The Billionaire's Addiction

Chapter Four - Hook, Line, and Sinker

Hook, Line, and Sinker

Adrian's POV

I tap my finger against my desk, glaring at my watch. It's two in the morning, I should be in bed.

Sleep is impossible.

It's raining. I can hear the soft ping of water hitting the shuttered window behind me. On my desk is a stack of contracts to be signed, reports to be filed, and Ellie's underwear.

God, damn.

Picking up the black silk I rub it between my fingers. Frankly, it surprised me to see her wearing something like this. It also aroused the hell out of me. Ellie seemed so reserved, so unsure of her appeal, and yet she secretly walked around in sexy as sin underwear and no bra.

Fuck, no bra. That was a killer. Ellie's tits were creamy globes of perfection. I can't wait to suck them, bite them, fuck my dick between them.

Jesus.

I shift uncomfortably, both aroused and disgusted with myself. Ellie was right, I am a fucking pervert. Rubbing a hand down my face I squeeze my eyes shut, debating on how best to handle the throbbing erection in my pants. I jerked off once already. I came hard, but wasn't satisfied. Not even close.

Elizabeth Reed, a woman paid to write about sex. How fitting. I can't get her out of my head.

Ellie kissing me...

Ellie spreading her legs for me...

Ellie coming for me...

Fuck.

My fingers clench around the soft silk in my hand. Groaning, I debate jerking off a second time. I did promise to use her panties after all...

A quick rap at the door shakes me from my arousal. I frown, only one person would be up this late. Tossing Ellie's panties in a desk drawer I call out roughly, "What?"

My head of security opens the door, his tall frame momentarily blocking out the light as he strolls in carrying a thick manila envelope. "Yer up late, boss." His Scottish accent is heavier than usual. A clear sign he was irritated.

"So are you," I muse, pouring myself a scotch. "Drink?"

He shakes his head, taking a seat in front of my desk. He's still dressed in his work clothes. No surprise there, Jake Gallagher lived for work. His dark grey trousers and white dress shirt are wrinkled, his tie crooked. "No, thanks."

I raise a brow. "What kind of Scott are you?"

Jake ignores me. "I need to speak to you about yer sister."

Straight to the point. Sighing, I lean back in my chair. "What about her?"

"Her bodyguard just quit."

God, damn it, Rosalie. "Another one..."

"That's the third bloody one this year alone," Jake all but snarls.

Rubbing a hand through my hair I exhale loudly. "I'm sure you can find a replacement."

"No one wants the job. She's too much of a liability." Scowling he yanks on his tie, pulling it loose. "She's completely out of control."

I can't deny it. Rosalie is an unholy wild child. The two of us used to have that in common. A close call was the end of it for me. I grew up, got smart. Rosalie was still stuck in her childhood, rebelling the only way she could, sex and drugs. "I suppose if a replacement can't be found you could always take on the job."