Box Set: My Alpha Billionaire

By: Tawny Taylor

A sexy New Adult romance

(What He Wants: Books 1-4)


SAMPLE:

He growled, hooked an arm around my waist and whirled around so I was flat against the wall and his body was holding me there.

Oh. My. God. His mouth descended upon mine, his tongue shoved its way in, and within seconds, I was writhing against him while he kissed me into a coma.

I felt him scoop me up into his arms. He was carrying me, walking, while our tongues mated and battled. I was losing the war, ready to surrender to him, to the fierce heat boiling in my veins, to the blinding need he'd sparked in my body. He broke the kiss, stared down at me with eyes full of male hunger. "I'm sorry, Bristol. I can't let you go now. I can't."

We kissed again, and again, as he carried me into the dungeon. At some point he set me on my feet, but I was too shaky to stand, and I wasn't about to let him stop kissing me. I hung onto his neck, arms wrapped tightly, and lost myself in his aggressive, demanding, plundering kiss.

I'd been kissed plenty of times, but never like that.

Never like the man couldn't get enough.

Never like he was staking a claim.

Never like he was conquering me.

When the kiss ended--not my choice--I clung to him and fought to catch my breath.

"Wow," I murmured. My gaze started at his mouth but quickly moved to the closest piece of torture furniture. I felt myself backing up.

"You've never been in a dungeon, correct?" he asked, hands sliding down my sides.

"Never."

He blocked my exit with his hulking body, held me at the hips. "If I do something you don't like, say, Red."

"Red?" I echoed, trying to wiggle my way free. I wasn't ready for this. That kiss. It was the kiss's fault I was in here. I didn't belong here, no.

He cut me off completely, cornering me against another wall, his body a giant obstacle I couldn't push past. He caged my head between his hands, arms stretched out. His eyes were dark, hard. "You may beg me to stop, but I won't. You may plead with me and cry, but I won't stop. But if you say red, I will cease immediately."

"Red," I muttered.

His fingertip trailed down the side of my face, down my jaw, my throat to the center of my breastbone. I sucked in a deep breath and fought to regain my composure. But he was so big and so sexy and so intimidating, I couldn't speak. "I promise I won't be too hard on you this first time." He closed his hands around my waist, forcing me deeper into the room.





What He Wants


(My Alpha Billionaire, Book 1)





Chapter 1




“I’m sorry, but I just locked the house up.” I said to the handsome man who’d just come strolling up my mother’s front walk. Selling the house had been an absolute nightmare. Not just because the building brought so many memories to the surface, but also because it wasn’t in the best of shape. It was a great house in a wonderful neighborhood. If only I could get just one person to see past all the ugly linoleum, godawful paneling, and circa 70’s shag carpet.

Twisting to look over my shoulder, I shot the man--who happened to be well dressed and gorgeous--a quick smile. “But if you give me a minute, I’ll make a quick phone call and then let you in.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” His voice was a low, rich rumble. For some reason, it resonated through my body, and the feeling of familiarity sparked inside me. Did I know this man?

Once I had the lock engaged, I click-clacked out to my car, my pinched toes probably blistered, and flounced into the driver’s seat. I dug my phone out of my purse, and studied the strange man who didn’t seem to be a stranger as I called my best friend Jill to let her know I’d be a little late meeting her for lunch.

Was the man another real estate agent, looking to list the house? Could be. His clothes were impeccable.

A brief conversation--primarily ample apologies--and I had an extra forty-five minutes to not only figure out where I’d met the man before but also how to convince him to buy the house instead of sell it for me. I was getting seriously strapped, paying the mortgage, utilities and property taxes on the place, in addition to my condo. Because of this silly need to cling to my childhood, I’d put off selling the place as long as I could. It was time to make something happen and move on.

Determined I’d found the buyer for my mom’s place, I pasted on my best smile, fluffed my hair and headed back up to the front porch. As I unlocked the door, I said, “This house is a wonderful investment. It’s in a great location, on a dead end street. The neighborhood is excellent, a great place to raise a family.”

“Hmmm.” The man walked inside. He moved with a rare fluidity for a male. I watched him as he wandered through the rooms on the first floor. Living room. Dining room. Kitchen (that was in dire need of a full gut job). The longer I studied him, the more I felt I knew him. Trying to concentrate on the house, I pointed out the beautiful, original hardwood floors, the baseboards and window and door trims, the lovely hand-carved handrail.

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