across the ancient canvas, telling a story as powerful today as when it was first created.
A man in a busy Hawaiian shirt stepped up beside me, snapping a picture. “Wow. Bello. ” He hustled away without another word, off to fall in love with another painting.
I turned back to the vibrant swirls, nodding my head in silent agreement. Wow was right. Wow that I was in the Galleria dell'Accademia , surrounded by art spanning centuries. Wow that I'd spent the morning with Jacob Whitmore, the billionaire CEO of Whitmore and Creighton, playing the gawking tourist as we took in Venice.
Caging the butterflies was impossible when he'd ignored his buzzing cell phone, focusing all his attention on me. But whoever was at the other end spent three hours trying and failing to reach him and finally, I insisted he answer it. I used the time to catch my breath because a smile, the slightest touch from him, was enough to send electricity sprawling all over me. Jacob was finally letting me in, letting me see the man beneath the hard as nails image he broadcast to the world. He occupied every part of me, leaving nothing but a single truth.
I love him.
I cleared my throat and turned from the painting. There was something about the red strokes that was visceral. Passionate. It evoked emotions that would do nothing but complicate things. I loved him—it was as obvious as the nose on my face, but guys like Jacob Whitmore didn't say those words. To love was to show weakness.
I glanced down at the museum map and when my eyes shot back up, a woman stood firmly in my path. My brain formed the words ‘excuse me’ but nothing came out when I recognized familiar green eyes, ripe with contempt.
"Rachel?" I said, taking two steps back.
The sound of her name garnered a scowl as she pulled the visor of her hat down a few inches. Decked in a non-descript white tee, jeans, and floral flats, she was a long way from the glamorous Rachel Laraby that had the rest of the world enamored. Unfortunately, even dressed down she was breathtaking. Eyes glittered in the shadow of her baseball cap; round, plump lips sang even without the sheen of lipstick; curves taunted. Pangs of self-consciousness burned even though I knew the summer dress I wore flattered my lithe shape. She just had that effect.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Why else would she be here? "Rachel, if this is about Jacob-"
"Shh!" she hissed, glancing about nervously. "I need to talk to you. Privately."
I raised a brow. "Say what?"
"Do you have a minute so we can go somewhere and talk?"
She couldn’t seriously believe I wanted to go anywhere with her after she made it obvious that she wanted to take me down. “No, Rachel. I don’t have a minute.”
“I’m wearing a ball cap for Christ’s sake. Trust me, I wouldn’t be dressed like this and talking to you unless it was really important.” She saw that I was seconds from just plowing past, so she gave me a long, pleading look. “Please, Leila.”
"You've given me hell since the minute we me. What could we possibly have to say to each other?" I said, not wavering. Well, not until I saw the muscles in her face tighten and she snapped her mouth shut.
Whoa. Was Rachel Laraby actually holding back a quip? This was getting stranger by the second.
"What I have to say needs to be said.” She took a
Ava Claire
Copyright 2012 Ava Claire
SMASHWORDS EDITION
E-book License Edition Notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
****
Colors swirled and weaved across the ancient canvas, telling a story as powerful today as when it was first created.
A man in a busy Hawaiian shirt stepped up beside me, snapping a picture. “Wow. Bello. ” He hustled away without another word, off to fall in love with another painting.
I turned back to the vibrant swirls, nodding my head in silent agreement. Wow was right. Wow that I was in the Galleria dell'Accademia , surrounded by art spanning centuries. Wow that I'd spent the morning with Jacob Whitmore, the billionaire CEO of Whitmore and Creighton, playing the gawking tourist as we took in Venice.
Caging the butterflies was impossible when he'd ignored his buzzing cell phone, focusing all his attention on me. But whoever was at the other end spent three hours trying and failing to reach him and finally, I insisted he answer it. I used the time to catch my breath because a smile, the slightest touch from him, was enough to send electricity sprawling all over me. Jacob was finally letting me in, letting me see the man beneath the hard as nails image he broadcast to the world. He occupied every part of me, leaving nothing but a single truth.
I love him.
I cleared my throat and turned from the painting. There was something about the red strokes that was visceral. Passionate. It evoked emotions that would do nothing but complicate things. I loved him—it was as obvious as the nose on my face, but guys like Jacob Whitmore didn't say those words. To love was to show weakness.
I glanced down at the museum map and when my eyes shot back up, a woman stood firmly in my path. My brain formed the words ‘excuse me’ but nothing came out when I recognized familiar green eyes, ripe with contempt.
"Rachel?" I said, taking two steps back.
The sound of her name garnered a scowl as she pulled the visor of her hat down a few inches. Decked in a non-descript white tee, jeans, and floral flats, she was a long way from the glamorous Rachel Laraby that had the rest of the world enamored. Unfortunately, even dressed down she was breathtaking. Eyes glittered in the shadow of her baseball cap; round, plump lips sang even without the sheen of lipstick; curves taunted. Pangs of self-consciousness burned even though I knew the summer dress I wore flattered my lithe shape. She just had that effect.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Why else would she be here? "Rachel, if this is about Jacob-"
"Shh!" she hissed, glancing about nervously. "I need to talk to you. Privately."
I raised a brow. "Say what?"
"Do you have a minute so we can go somewhere and talk?"
She couldn’t seriously believe I wanted to go anywhere with her after she made it obvious that she wanted to take me down. “No, Rachel. I don’t have a minute.”
“I’m wearing a ball cap for Christ’s sake. Trust me, I wouldn’t be dressed like this and talking to you unless it was really important.” She saw that I was seconds from just plowing past, so she gave me a long, pleading look. “Please, Leila.”
"You've given me hell since the minute we me. What could we possibly have to say to each other?" I said, not wavering. Well, not until I saw the muscles in her face tighten and she snapped her mouth shut.
Whoa. Was Rachel Laraby actually holding back a quip? This was getting stranger by the second.
"What I have to say needs to be said.” She took a
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