Tributary: A Billionaire Romance (Oak Creek Book 2) Read online

  Mustache starts wringing my hand harder. “Oh, Mr. Wexler, truly, you have no idea what this funding stream will mean for patients. You will be saving countless lives, sir.”

  I cough, uncomfortably, and pull my hand back. I run it through my hair and look toward the door, hoping to signal that I’m ready for them to drive me back to the Omni hotel so I can sip whiskey alone. They don’t get the signal, though, and wheel in a cart of snacks. I pull out my phone to text Andrea. Bump down our percentage 10% and send them the contract.

  Almost immediately, my phone zings with her response. Have you gone mad? Are we running a nonprofit now?

  I feel a lightness in my chest, a stirring something akin to happiness. Grinning, I ask Mustache to show me to the restroom.

  In the hallway, I see an attractive woman from the back. She’s tall and slender, her long hair spilling down her back in gentle waves from the loose ponytail. Her tailored suit shows her curves, but only because I’m staring. I try to look away, realizing I seem like a creep, but then I hear her voice.

  Wavering, unsteady, she says, “Well thank you for the opportunity. I’m sorry, too.”

  Holy shit. “Diana?”

  She spins around and recognizes me. Her eyes flare. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Having a better day than you, from the looks of things.”

  I can tell that she wants to flip me off or kick me in the nuts, but she’s here on business, clearly. The man standing with her clears his throat and shakes her hand again. “Please keep in touch, Dr. Crawford,” he says. “I mean it.”

  She just nods and starts to walk down the hall. I’ll be damned if I let her go like this. “Diana!” I jog after her. “Wait up. Let me buy you a drink.”

  She emits a noise halfway between a cough and a strangulation. “There’s not enough booze in the world, Wexler.”

  “What do you mean? Seriously. Slow down.”

  She pauses and looks around the hall, biting her lip. “Don’t you have people you should be buying?”

  I gesture noncommittally back toward the conference room. “I finished all that. Let me take you to dinner.”

  “I’m going to be drinking my dinner today, but thank you.” She starts walking again. It occurs to me that she is on the verge of tears. She clearly just had a bad meeting.

  “Come on,” I say, reaching for her wrist. “Let me get you a cab and a stiff drink. You can throw it in my face if you want. We can start a tradition where you douse me with something different in each city.”

  She sighs. I’m in! I want to pump my fist in the air, but I refrain.

  “I will accept your cab and your whiskey, Wexler, but we aren’t starting a tradition. We aren’t starting anything at all.”

  “A gathering of acquaintances then,” I tell her, and one side of her mouth raises in a half smile. I’m grinning like a kid at Coney Island when I open her cab door for her and slide in beside her on the back seat. “Where can we get a stiff drink,” I ask the driver.

  He turns around and smiles. “You two look like you’d enjoy the Butterjoint.”

  “Sounds perfect.” I almost reach over to squeeze Diana’s thigh, and then I remember that we’re only familiar in my fantasies. She stares out the window as the cab pulls into traffic, and I stare at her for the short ride to the bar. “Keep the change,” I tell the driver, tossing him a fifty and racing around to open Diana’s door for her.

  She rolls her eyes but lets me open the door to the bar for her. The host escorts her to a table, and I hurry to catch up as she slides into a booth. She immediately flags down the server, orders two shots, and then tips them both down in quick succession when the arrive.

  “Ok, then,” I say. “Care to tell me what happened today?”

  “Oh, you know, just the end of my business,” she says, waving for the server to come back.

  I lean in and tell the guy to bring us a pitcher of water and some fries, and to make sure one of the next set of drinks comes to me. Then I squint and eye her up. “You really got dressed up for this,” I say. “Today must have been important if you left your boots behind.”

  “I used a damn curling iron,” she says, tugging at her hair. She squirms uncomfortably in her suit jacket, as if she’s just now realizing she’s not in jeans and soft cotton. I catch a whiff of floral scent as she tugs on her collar, and it’s more intoxicating than the whiskey that arrives at our table.

  “Tell me about your meeting,” I urge.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about business, Wexler.” She pauses. “Thank you for the hops seedling. That was…unexpected.”

  “Is it the right thing? Is it growing?”

  I lean forward as she nods and begins to tell me about the Tettnanger and her plans to brew a special beer with it this summer once it matures. “I can’t wait to taste it,” I tell her, licking my lips, hoping it’s clear I mean to taste both the beer and her hypnotic skin again, as soon as possible.

  She’s so animated, talking about her hydroponic lab and her growing lamps. It seems the trick to getting Diana to relax lies in asking her about plants. She even pulls out her phone and shows me the seedling I sent, climbing up its own little trellis in what must be her lab.

  “You can monitor all that remotely? Why so many cameras?”

  She shakes her head again. “Nope, not talking about my work. Nice try.” But she seems a little lighter, having shown me the little nozzles and sensors she’s got monitoring the hops, keeping track of the temperature and humidity just in that area. What specialized plants is she growing, I wonder, and what business deals brought her to a hospital in Pittsburgh?

  She sits back against the wall and crosses her arms, eating a fry. “So, what? You just saw me in the hall and walked out of your meeting without looking back?”

  I shrug. “Pretty much. My people will send the contract to their people…I’d rather have you yell at me than sit with them kissing my ass.”

  She sighs. I raise a brow at her and reach for a fry, waiting. “Wexler,” she says, finally. “I’ve decided to fuck you again. Where’s your hotel?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Diana

  ASA MOVES LIKE a man worried I’ll change my mind. Which, to be fair, is a decent hypothesis on his part. He throws a bunch of money on the table and yanks my hand, pulling me out into the crisp air. He pulls up a ride share app on his phone and tugs me into a Lyft a moment later. My heart is racing too fast to hear where he sends the driver.

  I figure, if I’m going to have the worst business day of my life, I might as well get some more of the best sex I’ve ever had. This doesn’t have to mean anything. Asa Wexler doesn’t do relationships. Indigo looked him up online. He’s got a string of wealthy kittens trailing after him like a ball of golden thread.

  In the back of the car, in the twilight that comes so early in winter, he slinks a hand over to my thigh. I gasp when his long fingers climb higher, toward the crease of my hip, and he slides closer to me, putting an arm around my shoulders. That hand goes traveling, too, reaching down under my arm toward the sensitive skin along my breast.

  “You look damn good today, Diana,” he whispers into my hair. I shiver, and turn my head toward him. The streetlights glint off his blue eyes, heady with lust. “You’ll look even better spread open on my bed.” And then his mouth is on mine and I forget we have an audience.

  His lips taste like liquor and like him, the unique male essence of Asa that trickled into my dreams the past few weeks. He doesn’t take the kiss too far, but I can feel the urgent need pulsing through him as he slips his tongue into my mouth, bites my lower lip gently.

  I remember that I didn’t get to see him naked last time, and I lift a hand to his chest, feeling the firm pecs through his suit jacket, eager to peel him out of these stiff layers. As he slips a patrolling finger into my waist band, my breath catches. The driver coughs and I see we’ve pulled up beside a luxury hotel downtown. Asa hustles me out of the car an
d into the door, where the bellhop sees him coming and tries to come suck up to him.

  “Mr. Wexler, can we bring you anything for your guest this evening?”

  Asa slaps a bill into his hand and tells him, “Make sure we aren’t disturbed and there’s more where that came from.” The boy nods and opens the brass-plated elevator. By the time the door slides shut, Asa has me backed against the wall, pressing the entire hard length of his body against mine.

  I moan, tilting my hips into his, feeling his shaft throbbing against his suit pants. I had forgotten, so quickly, how wild and powerful he feels. He wraps a hand in my ponytail like before and tilts my head back. When he nips at my neck, I know I’m gone. I want nothing more than for this man to toss me onto his bed, yank me out of my clothes, and fuck me senseless. To make me forget, even if it’s just for a little while.

  The elevator door opens right into his room—of course he has the penthouse—and he tosses me over his shoulder. I should hate being handled this way, but I don’t. I love the raw, wild energy coursing through him. He smacks my ass as he strides across the room and I laugh at the unexpected pleasure. He actually does toss me onto his bed and when I sit up halfway onto my elbows, I’m treated to the sight of Asa loosening his tie, stripping out of his stiff designer suit, his eyes flashing with hurried, desperate need.

  “I’ve spent a long time thinking about what I’d do with you if I ever got the chance again,” he says, his voice low.

  “And what did you decide,” I toy, starting to unbutton my blouse and shirking out of my jacket.

  He grins and lifts the tie from his neck, looking at the slatted headboard. Half-naked, he crawls across the bed and tugs off my shirt and bra, wrapping my wrist in one end of the necktie before looping it through the headboard. I moan as he grabs the other wrist and knots the silk tie around it. I feel open and totally exposed for him as he starts to lick and nip down my body, his hands exploring my skin.

  When he has me totally naked, he stands and slowly undresses himself while I stare. His hairy chest gives way to a trim waist, the muscular V of his lower abs disappearing only briefly into his boxers before he slides those down his hips. I lick my lips as he pulls out his cock. “Are you going to leave me here all night,” I prod, watching as he palms himself.

  “I might. It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?” My body is on fire, all my nerves exploding at once in anticipation of what he might do. Asa leisurely strokes his cock with one hand and, stepping closer to me, begins to slowly draw his other hand across my nipples.

  My hips shoot up from the bed involuntarily. I am desperate for more stimulation, more contact. And the bastard knows it, because he grins and pulls his hand away. “I hate you,” I tell him, weakly, and he cocks a brow as he slowly extends a hand toward my throbbing center.

  “So you probably don’t want me to touch you here, then?”

  I dig my heels into the mattress and try to thrust my hips up closer to his hand, hating myself for giving him this satisfaction, but unable to resist. With a laugh, Asa finally climbs into the bed and begins to caress my thighs. “I loved making you come,” he whispers against my leg. “I’m going to love it even more tonight.”

  I strain against the necktie as he lifts my legs over his shoulders. He meets my eye and grins, sliding his thumbs along my wet seam. “So wet, Diana,” he murmurs. “Tell me what you want.”

  “God, Wexler, please touch me. Oh!” As soon as the words leave my mouth, he begins to slide his thumbs inside my body, gently stretching me open, and then he brings his mouth to my body and begins to lick.

  My eyes roll back in my head as his tongue laps against my clit. As exciting as it felt to do this in my store, it feels a thousand times better when Asa is able to spread out and concentrate. The man is a connoisseur of pussy, lapping at my body until I’m on the brink of combustion.

  My hips churn wildly against his face and hands and I start to scream. “Yes, oh god, oh Asa, please. More.” As the orgasm crashes through me, I forget everything I was upset about. I forget that my life is in a shambles. He pulls back his head and presses a thumb flat against my body as the aftershocks roll past and my breathing slows.

  And then I think I pass out for a minute, because when I open my eyes, he’s kissing my forehead, nestled between my legs with his weight on his forearms. “So good,” I breathe, panting. I love the feel of his laugh rumbling through him.

  “You’re so fucking sexy, Diana Crawford.” When he dips his head to kiss me again, I can taste myself on his tongue. “I’m going to take you now,” he says. I open my eyes to see he’s already rolled on a condom and I watch as he slides inside me.

  “Yes,” I say, as he begins to move. “Yes, Asa.” I roll my hips along with him, meeting his body, finding a rhythm together. I love the feel of his chest hair against my breasts, the short, warm bursts of his breath as he picks up speed.

  I have never felt so in tune with a lover before. No matter what he does, my body responds so that the friction of our movement sends pleasure to my clit, through my core, into every one of my cells. “I’m not going to last much longer,” he groans. Asa reaches up with one hand and unties the silk binding my wrists.

  I immediately sink my hands into his hair, pulling him against me, kissing him as I moan into his mouth. “Oh, god, yes,” I wail, feeling the weight of him sink into me as his balls crash against me with every stroke.

  “Ah, fuck, Diana! Yes!” I feel him stiffen for a minute, and then, I’m pulsing along with him, coming as he gives way to his own pleasure, moaning together and riding the tide of our synchronized release.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Asa

  I’M TANGLED TOGETHER with a goddess. Her hair, sweaty and knotted, is wound around my arm. I have her pulled tight against my chest as I try to regain my composure. I’m not sure what the hell that was, but I’m not about to let go of her until I get to do it again.

  I’m still somehow half hard, and I slowly rock my hips against Diana’s ass, but she groans. “I need an hour. Or a month.”

  “How about I give you 15 minutes?” I love the sound of her laughter, so I try to get her talking again. “So what’s with all the hunting names? Diana…Hunter…”

  “Yes, and Archer and Fletcher. It sort of became a joke by the time Ma was pregnant with Fletch.” She wriggles and turns so she’s facing me, her fingers toying with the hair on my chest and sending tingles through my body. “Dad’s always saying he’s not sure how he managed to land a woman like Ma. That he needed the goddess of the hunt on his side to keep her.” She shrugs. “My mother liked that idea.”

  “I bet she did,” I say, gathering her hair back from her face so I can look into her brown eyes. I can see flecks of gold glint in the low light in the hotel room. I kiss the tip of her nose. “Can I ask about today yet or do I need to give you another orgasm first?”

  She groans. “Ah, fuck it. I lost a contract today. My only contract, really. So I’m back to square one.”

  “You were selling plants at the hospital?”

  I feel her stiffen. “I’m not giving you details, ok?” I nod, continuing to rub her shoulders. “I had a contract with the neurology researchers, and it ended. Some sort of bullshit state regulations about growing licenses and red tape.” She sighs and starts to back out of my arms. “It’s always something.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to raid your minibar.” I watch as she walks across the room naked. She really is a goddess—her full hips and round ass make me think of all the wicked things I want to do to her when she gets back over here.

  She brings a pair of beers and snuggles back into bed beside me. I clink my bottle against hers, and she snorts, taking a long pull of the amber liquid. “Not as good as mine,” she says.

  “Definitely not,” I tell her. “Why not sell your beer if your plant deal fell through?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not going into it with you right now. I’ll have my
certification and licensure soon enough. Then I’ll be back here in the Iron City.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you here,” I prod. “I’ll be around for a long time if my researchers predicted right. And they always do.”

  She looks at me sideways. “What’s your deal, anyway? You’re like a bank, basically?”

  “Not quite the same thing.”

  “My mother thinks you shit gold doubloons.” The things that fall out of this woman’s mouth never fail to surprise me, and I laugh in delight.

  “I’m glad. Maybe she’ll help me convince you to see me again.” And then I wince, noting the change in her demeanor. She stiffens and the light dims in her eyes.

  “I told you, this is just sex,” she says, swigging the rest of her beer. I can tell the magic has gone.

  Diana gets out of bed and starts dressing.

  “Hey,” I say, but I know it’s over and she’s not climbing back in. I think about my meeting today, and then I realize what’s been bugging me since I read Andrea’s file on Diana. Everyone in the room today was listed as an author on the research articles about their technology—the whole team was there to meet the investor. Diana’s name was all over all those research papers with Jay Buford, but her name never came up once in all his time partnering with Wexler Holdings.

  The mood is already spoiled for tonight, so I might as well press the issue. “Does Jay Buford have anything to do with your meeting today?”

  I’m not prepared for the fire in her eyes when she whips her head around. “What did you just say?”

  “Jay Buford owns the patent for that drug the FDA just approved for epilepsy. You were meeting with the chief of neurology today…”

  She starts rushing to dress, her hands shaking as she buttons her shirt. “I can’t believe you,” she mutters. “What, did you have your spies create a folder about me? You want my vaccination records, too?”