Mogul
Page 29
Her breathing hitches as her gaze clears, her breaths becoming more rapid as we lock gazes.
I run my eyes along her lips, drinking in the way she smiles at me from my bed. That adorably innocent smile and those harmless honeyed eyes pack a punch. Fuck, it’s hard to breathe at all.
“Good morning,” I say.
She sits up and pulls the sheets around her. I run my eyes over her smiling lips again, addicted to the sight.
“Good morning.” Her voice is raw with sleep and confusion.
Hell, I’m just as raw and just as confused by all of this.
This is casual. I’m still married—not that it’ll be for long. But still.
“I’ll take care of breakfast.” I jerk my chin toward the hallway leading downstairs.
She nibbles her lip, her eyes gleaming in amusement. “Coffee, too?”
“Espresso.” I’m teasing her.
She winces and watches me dress in plain gray boxers, black slacks, and a crisp white shirt. I zip up, button up, and grab my phone from the nightstand.
“I don’t take—”
“Espresso. I remember.” I smile at her, and she comes out from under the sheets. I watch her eyes widen when she realizes she’s naked, and she quickly laughs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you have a sweatshirt I could wear, or…”
“Help yourself to my closet. I’ll watch out for the coffee delivery. Meet you downstairs.”
I head to the kitchen and decide to show off my French toast abilities.
When she meets me there, I tell her, “Considering you’re into everything French, I’ll make you French toast.”
She smiles and peers into the fridge. “Good. I’ll show off my perfect hardboiled eggs for you, too.”
I chuckle and shake my head as we get everything cooking. We serve two plates and set them on the kitchen counter and have breakfast in silence with Sara’s leg draped around one of my thighs, my hand on her knee.
“You make a badass French toast,” she says. She takes a sip of coffee and pushes her empty plate aside as she boosts herself up on the counter. I stand and wedge myself between her legs, parting them to make room for me.
Our eyes lock, hold. “So you think you’d like to do this again?” I set my coffee aside.
She seems flustered, but typical Sara, she tries to hide it behind sass. “I might if you wash the dishes.”
I sass her back. “I have people coming in to do that.”
She laughs. I pry her coffee from her grip and set it aside, gentling my voice. “Answer me, Sara.”
She meets my gaze. “I had a great time last night,” she says softly.
“So did I.” I wrap my hands around her waist. She smiles and reaches out to set her hand on my arm, and my muscles tighten.
My entire frame tightens. Hell, I’m in an odd, bewildered state where I’ll do anything she tells me.
She’s breathing fast, looks wound up and ready to be loved, and a heat rises up in me as if I were exclusively made to accommodate her.
We share a look.
I’m quiet but turned on.
I want her senseless, panting like she was last night. Our tongues twined.
The idea of some other guy being able to give her something I can’t hits me.
Images that whip through me of her together with someone else settle like an ice-cold shard at the pit of my stomach. No. Hell no.
I move her closer.
I catch her chin and draw her face to me and when a gasp leaves her lips, I bend my head and take it, take that gasp, that mouth, that moan that follows. Tasting my toothpaste on her mouth.
“I’ll see you tonight, then. Be good, Sara.”
“I’m always good except with you.” She hops off and winks at me past her shoulder, and I watch her climb the stairs to get dressed.
You’re fucking done for, Ford.
If it were any other girl, I might be drastically concerned. But it’s Sara. The girl who puts this smile on my face that I just can’t seem to get rid of.
NEWS
Sara
“Where have you been, Miss Hot Shot?” I ask Bryn as she steps into the living room where I am painting my toenails after a blissful sleepover and morning with my yummy motherfucker.
“You’d never guess where.” She lifts her hand, and I frown because I can’t be seeing what I’m seeing.
The flash around Bryn’s finger isn’t some big, sparkly bling. Is it?
“We’re getting married,” she says, her smile a mile long.
“What the…? When did this happen?” I drop my feet to the floor and stand, shocked.
“That night. The same night we made up after the House of Sass launch. It was all so fast. I picked out a ring this week.”
Dumbly, I walk over and stare at the elegant emerald-cut diamond on her finger. It’s simple yet gorgeous. “Bryn! Oh my God!” I cover my mouth to quell my squeals of delight. “This is amazing!”
“Yes.” She’s giddy, her voice shaky as she bounces up and down on the balls of her feet.
“Does Becka know?” We pad over to the couch and settle down, where I stare at the gorgeous ring once again in bewilderment and excitement for her.
“I told her after you left that morning after the launch; you were so quiet… I didn’t want to tell you until I noticed you were back to normal. Is everything okay? You left before I could ask.”
I sport a grin of my own. “I’m over the moon.”
“Wow… I can tell! So what’s got you over the moon and putting that spring in your step? Aside from my fabulous engagement ring, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Did you get an audition?” she prods.
“Nope. But I got fucked really good.”
“Sara!”
I laugh. “Repeatedly. My Workaholic is ravenous. Yummy fucker.” I shake my head and try to get a hold of myself, but I feel too relaxed and happy today to succeed.
Checking that my nails are dry, I pad to the window. The city will soon light up for the night and it already breathes and crackles with possibilities. I plan to take it up on that promise. The city, I mean, on the promise of adventure.
“So what’s the plan? Are you going out?” she asks me as she pulls out her laptop.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Where to and with whom? Who is this guy?”
I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her that I’ve been seeing Ian, that I haven’t been able to stop. But on the other hand, who can I talk to about him if it’s not her and Becka?
“I might be seeing Mr. Ford,” I grudgingly admit.
She stops scanning her retail order form on her computer and sets the laptop aside. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Has the divorce gone through?”
“Not yet, but I know that he and his wife are done with each other and it’s only a matter of time. I really like him, Bryn.”
“I know you do—and does he like you?”
“He’s not the kind of man to pussyfoot around things. He wants us to see where this goes, to casually date and in the meantime have yummy sex.” I beam on that last part.
“Sara! When did this happen?”
“It’s recent. With the House of Sass launch and you and Christos back together…”
She leaps to her feet and comes over to grab my shoulders. “Don’t ever, ever not share important things with me because you think I have too much to deal with. I don’t. We’re friends; I want to be there for you.”
I run my eyes along her lips, drinking in the way she smiles at me from my bed. That adorably innocent smile and those harmless honeyed eyes pack a punch. Fuck, it’s hard to breathe at all.
“Good morning,” I say.
She sits up and pulls the sheets around her. I run my eyes over her smiling lips again, addicted to the sight.
“Good morning.” Her voice is raw with sleep and confusion.
Hell, I’m just as raw and just as confused by all of this.
This is casual. I’m still married—not that it’ll be for long. But still.
“I’ll take care of breakfast.” I jerk my chin toward the hallway leading downstairs.
She nibbles her lip, her eyes gleaming in amusement. “Coffee, too?”
“Espresso.” I’m teasing her.
She winces and watches me dress in plain gray boxers, black slacks, and a crisp white shirt. I zip up, button up, and grab my phone from the nightstand.
“I don’t take—”
“Espresso. I remember.” I smile at her, and she comes out from under the sheets. I watch her eyes widen when she realizes she’s naked, and she quickly laughs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you have a sweatshirt I could wear, or…”
“Help yourself to my closet. I’ll watch out for the coffee delivery. Meet you downstairs.”
I head to the kitchen and decide to show off my French toast abilities.
When she meets me there, I tell her, “Considering you’re into everything French, I’ll make you French toast.”
She smiles and peers into the fridge. “Good. I’ll show off my perfect hardboiled eggs for you, too.”
I chuckle and shake my head as we get everything cooking. We serve two plates and set them on the kitchen counter and have breakfast in silence with Sara’s leg draped around one of my thighs, my hand on her knee.
“You make a badass French toast,” she says. She takes a sip of coffee and pushes her empty plate aside as she boosts herself up on the counter. I stand and wedge myself between her legs, parting them to make room for me.
Our eyes lock, hold. “So you think you’d like to do this again?” I set my coffee aside.
She seems flustered, but typical Sara, she tries to hide it behind sass. “I might if you wash the dishes.”
I sass her back. “I have people coming in to do that.”
She laughs. I pry her coffee from her grip and set it aside, gentling my voice. “Answer me, Sara.”
She meets my gaze. “I had a great time last night,” she says softly.
“So did I.” I wrap my hands around her waist. She smiles and reaches out to set her hand on my arm, and my muscles tighten.
My entire frame tightens. Hell, I’m in an odd, bewildered state where I’ll do anything she tells me.
She’s breathing fast, looks wound up and ready to be loved, and a heat rises up in me as if I were exclusively made to accommodate her.
We share a look.
I’m quiet but turned on.
I want her senseless, panting like she was last night. Our tongues twined.
The idea of some other guy being able to give her something I can’t hits me.
Images that whip through me of her together with someone else settle like an ice-cold shard at the pit of my stomach. No. Hell no.
I move her closer.
I catch her chin and draw her face to me and when a gasp leaves her lips, I bend my head and take it, take that gasp, that mouth, that moan that follows. Tasting my toothpaste on her mouth.
“I’ll see you tonight, then. Be good, Sara.”
“I’m always good except with you.” She hops off and winks at me past her shoulder, and I watch her climb the stairs to get dressed.
You’re fucking done for, Ford.
If it were any other girl, I might be drastically concerned. But it’s Sara. The girl who puts this smile on my face that I just can’t seem to get rid of.
NEWS
Sara
“Where have you been, Miss Hot Shot?” I ask Bryn as she steps into the living room where I am painting my toenails after a blissful sleepover and morning with my yummy motherfucker.
“You’d never guess where.” She lifts her hand, and I frown because I can’t be seeing what I’m seeing.
The flash around Bryn’s finger isn’t some big, sparkly bling. Is it?
“We’re getting married,” she says, her smile a mile long.
“What the…? When did this happen?” I drop my feet to the floor and stand, shocked.
“That night. The same night we made up after the House of Sass launch. It was all so fast. I picked out a ring this week.”
Dumbly, I walk over and stare at the elegant emerald-cut diamond on her finger. It’s simple yet gorgeous. “Bryn! Oh my God!” I cover my mouth to quell my squeals of delight. “This is amazing!”
“Yes.” She’s giddy, her voice shaky as she bounces up and down on the balls of her feet.
“Does Becka know?” We pad over to the couch and settle down, where I stare at the gorgeous ring once again in bewilderment and excitement for her.
“I told her after you left that morning after the launch; you were so quiet… I didn’t want to tell you until I noticed you were back to normal. Is everything okay? You left before I could ask.”
I sport a grin of my own. “I’m over the moon.”
“Wow… I can tell! So what’s got you over the moon and putting that spring in your step? Aside from my fabulous engagement ring, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Did you get an audition?” she prods.
“Nope. But I got fucked really good.”
“Sara!”
I laugh. “Repeatedly. My Workaholic is ravenous. Yummy fucker.” I shake my head and try to get a hold of myself, but I feel too relaxed and happy today to succeed.
Checking that my nails are dry, I pad to the window. The city will soon light up for the night and it already breathes and crackles with possibilities. I plan to take it up on that promise. The city, I mean, on the promise of adventure.
“So what’s the plan? Are you going out?” she asks me as she pulls out her laptop.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Where to and with whom? Who is this guy?”
I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her that I’ve been seeing Ian, that I haven’t been able to stop. But on the other hand, who can I talk to about him if it’s not her and Becka?
“I might be seeing Mr. Ford,” I grudgingly admit.
She stops scanning her retail order form on her computer and sets the laptop aside. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Has the divorce gone through?”
“Not yet, but I know that he and his wife are done with each other and it’s only a matter of time. I really like him, Bryn.”
“I know you do—and does he like you?”
“He’s not the kind of man to pussyfoot around things. He wants us to see where this goes, to casually date and in the meantime have yummy sex.” I beam on that last part.
“Sara! When did this happen?”
“It’s recent. With the House of Sass launch and you and Christos back together…”
She leaps to her feet and comes over to grab my shoulders. “Don’t ever, ever not share important things with me because you think I have too much to deal with. I don’t. We’re friends; I want to be there for you.”
