What He Needs (What He Wants, Book Four) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Read online

  He stepped back and looked at me, the sides of his mouth twitching up into a wicked little grin. It was the grin of a man who knew he was in control and was enjoying every single second of it.

  “Turn around, Charlotte,” he commanded. I turned around, and he pushed me down onto the counter again, my cheek hitting the cool marble. His hand slid down my back, slowly and deliberately. My whole body broke out into goose bumps.

  When he got to my ass, he slapped it.

  “Do you trust me, Charlotte?” he asked.

  I thought about it a beat too long, causing him to spank me again.

  “Obviously you don’t,” he said, his palm smacking my backside. “I thought we went over this at the club. I thought you understood that your trust is required if you and I are going to be in a relationship.”

  I wasn’t sure what kind of relationship he was talking about, but I loved that he was talking about us as if we were a couple, a package, two people who wanted to be together.

  He hit me again. This slap was harder, his intent clear --- I needed to submit to him, and in order to do that completely, I had to trust him. Anything less was unacceptable.

  He spanked me again, harder still, and I cried out. The pain was sharp, but it was only serving to make me more turned on. It was like the pain was playing off my sexual pleasure, each one intensifying the other, swirling together to create a scorching heat that pulsed through my body.

  He spanked me harder, moving from one cheek to the other, his palm smacking me so hard I was sure he was going to leave marks. The thought of him branding me only served to make me wetter.

  “Please,” I said. “I’m sorry. I want to submit to you, I want to trust you.”

  He stopped the assault on my ass, and I heard the sound of his buckle being undone, the whoosh as he pulled his belt off. My breath caught in my throat as he slid the leather strap over the back of my thighs. I was afraid he was going to whip me with it, but he dropped it onto the ground, and a second later I felt his cock against my ass.

  “Open your legs, Charlotte,” he said. I did. “Good girl. Now stick your ass in the air.”

  I arched my back and stood up on my high heels, spreading my legs more so he could have full access to my pussy.

  His cock slid against my slit, and I moaned.

  “No,” he said, slapping my ass again.

  I quieted.

  He stayed there for a long moment, his dick against me, teasing me.

  “Do you trust me, Charlotte?” he asked again.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Smack.

  “Tell me.”

  “I trust you.”

  He slid inside of me, slow and deep, filling me in the most exquisite way. He began moving inside of me, fucking me, faster and harder until he was pounding away at me. I hung onto the side of the breakfast bar as he fucked me, my nipples brushing against the hard marble.

  His dick was rock hard, stretching me out as he pumped in and out.

  He went faster until I was about to come, and then slowed down, pulling me up toward him until I was standing, our bodies pressed together. “Charlotte,” he breathed. “Look at me.”

  I opened my eyes and said the words I knew he wanted to hear. “I trust you, Noah,” I said.

  “Again.”

  “I trust you.”

  The words seemed to excite him, but not in a frantic way. Now the way he was moving inside of me was more sensual, more controlled.

  “I trust you,” I said again, and his mouth was against mine as he hands grabbed at my hair, holding me tight as our tongues danced against each other. We kissed as he continued fucking me, moving so slowly inside of me that at times he was barely moving.

  Every time his cock slid in and out, I could feel it against my clit, and it sent waves of intense pleasure pulsating through my body.

  Finally, he broke away from the kiss.

  “Come on me,” he whispered, and the sound of his voice, the want, the need that was there was enough to push me over the edge. I came on him, and a second later, I felt him shoot inside of me, filling me up while I orgasmed.

  I collapsed onto the counter, spent, and he laid his body on top of me, strong and warm and safe. After a moment, he picked me up in his arms and began carrying me into the bedroom.

  “Noah!” I protested, burying my face in his neck. “We can’t go back to bed.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s the middle of the day.”

  He set me down carefully on the bed, brushed my hair away from my face and kissed my lips. “I don’t care.”

  We climbed under the covers and he wrapped his arms around me, making me feel safe and protected. I couldn’t understand how anyone could think this man was capable of murder. When I was with him, I felt like nothing could hurt me – that not only would he never harm me, but he would protect me from anything that might cause me pain.

  We lay there for a moment, him holding me, his hands tracing a line from my shoulder down my arm, and back up, over and over again until I started to feel drowsy. I closed my eyes and after a while felt sleep starting to pull me under.

  “I’m sorry,” Noah said, his voice pulling me back awake.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry.” He reached out and took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers.

  “For what?” I asked.

  “For not listening to you.”

  “Not listening to me about what?”

  There was a rustling of sheets, and Noah propped himself up on his arm, looking down at me. “Look at me,” he said.

  I turned so I was lying on my side and gazed up at him.

  He looked down at me, slid his other hand under the sheets and across my stomach, wrapped it around my waist and stroked my hip. Just his touch was enough to get me hot again, and I took a deep breath and tried to slow my heart rate. We were about to have what sounded like a real conversation, and I wasn’t going to let my stupid hormones get in the way of that.

  “You said you wanted to get closer to me, you said you didn’t want this to just be about sex. And I made it all about me. I took you to that club.”

  “No, it was… I mean, I liked going to that club.”

  He shook his head, the tips of his fingers still grazing my hip bone, moving in a soft, slow, circle. “I’m glad. But I want to make sure your needs are being met, too, Charlotte. You need to trust me because you know I have your best interests in mind, that I would never hurt you. And part of that is me doing things to make you happy.”

  “I’m happy. I mean, I’ve been happy being with you. But I want… I want to get to know you,” I said. “I feel so close to you when we’re… when we’re doing that kind of sex stuff, and I want to keep doing it, but I want to know you better, too.”

  He nodded, his grip on my hip tightening. “It’s extremely difficult for me.”

  “And it’s extremely difficult for me to trust you enough to let you do the things you’ve been doing to me.”

  I saw a flicker of displeasure cross his face, and I could tell he didn’t like me saying I didn’t trust him. I remembered how he made me say I trust him while he was fucking me, how it excited him.

  “Why is it so hard for you?” I asked gently.

  He took a deep breath and his jaw clenched. “Everyone I’ve ever let in has left.”

  The statement was so simple, so clear, that for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say back.

  “Nora?” I asked finally.

  He flinched at her name, and his face set again, and I was afraid his walls were going to come back up. But then he nodded. “Nora. My father. My mother. My brother.”

  “Oh.” I wanted to ask him if his family was dead, like Nora, or if it was something else. But I could tell from the pain in his voice that it was extremely hard for him to talk about this, and I didn’t want to push him too hard.

  “Are you close with your family, Charlotte?” he asked me.

  I thought about it. “I’m clo
se with my sister,” I said finally. “My mother and I have a complicated relationship.”

  “And your father?”

  “He died when I was sixteen.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” It was the standard response I gave whenever anyone said they were sorry about my dad. It had never made sense to me, people saying they were sorry. How could they be so sorry when they never even knew him?

  “Charlotte,” Noah said, running his hand up my side. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I sent a silent prayer that Noah wouldn’t ask me how my father died, that I wouldn’t have to relive those horrible moments, even just in memory.

  “And your mother? What does that mean, you have a complicated relationship?”

  “It means that it’s complicated. I love her, but I’m not sure I like her.”

  This made Noah smile. “Why don’t you like her?”

  “She’s made some life choices that I don’t agree with. And she expects me to just accept her for them, and yet when I make choices she doesn’t agree with, she has no problem telling me that I’m ruining my life. Plus she remarried after my dad died, and I don’t care much for my stepfather.”

  “Why? Did he hurt you?” Noah demanded.

  “What? No. He’s just sort of … an asshole. I’m supposed to be going to his birthday party tomorrow night. It wasn’t a good night for anyone, but he insisted on it because it had to be on his actual birthday.” I shook my head, realizing what a baby I sounded like. “Anyway.”

  I reached out and touched Noah’s chest, letting my fingers linger on his pecs, his shoulders, his abs. Now that we weren’t caught up in a frenzy of lust, I had time to feel him, really feel him, and appreciate how firm and fit his body was.

  “I’d like to go with you,” Noah said, his voice serious and quiet.

  My hands stopped at his biceps. “To the party?”

  “Yes. If it’s all right.”

  “Sure,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “That would be nice.”

  He nodded, like it was all settled.

  I settled back into the crook of his arm, and he pulled me against him and kissed me on the forehead.

  “What time is it?” I murmured.

  He rolled over and looked at the clock. “It’s almost two.”

  “Crap,” I said. “I have a meeting with Professor Worthington soon. About your case.” I moaned. “I’m so not in the mood for that.”

  “What are you in the mood for, Charlotte?” he asked, pulling my hips into his.

  I felt his erection against my leg and shook my head, pulling away from him. “You are insatiable,” I said.

  “Only for you.”

  “But if I’m going to get to my meeting on time, I have to shower.” I stood up, suddenly bashful about the fact that I was naked, even though obviously Noah had seen me naked and in many unmentionable positions.

  I tried to keep the blanket wrapped around me, but Noah reached over and grabbed at it until it slid into a pool on the floor.

  “I want to look at you,” he said. “Anytime I want.”

  I felt exposed and vulnerable as I walked to the bathroom, but I loved knowing that he liked looking at my body, that he was so turned on by it that he could get hard just by being close to me.

  After I showered, I dried my hair and dressed in some of the clothes I’d brought from my apartment. It felt a bit weird, wearing different clothes to see Professor Worthington than what I’d worn this morning, but my other clothes were strewn about the kitchen, wrinkled and in no condition to wear to a meeting.

  When I got back into the bedroom, Noah had pulled on a pair of drawstring pajama pants and was checking his emails on his iPad.

  “Will I see you back here later?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I nodded. “We could… I mean, we could have dinner?” It felt strange, asking him to dinner after we’d done things that were so much more intimate.

  “Sure.” Noah nodded. “I have some things I’d like to discuss with you, too.” His eyes blazed, and I knew what he was talking about. The BDSM stuff. He wanted to talk about the rules, and I remembered how he’d said that sex was just one part of it.

  “Okay.” I said. I was excited to learn more about what was expected of me. Him telling me what to do, me having to live by his rules, to exist to please him, to pleasure him, in whatever way he desired was a turn on. And now that he’d let me in a tiny bit, now that he’d wanted to go to a party with my family, it just felt… right.

  I did trust him.

  It wasn’t just words.

  One of things that I’d learned about being a good lawyer was that you always had to trust your instincts. And my instincts said that Noah could be trusted, that he wasn’t a killer

  He was a good man.

  The kind of man you could fall in love with.

  I was halfway out the door when my phone buzzed. I looked down. A text from Julia.

  We should talk.

  I didn’t really have any interest in talking to her, so I closed it out and decided to deal with it later. But I noticed my phone battery was about to die, and I rustled through my bag, looking for my charger. It wasn’t there. I must have forgotten to grab it in the rush to get out of my apartment.

  I walked back to the bedroom and poked my head in the door. “Hey,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra iPhone charger, would you?”

  “In the drawer in the office,” he said. “If there’s not one there, have Jared stop at the store on the way and run in and get you one.”

  “Jared?” I asked, surprised. “Your driver?”

  “Yes,” Noah said, looking up from his iPad. “I won’t have you riding the subway or taking a taxi, Charlotte. It’s far too dangerous.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to stop me. “My rules.”

  I nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with him. “Where’s the office?”

  “Down the hall, second door on the left.”

  I hurried down the corridor and into the office. The room was painted in a calming shade that was somewhere between blue and slate grey. On the walls hung framed black and white prints of the city. A huge marble desk stood in the center of the room, with a desktop computer sitting on it, with a screen saver that showed the logo of Noah’s firm, Cutler and Associates.

  The room was beautiful and sleek, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of room I’d want to do any work in. There was nothing warm about it – no half-full coffee mug on the desk, no family photos, no books on the shelves. The only bookshelf was filled with books with covers in shades of grey and white to match the décor, and the only other furniture was a dark oak filing cabinet and an uncomfortable looking grey chair.

  I crossed the room to the desk, opening the drawers carefully one by one. Everything inside of them was neat, meticulous, paper clips sorted into little containers, binder clips neatly arranged, a fresh pad of post-its and a full jar of pens.

  But no phone charger.

  I was about to leave and have Jared stop at the store on the way, as Noah had suggested, when my eyes fell on the file cabinet in the corner. Could Noah have meant the charger was in there?

  I went over and tried the top drawer, but it was locked. The middle drawer was locked as well. But the bottom drawer was open slightly, like someone hadn’t pushed it completely shut the last time they’d used it.

  I crouched down and slid it open, but it was filled with forest green file folders, all of them hanging neatly. I ran my hands over the labeled tabs, wondering if they were cases Noah had worked on. I wondered if he’d let me read them. I’d been so focused on Noah as a client, that I’d forgotten he was a lawyer in his own right, and a very successful one at that. I could learn a lot from him.

  I was about to shut the file cabinet and head out when I saw it.

  Her name.

  Katie Price.

  It was written
on one of the file folders.

  It must have been a coincidence, I told myself. Maybe Noah kept files on all his employees, filled them with performance reviews and that kind of thing.

  My hand flew to the folder, and I pulled it out. I sat there on the floor for a moment, just staring at it.

  Don’t open it. It’s not your business. It has nothing to do with you. You said you trusted him, and you do. If it’s true, if you really mean it, you won’t open the file.

  But I couldn’t resist.

  It was sitting there right in front of me.

  I opened it.

  And gasped. The folder was filled with pictures of Katie, shot from a wide angle lens from far away. Katie leaving her apartment. Katie coming out of a coffee shop. Katie walking into a bar, dressed in a halter top and tight black pants. Katie leaving Cutler and Associates. Katie ducking into a cab.

  Whoever took the pictures must have been following her.

  The back of each picture was marked with a date and a time.

  I flipped through the pictures, one after another, dozens of them. Finally, in the back of the file folder was a slim stack of printed out pages. Each one listed where Katie was at a certain time of day, right down to the minute and making note of the exact address.

  Someone had been tracking her movements.

  Someone wanted to know where she was, every second of every day. Someone was figuring out her routines, so they would know where she was.

  It must have been Noah.

  I sat there, the horrible realization washing over me.

  I had thought I could trust him.

  But the truth was, I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t run from the truth any longer. Noah was a murderer. And the sooner I got away from him, the better.

  The End Of Book Four

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