Playing Dirty (Billionaire Playboys #1) Read Online Tory Baker

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Billionaire Playboys Series by Tory Baker
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Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
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“No, sweetheart. It seems the man who never gets sick is now feeling it today.” I wince, knowing the woman on the other end of the line is going to blame herself. She takes a deep breath of air. “Don’t, Vanessa. This is no one’s fault but my own. You warned me, but nothing would have kept me away while you were sick. I’d do it all over again, okay?” I move until I’m on the couch, hoping the grocery delivery will actually be early for once. Sure, I only placed the order thirty minutes ago, but I also paid for expedited shopping and delivery.

“Damn it, Parker. I told you to stay away.”

“I very rarely do what’s expected of me,” I reply. There’s a reason I’m where I am today. It wasn’t from giving in or giving up.

“Well, then, it’s your turn to give me your address, and I’ll come take care of you. I mean, it is only fair. Plus, it’s not like I can get what is technically still in my system.” Vanessa isn’t backing down, not that I mind the fact that she’s willing to use her days off to spend playing nursemaid.

“I’ll text it now.” All the while, I’m looking down at my cock. The fucker is hard as a rock at the thought of Vanessa taking care of me, knowing that if I have my way, she’ll be in my bed tonight, my hands on her skin again, her ass cushioning my cock.

“Good. I’m glad you see things my way. I’m gathering the necessities now, and then I’ll be on my way.” I’d offer to order her a car. She won’t accept it, though. Thankfully, I’m not near as bad as she felt. The fever is a bitch, but the sore throat and body aches are more of an annoyance than anything.

“See you soon,” I respond, ready to close my eyes for a moment.

“Less than an hour, and I’ll be there. Keep your phone on you in case, okay?”

“Alright.” We hang up. My head meets the back of the couch, needing to sleep even though I got a full night of rest.

FOURTEEN

Nessa

“Parker, can you hear me?” I made it in record time. I caught a taxi right when I was leaving my building, bags loaded down with medicine, a change of clothes, toothbrush, and the leftover food he was feeding me. I figure if need be, I’ll scrounge around his place to make something else. The toothbrush was a definite to pack. I had a spare at my place, but who knows if he does. That leads me to the here and now, standing on the stoop of his brownstone. It’s freaking beautiful, nothing like what I was expecting for a billionaire bachelor. I almost took a second glance at the address he texted me, when I gave the taxi driver the address. Even he let out a low whistle. Yes, my parents have money; they live less than three blocks away from Parker’s place. That still didn’t mean I was immune to the wealth. Humble, that’s exactly what I am. While other adults my age from some of the same social circles are living off their trusts, riding the coattails of their parents, I could never. Not only that, my parents also wouldn’t allow it.

“Parker!” I knock and ring the doorbell one last time, ready to put down the bags I brought plus the ones the delivery driver was dropping off when I got there, in order to call his phone in case he fell asleep, when the door opens.

“You’re going to wake up the dead with all that beating on my door, babe.” My jaw drops. One, Parker stands before me in nothing except for another pair of sweats, this time in black. Two, he called me babe. What has me slack-jawed is that he’s missing one important piece of clothing: a shirt. There, in all his glory, he stands shirtless. My eyes sweep back to his face, taking in everything that is Parker Hudson, hair a tousled jet-black mess, more beard than a five-o’clock shadow, tiredness written all over his face, meaning I for sure woke him up. Why couldn’t his house have an access code like mine does? It would have been easier on him. Now, I’m standing here, taking in the chiseled muscled display, the smattering of hair along his chest, and the deep V in his lower abdomen, attempting not to drool.

“Full hands. Clearly, you were sleeping. I’d apologize, but it’s kind of hard to get inside when you don’t have a key or a lock that has a code.” He backs up, one hand on the handle, the other grabbing the bags that are loading me down on one side more than the other.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but after I made a few phone calls, my energy was zapped. I’ll get you a key. There’s a spare in the kitchen. Codes can get hacked. Not thrilled about the possibility of unwanted visitors inside my space.” I step inside the doorway, head tilted to the side. Parker is standing there waiting until I’m out of the way so he can close the door. Meanwhile, I’m wondering if this is real life.


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