Billionaire Undone(53)

He waited as she let herself into the office, his cock hardening as he viewed the innocent-looking dress that was, in reality, a cock torture device. It hugged her body in all the right places, and dammit…it was way too short. Had that really been one of the outfits he’d purchased for her? He hated it. No…he actually loved it, but he didn’t want another man seeing her shapely body in the garment. And he sure as hell didn’t want anybody else to see what she was wearing underneath. It was white, for Christ’s sake. But Travis had just decided that white underwear with cute pink bows was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Maybe it was speaking to his caveman: the virginal, sweet color making him want to drag Ally off and corrupt her as soon as possible.

Ally seated herself in front of his desk, a cup of coffee in her hand. She’d fixed her hair, and she looked every inch a prim, composed assistant. Hell…even that made him crazy.

“You wanted me, Mr. Harrison?” she asked politely.

Yeah. He wanted her all right. But nobody would ever know that the woman sitting in front of him had a few minutes ago been a sexual goddess on her knees, sucking his cock until his head had nearly blown off. He cleared his throat and asked, “What just happened here this morning, Alison?”

“Did I ever tell you that I hate the name Alison? My mother used to call me that, and I don’t like being called by that name, which is why I prefer people to call me Ally,” she answered in a calm, informative voice. “And as far as what happened? I believe that you stomped into the office without saying a word. I then brought you your coffee…which I almost never do. Then I tied my obstinate billionaire boss from Hell to his chair and proceeded to give him a blow job until he had an orgasm. I think I did something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time, making my fantasies of touching you any way I wanted come true. Does that sound correct?” she asked him pertly. “Oh, then I gave him back the tie that he left at my house after using it to give me multiple orgasms,” she added casually and took a sip from her mug, raising a questioning brow at him.

Travis nearly choked on the last of his coffee. “What the hell has gotten into you?” Travis asked, squirming in his chair from hearing Ally bluntly recounting the morning.

“Nothing got into me. I gave you a blow job, but you never really got into me.”

Holy Christ! She was trying to make him crazy. He knew she was. “I’ll never call you by your full name again if you hate it. You should have told me.” He paused before asking, “Do you remember what I told you when I left to help Kade? Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you,” she affirmed.

“Why are you still here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I work here.” She sat her coffee on the desk and put her hands on the surface of the wood, giving him a stubborn glare. “I assume that what you meant that night is that you had a precognitive dream about your parents, and you ignored it, thinking it was just a nightmare. Therefore, you blame yourself because you didn’t stop what happened. You did not kill your parents, Travis. Your father killed your mother and then himself. He was mentally ill. It’s time for you to stop torturing yourself because you didn’t know the dream would really come true. It was not your fault.”

Travis gaped at Ally, her fierceness stunning him. Her gaze was wild and ferocious, and protective as hell. And all that strong protectiveness was centered on him. “It was the first time it happened,” he admitted. “I hate myself for not saving my mother. If I had just paid attention—”

“You. Didn’t. Know.” Ally emphasized every word. “What else happened after that?”

Travis looked at her, surprised. “It doesn’t happen very often. And sometimes I still don’t believe it, but I act on it if I dream of someone dying or getting hurt. Precognition isn’t accepted in mainstream science. It isn’t supposed to happen. There’s no proof that it even exists.”

“And there’s no proof that it doesn’t,” Ally shot back at him.

“You believe in it?”

Ally sat slowly back down in her chair. “You told me once that I was pragmatic on the surface and a dreamer inside. I write fantasy because I believe anything is possible, that there are still so many things in this world that we can’t explain. So I try very hard not to discount anything. I don’t not believe in a lot of things. Things like precognition can’t be proved or disproved.” She sighed and gave him an earnest look. “But I can tell you that I absolutely believe in you. Tell me about it, Travis. Please.”