His Runaway Princess: Bound By The Tycoon

Audrey Hebert twisted the tangled, sweat-soaked bedsheets in her hands.

The cramped Los Angeles apartment was suffocatingly hot, the broken window unit doing nothing to fight the heavy morning heat. A thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead, making her dark hair stick to her skin. Her subconscious was fighting a losing battle.

"Audrey."

A deep, gravelly male voice whispered her name in the dark corners of her dream.

A violent shiver ripped down her spine. Her back arched involuntarily off the cheap mattress.

Large, calloused hands gripped her waist. The phantom pressure felt so intensely real, so heavy and demanding, that she gasped aloud in the empty, silent room. Her chest heaved. The air felt too thick to breathe.

The man in the shadows leaned in. She felt the ghost of his hot breath against her neck, right over her racing pulse. He bit down gently on her collarbone.

The sensory overload was absolute. Audrey gripped the soft, lumpy pillow tightly, her knuckles turning white. Her breathing turned ragged, tearing through her throat.

She tried to push the heavy figure away. She raised her hands in the dream, but her wrists were easily, effortlessly pinned above her head. The grip was like an iron vise. She was completely defenseless, pinned to the mattress by a weight she knew intimately.

The man smirked. She couldn't see his face clearly, but she felt the rough pad of his thumb grazing her lower lip, pressing down just enough to part them.

A pathetic, needy whimper forced its way out of her throat, echoing loudly in the quiet bedroom.

The sudden, shrill ringing of an iPhone shattered the heavy silence.

The sound acted like a bucket of ice water. It yanked her violently out of the deep, erotic sleep.

Audrey jolted upright in bed. Her chest heaved heavily, drawing in greedy gulps of the stale apartment air. She stared wildly at the peeling floral wallpaper, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Reality crashed down on her, cold and unforgiving.

It was just a dream. A dream about Zane Kensington. Again.

A massive wave of shame and frustration washed over her, making her stomach churn. Five years. It had been five years, and her body still betrayed her like this.

Wiping the cold sweat from her forehead with a trembling hand, she reached for the vibrating device on the cheap, scratched nightstand.

She saw Mila Foster's name flashing across the screen, a single, jagged crack running down its center.

Audrey took a deep, shaky breath, forcing her lungs to steady. She cleared her throat to mask her raspy voice before swiping the green button to answer.

"Morning, gorgeous!" Mila screamed through the speaker, her energetic voice piercing the quiet room.

Audrey quickly pulled the phone away from her sensitive ear, wincing.

"Hey, Mila," Audrey replied softly. She tried to hide her erratic heartbeat, but her voice still carried a breathless, husky edge.

Mila immediately caught the tone. There was a sharp pause on the other end.

"Hold on," Mila said, her voice dropping into a teasing register. "Do you have a man hidden under those covers? You sound like you just ran a marathon. Or rode one."

Audrey's face flushed a deep, guilty crimson. The heat rushed to her cheeks, burning her skin.

"No! Absolutely not," Audrey stammered harshly. She gripped the thin blanket tightly, pulling it up to her chest as if Mila could see her through the phone. She was terrified that her best friend might discover her pathetic, lingering feelings for a man who belonged in her past.

Mila laughed off the denial, the sound loud and unapologetic. "Babe, a five-year dry spell is a crime against humanity. Your body is probably forgetting what to do."

Audrey rolled her eyes, her bare feet shifting on the sheets. She needed to change the subject before Mila dug any deeper.

"Julian's flight lands in two hours," Audrey said quickly, hoping to distract Mila with the news of her brother's arrival. "I need to get ready to pick him up."

Mila ignored the bait completely.

"I'm sending a care package to your apartment," Mila insisted aggressively. "My company just launched a new line of adult toys. Top tier silicone. You need it, Audrey. Trust me."

Audrey panicked. Her stomach dropped. "No! Mila, do not send that here."

"Why not?"

"I live in a sketchy building," Audrey argued loudly, her voice rising. "Packages get stolen from the lobby all the time. I do not want my creepy neighbor opening a box of vibrators with my name on it."

"Relax," Mila stated confidently. "I already paid for premium discreet delivery. It comes in a plain brown box. You won't even know what it is until you open it. You're welcome."

Audrey was completely cornered. She couldn't decline a package that was already in transit.

She groaned in defeat, rubbing her temples with her free hand. She felt a sharp headache forming right behind her eyes from Mila's relentless, boundary-pushing friendship.

"I have to go," Mila said cheerfully. "Have fun with Julian. And have fun with the box tonight!"

Mila hung up the phone. The abrupt silence left Audrey staring at the dark screen in utter disbelief.

Audrey tossed the phone onto the mattress. She buried her hot face in her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying desperately to banish Zane's lingering ghost from her mind. The phantom heat of his touch still burned on her waist.

She pushed the heavy blankets aside. Her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor. The chill seeped through her soles, finally grounding her back in reality.

Audrey walked over to the small, cracked mirror hanging above her dresser. She stared at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark hair was a messy nest, and her eyes looked wide and vulnerable. She hated how much Zane still affected her physiology.

She turned on the cold tap in the tiny adjoining bathroom. She cupped her hands, splashing freezing water directly onto her face. The shock of the cold water made her gasp, but it washed away the shameful vulnerability.

Grabbing a rough, cheap towel, she dried her skin vigorously until it turned slightly pink. She looked at the digital clock on the counter. She needed to leave for LAX soon to pick up Julian.

She walked to her small, cramped closet. She bypassed the few nice dresses she owned and pulled out a simple, oversized gray college hoodie. She pulled it over her head, letting the thick fabric hide her figure completely. She wanted to feel safe. She wanted to be invisible.

Audrey grabbed her worn-out car keys from the kitchen counter. She double-checked her flight tracking app on her phone to ensure Julian's plane from London was still on time.

She stepped out of the apartment, locking the flimsy wooden door behind her. She walked out into the bright, blinding Los Angeles morning, completely unaware of the impending collision with her past.