Mogul
Page 24
He’s gorgeous, yes, but he’s more than that. He let me dance for him and appeared to love it. He took me on my dream date to a show. He is kind to his grandmother and her dog. He’s a hard worker. I even admire the fact that he’s not making false promises just to get me in bed. I respect that. I respect him.
I sit up in bed groggily and push my hair from my face. “I hope you made the shower water very cold, Ford.”
“I hope you will remember how many hours you tortured me with that pretty little bum when I adjust our accounts.”
I laugh and lower my gaze to admire the rest of him. God, he’s even got great feet. His calves are muscular and strong, dusted with fine hair. The muscles all over his body are chiseled and hard like a granite sculpture. His abs are at my eye level as he plays with his phone.
“I’m ordering us breakfast. What’ll you have?”
“Breakfast in bed? For me?” I grin. When he only smiles and drags his eyes along my form on his bed, I add, “Just coffee.”
“Two espressos,” he says, typing up the order.
“No. No espresso. I can’t take espresso in the morning. It makes my stomach hurt. Just a regular with almond milk and a stevia packet. Please.”
He smiles and clicks to complete the order, then heads to the closet to get dressed.
“Your head hurt?” He drops the towel and slides into his boxers and slacks, and I blink at the sight of his muscular ass before he covers it.
“No,” I answer, meeting his gaze as he turns. “Does yours?” I let my eyes linger down to where his dick is covered.
He tsks and shakes his head as he grabs a clean shirt from the closet and starts buttoning it up, his gaze once again greedy as he drinks me in. “Get your lovely ass out of bed. I’ll get you something for that hangover.”
When he steps out of the closet, I sigh and lie back. I slept pretty well considering he was my only sheet.
I force myself out of bed and head to his bathroom to freshen up before I meet him down in the kitchen.
“I used your toothbrush; is that okay?” I wince apologetically. “I don’t know if you’re the sort of guy who gets upset if…”
“I wasn’t sure either.” He frowns as he considers his response. “No. It doesn’t upset me.” We spot the deliveryman by the window. “My wife got upset if I shared hers,” he adds before opening the front door, grabbing the bag and the coffee carrier and bringing them back to the kitchen.
He hands me two Excedrin, grabs one of the coffees, and slides it down the counter toward me.
I take it and blow off the steam. “I had a good time last night. Thanks for being a gentleman. I’m on three senses now, so we can talk,” I say, guzzling down the two pills.
He chuckles and takes a sip of coffee as I boost myself up on the counter. He walks up to me and I instinctively part my legs to make room for him. He’s hotter than the scalding coffee.
Our eyes lock, hold. “So you think you’d like to do this again?” He sets his coffee aside and meets my gaze. “We can take things slowly.” He watches me as he speaks, and I smirk happily. “You turn me on, Sara. Get me going.”
“I know,” I whisper saucily, trying to hide my excitement.
He continues, somber, eyes intent. “I have no feelings for my ex-wife, but I do need to legally wrap things up. Let’s have a period of fun with no commitments. Just so you know, I’m not dating anyone else. I’m enjoying my time with you. Let’s see where this takes us. What do you think?”
I’m flustered, and impressed, but trying to hide it as I tease him sardonically. “Did you practice that?”
“Maybe.” He sasses me back, taking my coffee from my grip and setting it aside. He gentles his voice.
“I asked you a question, Sara.”
I meet his gaze. “I’ll think about it.” I speak softly. “I never planned to get involved with someone who’s in the middle of a divorce. I need to be sure about what I’m getting into.”
“We can keep it casual. It’s best for both of us.” He tips my face up to look at him.
I smile and reach out to set my hand on his shoulder, the muscle tight under my palm. His entire frame tightens. His eyes darken.
I’m chasing my breaths when we look at each other’s lips.
He moves me closer.
He tilts my face back and draws it to his, and when a gasp leaves my lips, he bends his head and takes it, that gasp, that moan, tasting his toothpaste on my mouth.
“Think about it fast. We’ve been waiting long enough to test this out. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He looks intent as he eases back and I lick my lips. A sigh escapes me as I slide my hands behind his neck and raise my face for more. “Yummy motherfucker, what are you doing to me?” I breathe as he grabs the back of my head and takes the mouth I offer.
LAUNCH
Sara
Did I dream the hot kisses Ian gave me this morning? Did I dream his townhouse? Sleeping on a bare mattress on the floor? With my Suit wearing… well, practically, his suit?
I didn’t dream it. I lick my lips and that taste is definitely Ian. I sniff my clothes on the train ride to the House of Sass offices and that smell is Ian’s cologne.
Ian is all over me except on the one part that still aches for him. My sex.
Oh well.
Maybe he doesn’t know for sure that I’m interested. Maybe he believes that it was the wine talking last night. And oh yes, the wine talked quite a bit. I have a headache to prove it. But it wasn’t the wine—it was me talking. I wanted him. I still do.
But this is a guy going through some very intense legal proceedings, and having my parents just go through a horrible breakup, I’m not too keen to jump into stormy waters.
When I get home, I exhale in relief realizing Becka isn’t on the couch and the shower is running. She’s bathing, thank God.
Nobody will know I was out giving private dances to Mr. Ford. I creep into my room and rumple my bed. I don’t want to tell Bryn about what’s happening with Dirty Workaholic. I feel like she will be the voice of my conscience. And I don’t want her to tell me what I already know.
So I head out and pretend that I don’t have the hottest guy with the biggest dick waiting on the sidelines for me to casually date if I so choose. I pretend I don’t already know my answer.
I told him I had a busy week and would think about it, buying myself a bit of time, but I already crave to see him again. Bryn has gone on a couple of dates from the Match.com account Becka opened for her. If things are too messy with Ian, I can join her on there, I suppose.
But the thought makes my stomach cave in on itself. For months I haven’t been able to think of anyone but Ian. It’s hard to imagine anyone or anything being able to change that.
Let’s see if you can bear a few days without him, Sara. Maybe you’re stronger than you think and can step back and evaluate things, I tell myself that weekend as Bryn and I head to Brooklyn in an Uber, to the warehouse that will be formally House of Sass.
We arrive ready to work. Bryn looks like she means business, even though I heard her cry this morning, just like every other morning since the Big Breakup.
“You’ll get over him,” Jensen tells her when he comes in to help. He sees her bleary eyes and hugs her.
“Of course. I’m already getting hit up on Match.com.” Bryn tries to wave off her breakup as if it’s not important. “I’m such a good catch.”
I sit up in bed groggily and push my hair from my face. “I hope you made the shower water very cold, Ford.”
“I hope you will remember how many hours you tortured me with that pretty little bum when I adjust our accounts.”
I laugh and lower my gaze to admire the rest of him. God, he’s even got great feet. His calves are muscular and strong, dusted with fine hair. The muscles all over his body are chiseled and hard like a granite sculpture. His abs are at my eye level as he plays with his phone.
“I’m ordering us breakfast. What’ll you have?”
“Breakfast in bed? For me?” I grin. When he only smiles and drags his eyes along my form on his bed, I add, “Just coffee.”
“Two espressos,” he says, typing up the order.
“No. No espresso. I can’t take espresso in the morning. It makes my stomach hurt. Just a regular with almond milk and a stevia packet. Please.”
He smiles and clicks to complete the order, then heads to the closet to get dressed.
“Your head hurt?” He drops the towel and slides into his boxers and slacks, and I blink at the sight of his muscular ass before he covers it.
“No,” I answer, meeting his gaze as he turns. “Does yours?” I let my eyes linger down to where his dick is covered.
He tsks and shakes his head as he grabs a clean shirt from the closet and starts buttoning it up, his gaze once again greedy as he drinks me in. “Get your lovely ass out of bed. I’ll get you something for that hangover.”
When he steps out of the closet, I sigh and lie back. I slept pretty well considering he was my only sheet.
I force myself out of bed and head to his bathroom to freshen up before I meet him down in the kitchen.
“I used your toothbrush; is that okay?” I wince apologetically. “I don’t know if you’re the sort of guy who gets upset if…”
“I wasn’t sure either.” He frowns as he considers his response. “No. It doesn’t upset me.” We spot the deliveryman by the window. “My wife got upset if I shared hers,” he adds before opening the front door, grabbing the bag and the coffee carrier and bringing them back to the kitchen.
He hands me two Excedrin, grabs one of the coffees, and slides it down the counter toward me.
I take it and blow off the steam. “I had a good time last night. Thanks for being a gentleman. I’m on three senses now, so we can talk,” I say, guzzling down the two pills.
He chuckles and takes a sip of coffee as I boost myself up on the counter. He walks up to me and I instinctively part my legs to make room for him. He’s hotter than the scalding coffee.
Our eyes lock, hold. “So you think you’d like to do this again?” He sets his coffee aside and meets my gaze. “We can take things slowly.” He watches me as he speaks, and I smirk happily. “You turn me on, Sara. Get me going.”
“I know,” I whisper saucily, trying to hide my excitement.
He continues, somber, eyes intent. “I have no feelings for my ex-wife, but I do need to legally wrap things up. Let’s have a period of fun with no commitments. Just so you know, I’m not dating anyone else. I’m enjoying my time with you. Let’s see where this takes us. What do you think?”
I’m flustered, and impressed, but trying to hide it as I tease him sardonically. “Did you practice that?”
“Maybe.” He sasses me back, taking my coffee from my grip and setting it aside. He gentles his voice.
“I asked you a question, Sara.”
I meet his gaze. “I’ll think about it.” I speak softly. “I never planned to get involved with someone who’s in the middle of a divorce. I need to be sure about what I’m getting into.”
“We can keep it casual. It’s best for both of us.” He tips my face up to look at him.
I smile and reach out to set my hand on his shoulder, the muscle tight under my palm. His entire frame tightens. His eyes darken.
I’m chasing my breaths when we look at each other’s lips.
He moves me closer.
He tilts my face back and draws it to his, and when a gasp leaves my lips, he bends his head and takes it, that gasp, that moan, tasting his toothpaste on my mouth.
“Think about it fast. We’ve been waiting long enough to test this out. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He looks intent as he eases back and I lick my lips. A sigh escapes me as I slide my hands behind his neck and raise my face for more. “Yummy motherfucker, what are you doing to me?” I breathe as he grabs the back of my head and takes the mouth I offer.
LAUNCH
Sara
Did I dream the hot kisses Ian gave me this morning? Did I dream his townhouse? Sleeping on a bare mattress on the floor? With my Suit wearing… well, practically, his suit?
I didn’t dream it. I lick my lips and that taste is definitely Ian. I sniff my clothes on the train ride to the House of Sass offices and that smell is Ian’s cologne.
Ian is all over me except on the one part that still aches for him. My sex.
Oh well.
Maybe he doesn’t know for sure that I’m interested. Maybe he believes that it was the wine talking last night. And oh yes, the wine talked quite a bit. I have a headache to prove it. But it wasn’t the wine—it was me talking. I wanted him. I still do.
But this is a guy going through some very intense legal proceedings, and having my parents just go through a horrible breakup, I’m not too keen to jump into stormy waters.
When I get home, I exhale in relief realizing Becka isn’t on the couch and the shower is running. She’s bathing, thank God.
Nobody will know I was out giving private dances to Mr. Ford. I creep into my room and rumple my bed. I don’t want to tell Bryn about what’s happening with Dirty Workaholic. I feel like she will be the voice of my conscience. And I don’t want her to tell me what I already know.
So I head out and pretend that I don’t have the hottest guy with the biggest dick waiting on the sidelines for me to casually date if I so choose. I pretend I don’t already know my answer.
I told him I had a busy week and would think about it, buying myself a bit of time, but I already crave to see him again. Bryn has gone on a couple of dates from the Match.com account Becka opened for her. If things are too messy with Ian, I can join her on there, I suppose.
But the thought makes my stomach cave in on itself. For months I haven’t been able to think of anyone but Ian. It’s hard to imagine anyone or anything being able to change that.
Let’s see if you can bear a few days without him, Sara. Maybe you’re stronger than you think and can step back and evaluate things, I tell myself that weekend as Bryn and I head to Brooklyn in an Uber, to the warehouse that will be formally House of Sass.
We arrive ready to work. Bryn looks like she means business, even though I heard her cry this morning, just like every other morning since the Big Breakup.
“You’ll get over him,” Jensen tells her when he comes in to help. He sees her bleary eyes and hugs her.
“Of course. I’m already getting hit up on Match.com.” Bryn tries to wave off her breakup as if it’s not important. “I’m such a good catch.”
