Controlled By The Billionaire

She was fast asleep, her silky brown hair fanned out on the pillow. His chest ached and he took a deep breath, holding it for ten counts and releasing. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way about her. He was supposed to let her go when her album was over. Releasing another breath, Tristan pulled his silk pajama pants on and stepped from the room, closing the door behind him.

He padded down the hall, down the stairs and around the corner to his study. It was time to be alone for a while, to regroup. Cracking his neck from side to side to release tension, Tristan sat in his leather desk chair, sinking into the plush cushion. He leaned his head back on the seat and counted to ten again. It was no use; he couldn’t get her face out of his head. But it wasn’t just her face, it was everything about her. Her hair, her petite little body and how when he was inside of her he felt like she was made for him, her smell and those dark brown eyes that seemed to look right into her soul. She was beautiful, talented and kind. What the hell did she want with him?

Running a hand over his face, his five o’clock shadow scratching over his hand, Tristan stood, walking to his side board to get a drink. He lifted a bottle of amber colored liquid, the best brandy he had ever tasted, and splashed it into a tumbler. Tossing it back, the burn in his throat momentarily clearing his head, Tristan knew he would have to resort to other measures, besides alcohol and mediation, to rid himself of the urge to be with Mel. But should he go that far? Keeping his sanity was more important than being with a woman he could fall in love with.

*****

Mel woke in a dark room, confused and disoriented. Where was she? It didn’t feel like she was in her bed. And it smelled like men’s cologne. Memory returned quickly, and flashbacks of Tristan and his beautiful body looming over her as plunged inside of her again and again came back with full force. Mel blushed, heat filling not only her face but flooding the area between her legs. She would never get enough of him. He was handsome, sexy and underneath that dark veneer appeared to be kind and playful. Mel wanted to see what was under his shell, help him to break down the wall he constructed around himself to reveal who he really was. But how? The better question was why? How did Tristan get so guarded? So jaded? Mel was wary of others, and didn’t open up easily; it was hard to be an open book with a dark past. But she tried for those who truly cared about her, like Blake. Tristan didn’t seem to have anyone who cared about him and Mel wondered why.

Turning over, Mel felt the bed next to her to see if Tristan was still there. The bed was empty and the sheets cold. Frowning, she stood, searching for a light switch in the dark. Fumbling around in the dark, and hitting her shin more than once, Mel finally found a lamp on the opposite side of the bed. Clicking it on she blinked, the sudden change in light blinding her for a moment. The wall clock on the other side of the room said it was after two in the morning. Where could Tristan be at this time of night? Unable to locate her clothes but finding Tristan’s discarded dress shirt abandoned on a chair, Mel pulled it on. It was just long enough to cover what needed to be covered, so she ventured out of the room, hoping she didn’t get lost in the massive house. She slowly made her way down the long corridor until she reached the stairs. Now came the decision part. Did she search upstairs or downstairs? Feeling more confident that she wouldn’t get lost downstairs, Mel padded down the steps with care, unsure if she would run into a maid or a butler of some sort and embarrass herself by being dressed only in Tristan’s shirt.

When she didn’t encounter another person in the semi dark house as she pushed opened the door to the kitchen, Mel got spooked. Wandering around in houses gave her the creeps and reminded her of the creepy foster family she lived with before Blake’s. Second thoughts flashed through her mind and while she was standing in the kitchen she contemplated going back to Tristan’s room and waiting for him there. Then her stomach growled. That was when Mel remembered that she hadn’t eaten since lunch and decided to rummage around for a snack, hoping Tristan didn’t mind. Mel opened the fridge, located a bottle of water and slammed it closed. Movement from the corner of her eye startled her and she screamed, dropping the water and spilling it everywhere.

“What are you doing?” Tristan asked with alarm, a not too pleasant look on his face.

Sh*t, she should have waited in his room. Mel was never good at reading people, but Tristan was even harder to read than most people because his emotions were always closed off. She watched him for a moment before she spoke, his bare chest rising and falling as he breathed, the large expanse covered in solid muscle. He was beautiful and Mel couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

“I was, um, hungry. I’m sorry. I’ll clean this up.” She finally spoke, snagging several paper towels from a roll on the counter, and bending to mop it up.

Tristan didn’t speak, but she could feel him moving closer, her back heating up as he crouched on the floor next to her.

“Leave it. Let’s go back upstairs.” Mel turned to look at him, realizing that the shirt had ridden up to her waist as she bent to clean the floor.

A blush crept over her face as she realized he must have had a show as soon as she bent down. The look on his face told her that was the case and he liked it. Lust was gleaming in his icy eyes and Mel felt her body begin to quicken with desire. Before she could move, he had her over his shoulder, fireman style, and was carrying her up to his room.

Mel had never felt so much longing for another person. With Tristan she felt like she belonged, even when he was scowling at her or looking at her coldly. That was the moment she knew, that no matter how much she second guessed this decision, she could never walk away from him. She needed him as much as he needed her.