Mogul
Page 26
When the last guest leaves and Jensen bids us good night, Christos closes shop. “Do you want a ride?” he asks us.
We both shake our heads. “No, thanks, and we don’t want you near Bryn, either.” I smile acidly and walk away, aware of him laughing sardonically, almost sounding frustrated, behind us.
We’re not yet around the curb when we see him hop into a black car. “Where’s he going in such a rush?” Becka asks.
“I don’t know.” I sigh.
“I can’t feel my toes. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re drunk, momma,” I tell her fondly, and she giggles.
I groan and tell her how much I want a nice, hot bath when we get home as I drag her to the train. Thinking of baths makes me think of Ian, and I let myself fantasize about taking a bath with him someday. I begin to ache.
The look Christos had when he mentioned Bryn pops back in my head, and suddenly I’m aching in places other than between my legs.
Why does that look make me think of Ian?
Why do I see him in every man, even when I’m out in the streets? As if there’s only one guy in the world and parts of him are walking around all over the place. But only one man has all those Ian Ford parts, and that’s Ian Ford himself.
Sigh.
I like him. He was such a gentleman when I got drunk at his place. He spooned me and warmed me with his body. He’d been really hard—I felt it even through my drunkenness—but he never left my side and never overstepped. He’s a little alpha, but damn it, doesn’t that hit all my buttons too?
He sparks my sparks, all of them. Damn him.
When we reach our apartment, I open the door, kick off my heels, and stare around in confusion along with Becka.
“Where’s Bryn?” we both ask the empty apartment.
As if in response to our question, my phone rings. “I’m with Christos,” Bryn says. “I didn’t want you two to worry. Thanks for staying until the end. It was a long… crazy night.”
“We were happy to do it. But are you all right?” I ask.
“We’re back together.” She sounds like she’s been crying, but I can hear the happiness in her voice.
I almost stumble back from the unexpectedness of it. Becka stops massaging her feet and blinks at me when she notices the expression on my face.
“Bryn, I’m so happy for you!” I burst out.
“Tell Becka. I’ll stop by a little later to pick up some stuff, but if I don’t see you then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“She’s back with Christos,” I inform Becka when I hang up.
Becka’s eyes go wide and we celebrate by diving into chocolates.
After a piece too many, I push them away. “Okay, no more chocolates. I want my Dirty Workaholic to still get hard when he looks at me.”
I toss the wrappings aside and curl up on the couch while Becka hops onto Bryn’s Match.com account.
“Does this mean I should delete this thing?”
I shrug. “I don’t think a guy like Christos will want his girlfriend’s profile up on a dating site.”
Becka laughs as she clicks the few buttons to cancel Bryn’s account. “All right, that’s done. I’m going to sleep now. Good night,” she says, and she heads to bed while I remain restless on the couch.
After several minutes of tossing and turning, I pull myself up and drag myself to bed too. I lie down under the covers and close my eyes, but guess whose dark, fathomless eyes I see when I close mine.
Guess who causes my body to tingle, remembering his touch.
Guess who still—even now that I know his name and a whole lot more about him—makes me want him more and more.
I type out a text:
What are you doing? Do you still want to see me?
I pause and reread my message, biting my lower lip.
Shaking my head, I erase my text, power off my phone, and connect it to my charger. It was a crazy night. I need my head on straight before I get carried away like I usually do with my Dirty Workaholic.
CAUTIOUSLY
Sara
I tossed and turned all night. Now it’s very early for me to be up on a Saturday, and I peer through my eyelids, watching the sunlight pouring in through my blinds. I squeeze my eyes shut and flip to my other side. Thinking of Ian and wanting to kiss his gorgeous lips again. Of course my Hot Workaholic merits a full day of lying in bed dreaming about him. Wondering if he meant everything he said. If he’s as obsessed with our connection as I am. If maybe we can one day have something that’s more than casual.
I promised him I’d think about it.
I have done nothing but think about it.
And I think my decision will come as no surprise.
I push myself out of the bed and pad into the kitchen, surprised to find Becka all packed and ready to go.
“You’re leaving? You just got here!” I say.
“I know, but…” She rubs her temples with her fingertips. “I need to have an adventure. I need to go out there and experience the city or I’ll never find what I need in order to finish this book.” She sighs as Bryn walks in.
We both gape at her.
“When did you get here?” I ask.
“A little while ago. I’ve got news. Coffee first.”
We have coffee and breakfast while Bryn tells us what happened last night, where Christos caught up with her, what he told her, and her eyes glaze with love and happiness as she relates the details to us. When she finishes and we hug her, she asks what we’ve been up to. While Becka groans about flying back home while hungover, I’m unnaturally silent. I don’t want to tell Bryn what’s been happening with Ian. I feel like she’ll be my voice of conscience, and I don’t need that right now. She’ll worry about his situation and me getting hurt, and I’m already doing that for the both of us.
After breakfast and while Bryn checks all the House of Sass orders on her computer, I head to my phone and scan my contacts. I just can’t help that my stomach jumps when I read his name. I stare at it with a pounding heart. Fucking Ian Ford. My greedy pussy even ripples at the sight of his name! Ugh. I exhale and send out a rather long, detailed text. I’m such a horny little slut.
I reread what I sent and nod. Yep. A slut. Though I’m not too sad about it and I’m pretty sure Ford might even approve of it. I hurry to change, already anticipating his answer.
I want your dick in my mouth. I ALSO want it in my hands. But first I want you inside me.
Ian Ford: I’m open for business.
He sends me his office address in Tribeca.
Half an hour later, I’m entering a building made of all glass and a lobby made of all marble. I ask for him at reception and am indicated he’s on the thirtieth floor. At the elevator, I realize it’s the top floor. I smooth my hands down my cashmere sweater dress. I’m wearing heels and no bra and all the confidence of a woman determined to seduce a man.
I let out a deep exhale when the elevator stops and opens and begin walking down the executive floor. I realize, rather shockingly, that his office is the one at the end. The one with the big frosted-glass door.
“Um. I’m here to see Ian.” I approach the woman behind a large Carrara marble desk. “Mr. Ford, I mean.”
“He’s expecting you.” She rings me in and stands to show the way to his door. When she pushes it open, I slide nervously inside. My heart drums wildly as our eyes meet.
He’s behind a desk, with a huge Mac computer on one side and a whole lot of papers on the other. His office is gargantuan, comprised of all glass walls except for the one behind his desk.
We both shake our heads. “No, thanks, and we don’t want you near Bryn, either.” I smile acidly and walk away, aware of him laughing sardonically, almost sounding frustrated, behind us.
We’re not yet around the curb when we see him hop into a black car. “Where’s he going in such a rush?” Becka asks.
“I don’t know.” I sigh.
“I can’t feel my toes. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re drunk, momma,” I tell her fondly, and she giggles.
I groan and tell her how much I want a nice, hot bath when we get home as I drag her to the train. Thinking of baths makes me think of Ian, and I let myself fantasize about taking a bath with him someday. I begin to ache.
The look Christos had when he mentioned Bryn pops back in my head, and suddenly I’m aching in places other than between my legs.
Why does that look make me think of Ian?
Why do I see him in every man, even when I’m out in the streets? As if there’s only one guy in the world and parts of him are walking around all over the place. But only one man has all those Ian Ford parts, and that’s Ian Ford himself.
Sigh.
I like him. He was such a gentleman when I got drunk at his place. He spooned me and warmed me with his body. He’d been really hard—I felt it even through my drunkenness—but he never left my side and never overstepped. He’s a little alpha, but damn it, doesn’t that hit all my buttons too?
He sparks my sparks, all of them. Damn him.
When we reach our apartment, I open the door, kick off my heels, and stare around in confusion along with Becka.
“Where’s Bryn?” we both ask the empty apartment.
As if in response to our question, my phone rings. “I’m with Christos,” Bryn says. “I didn’t want you two to worry. Thanks for staying until the end. It was a long… crazy night.”
“We were happy to do it. But are you all right?” I ask.
“We’re back together.” She sounds like she’s been crying, but I can hear the happiness in her voice.
I almost stumble back from the unexpectedness of it. Becka stops massaging her feet and blinks at me when she notices the expression on my face.
“Bryn, I’m so happy for you!” I burst out.
“Tell Becka. I’ll stop by a little later to pick up some stuff, but if I don’t see you then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“She’s back with Christos,” I inform Becka when I hang up.
Becka’s eyes go wide and we celebrate by diving into chocolates.
After a piece too many, I push them away. “Okay, no more chocolates. I want my Dirty Workaholic to still get hard when he looks at me.”
I toss the wrappings aside and curl up on the couch while Becka hops onto Bryn’s Match.com account.
“Does this mean I should delete this thing?”
I shrug. “I don’t think a guy like Christos will want his girlfriend’s profile up on a dating site.”
Becka laughs as she clicks the few buttons to cancel Bryn’s account. “All right, that’s done. I’m going to sleep now. Good night,” she says, and she heads to bed while I remain restless on the couch.
After several minutes of tossing and turning, I pull myself up and drag myself to bed too. I lie down under the covers and close my eyes, but guess whose dark, fathomless eyes I see when I close mine.
Guess who causes my body to tingle, remembering his touch.
Guess who still—even now that I know his name and a whole lot more about him—makes me want him more and more.
I type out a text:
What are you doing? Do you still want to see me?
I pause and reread my message, biting my lower lip.
Shaking my head, I erase my text, power off my phone, and connect it to my charger. It was a crazy night. I need my head on straight before I get carried away like I usually do with my Dirty Workaholic.
CAUTIOUSLY
Sara
I tossed and turned all night. Now it’s very early for me to be up on a Saturday, and I peer through my eyelids, watching the sunlight pouring in through my blinds. I squeeze my eyes shut and flip to my other side. Thinking of Ian and wanting to kiss his gorgeous lips again. Of course my Hot Workaholic merits a full day of lying in bed dreaming about him. Wondering if he meant everything he said. If he’s as obsessed with our connection as I am. If maybe we can one day have something that’s more than casual.
I promised him I’d think about it.
I have done nothing but think about it.
And I think my decision will come as no surprise.
I push myself out of the bed and pad into the kitchen, surprised to find Becka all packed and ready to go.
“You’re leaving? You just got here!” I say.
“I know, but…” She rubs her temples with her fingertips. “I need to have an adventure. I need to go out there and experience the city or I’ll never find what I need in order to finish this book.” She sighs as Bryn walks in.
We both gape at her.
“When did you get here?” I ask.
“A little while ago. I’ve got news. Coffee first.”
We have coffee and breakfast while Bryn tells us what happened last night, where Christos caught up with her, what he told her, and her eyes glaze with love and happiness as she relates the details to us. When she finishes and we hug her, she asks what we’ve been up to. While Becka groans about flying back home while hungover, I’m unnaturally silent. I don’t want to tell Bryn what’s been happening with Ian. I feel like she’ll be my voice of conscience, and I don’t need that right now. She’ll worry about his situation and me getting hurt, and I’m already doing that for the both of us.
After breakfast and while Bryn checks all the House of Sass orders on her computer, I head to my phone and scan my contacts. I just can’t help that my stomach jumps when I read his name. I stare at it with a pounding heart. Fucking Ian Ford. My greedy pussy even ripples at the sight of his name! Ugh. I exhale and send out a rather long, detailed text. I’m such a horny little slut.
I reread what I sent and nod. Yep. A slut. Though I’m not too sad about it and I’m pretty sure Ford might even approve of it. I hurry to change, already anticipating his answer.
I want your dick in my mouth. I ALSO want it in my hands. But first I want you inside me.
Ian Ford: I’m open for business.
He sends me his office address in Tribeca.
Half an hour later, I’m entering a building made of all glass and a lobby made of all marble. I ask for him at reception and am indicated he’s on the thirtieth floor. At the elevator, I realize it’s the top floor. I smooth my hands down my cashmere sweater dress. I’m wearing heels and no bra and all the confidence of a woman determined to seduce a man.
I let out a deep exhale when the elevator stops and opens and begin walking down the executive floor. I realize, rather shockingly, that his office is the one at the end. The one with the big frosted-glass door.
“Um. I’m here to see Ian.” I approach the woman behind a large Carrara marble desk. “Mr. Ford, I mean.”
“He’s expecting you.” She rings me in and stands to show the way to his door. When she pushes it open, I slide nervously inside. My heart drums wildly as our eyes meet.
He’s behind a desk, with a huge Mac computer on one side and a whole lot of papers on the other. His office is gargantuan, comprised of all glass walls except for the one behind his desk.
