Mogul
Page 43
I raise her hand to my lips and brush a kiss along her knuckles, giving them a little bite that I know she’ll appreciate. “I’ll learn to trust. You’ll teach me how to trust again.”
“Talking about things helps. And not putting any walls between us. Ever. Letting our feelings free.”
I scoop her up by the ass, buzzing my nose over hers as I drop kisses on her sweet face, gruffly whispering, “I love you. It seems impossible that as the days go by, I love you more and more.”
“It’s not impossible because I’m in the same boat. Same love boat.” She rolls her eyes as I drop her back to her feet. “Okay, bad joke.”
Saying the L word as frequently as I do to Sara sometimes feels like a death sentence. But you’d never meet a happier dead man.
* * *
That night, I can’t sleep. Sara breathes evenly beside me, her body coated with sweat from the pounding I just gave her.
Fuck, she makes the most delicious sounds as she sleeps. Sounds I feel jealous over, protective over. Because they’re sexual sounds. The little kitten is having a sex dream. And I want those sounds to come alive only for me.
I rub my hand down her spine, pulling her closer. She stirs in my arms, a sultry smile on her face as we lock gazes.
I run my eyes along her lips, drinking in the way she always wakes up and smiles at me when she finds me watching her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice is raw with sleep and definitely confused.
“I like the way you look, sweetheart. Can’t I look at what’s mine?” I stroke my hands down to her butt.
She nibbles her lip, looking like she might kiss me, her eyes gleaming in amusement.
“Are you thinking of sex, Ian?” she taunts me in a roughened whisper, stroking her fingers along my arm.
My body tightens. Hell, I’m at an odd, bewildered place where I’ll do anything she tells me. Jump in exchange for more touching. Do anything for more of Sara’s loving.
I groan. “Yes.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Her devilish eyes glitter.
“Maybe I’m waiting for someone to wake me up from this hell of a wet dream I’ve landed on.”
“And if I’m not a dream?” she taunts quietly.
I drink in her pale neck, a simple gold necklace at her throat, her hair loose—damn, I love it loose ’cause I can grab it, smell it, wrap my fingers in it.
She’s breathing fast, looks wound up and ready to be loved, and a heat rises in me as if I were exclusively made to accommodate her.
We share a look.
“Then I keep you, kitten.” I bend down and grab her closer, squeezing her ass in my palms, our tongues twined.
That’s all I want. Everything.
I catch and draw her to me and when a gasp leaves her lips, I bend my head and take it, take that gasp, that mouth, the moan that follows, the girl who’s got me.
* * *
That Saturday, it’s Sara’s big opening night. I’ve got the roses, twenty dozen of them, already waiting back home. I brought a dozen more to the theater and sit in the center front row, watching her dance her heart out in front of a crowd of thousands. I couldn’t be prouder of her.
She nails it. Triple threat who can act, sing, and dance. Hell, in two hours she brings down the house. Gets a standing ovation. I’m the first one to stand, clapping like I’ve never clapped before.
My chest swells. My dick jerks. My whole body involved with my goddamn heart. It’s like a helium balloon in my chest. I’m so full I could pop.
Up on the stage, Sara strides forward, grabbing her team’s hands as they bow, the widest, fucking most edible smile dancing on her lips. All those practices. Every excruciating effort. Even the days soaking her muscles in a cold bath. Every hurdle has been worth it. Every challenge has been conquered. Every test passed.
I’ve seen the brightest and most talented stars on Broadway. I’ve even seen them in Hollywood. But nothing can hold a flame to Sara, who burns more brightly than anything I’ve ever seen.
When the curtains close for real now, I snatch the roses and a bottle of champagne and stride backstage.
I know what to expect. Photo ops for the paper. Hell, I can already see the reviews she’ll get. A new star is born on Broadway!
Sara’s in her dressing room when I rap on the door and push it open. She swivels around in her chair and our eyes meet. She’s on her feet as I cross the room and she throws herself into my arms. I set the flowers and champagne aside and pull her in tighter.
I squeeze her, then toss her into the air, catching her by the waist only to plant a firm kiss on her mouth, both of us laughing.
“I’m proud of you, kitten. You slayed it tonight.”
“I know! I know! God, did you hear the crowd?”
“Baby, I was one of them.”
She squeaks and leaps up and down, and then quickly wipes the corners of her eyes and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing herself closer. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it. Thank you, Ian.” She grabs my face and presses her lips to mine, and they taste of her tears and I can’t get enough of her. I’ll never get enough of her.
HOT WORKAHOLIC
Sara
It’s six months later, and I’m getting the meal ready for dinner while Ian reads a script in the living room. We’re having Bryn and Christos over. I’ve never really hosted a formal dinner, and I want to impress my man, our friends, and myself.
Turning off the oven to make sure the brisket doesn’t overcook, I peer into the living room. Ian’s dark head is bent, and he’s got this cute, really hot and thoughtful look on his face. A hand covers half of his jaw, his lips unsmiling as his gaze scans the page.
I do a little pirouette in the living room, then leap into the air and land stealthily back on my feet. Like a cat.
Ian’s gaze slowly rises to meet mine, and his lips begin to twitch. “Do that again. I missed it.”
“No you didn’t.” I smirk and chassé forward, loving the way he looks at me, the way my Suit makes me feel.
“You’d say anything to get me to dance for you.”
“That’s right,” he says, setting the script aside and sitting up on the couch.
I oblige and do a sexy turn and begin dancing for him, the most seductive dance I know. Every bone and muscle in my body hurts after dancing my ass off for the past six months straight, but nothing else matters except pleasing my man.
It doesn’t hurt that I love it when he watches me dance.
It turns me on.
What can I say?
Come on, this guy lights me up so bad I sometimes can’t sleep for fear of waking up and finding him gone.
“Okay, enough.” I stop dancing, head over, and pull him to his feet, pecking him on the lips because I just can’t help myself. “We have guests arriving soon. I’m doing my best to impress, but you still need to pick the wine.”
He squeezes my ass and plants a kiss on my temple as he heads to the small wine fridge he set up by the bar. I hear Ian rummaging through the bottles, taking out one, inspecting the year, before sliding it back in and taking out another.
Getting busy, I plump up the pillows on the couch and straighten a photograph on a small side table. I drink in the image of us—our first photo together. It was a selfie, one we took randomly when we went out to dinner one night after I moved in, and it struck me that I didn’t have a picture to put up in our new place. Which we’d just finished furnishing.
“Talking about things helps. And not putting any walls between us. Ever. Letting our feelings free.”
I scoop her up by the ass, buzzing my nose over hers as I drop kisses on her sweet face, gruffly whispering, “I love you. It seems impossible that as the days go by, I love you more and more.”
“It’s not impossible because I’m in the same boat. Same love boat.” She rolls her eyes as I drop her back to her feet. “Okay, bad joke.”
Saying the L word as frequently as I do to Sara sometimes feels like a death sentence. But you’d never meet a happier dead man.
* * *
That night, I can’t sleep. Sara breathes evenly beside me, her body coated with sweat from the pounding I just gave her.
Fuck, she makes the most delicious sounds as she sleeps. Sounds I feel jealous over, protective over. Because they’re sexual sounds. The little kitten is having a sex dream. And I want those sounds to come alive only for me.
I rub my hand down her spine, pulling her closer. She stirs in my arms, a sultry smile on her face as we lock gazes.
I run my eyes along her lips, drinking in the way she always wakes up and smiles at me when she finds me watching her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice is raw with sleep and definitely confused.
“I like the way you look, sweetheart. Can’t I look at what’s mine?” I stroke my hands down to her butt.
She nibbles her lip, looking like she might kiss me, her eyes gleaming in amusement.
“Are you thinking of sex, Ian?” she taunts me in a roughened whisper, stroking her fingers along my arm.
My body tightens. Hell, I’m at an odd, bewildered place where I’ll do anything she tells me. Jump in exchange for more touching. Do anything for more of Sara’s loving.
I groan. “Yes.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Her devilish eyes glitter.
“Maybe I’m waiting for someone to wake me up from this hell of a wet dream I’ve landed on.”
“And if I’m not a dream?” she taunts quietly.
I drink in her pale neck, a simple gold necklace at her throat, her hair loose—damn, I love it loose ’cause I can grab it, smell it, wrap my fingers in it.
She’s breathing fast, looks wound up and ready to be loved, and a heat rises in me as if I were exclusively made to accommodate her.
We share a look.
“Then I keep you, kitten.” I bend down and grab her closer, squeezing her ass in my palms, our tongues twined.
That’s all I want. Everything.
I catch and draw her to me and when a gasp leaves her lips, I bend my head and take it, take that gasp, that mouth, the moan that follows, the girl who’s got me.
* * *
That Saturday, it’s Sara’s big opening night. I’ve got the roses, twenty dozen of them, already waiting back home. I brought a dozen more to the theater and sit in the center front row, watching her dance her heart out in front of a crowd of thousands. I couldn’t be prouder of her.
She nails it. Triple threat who can act, sing, and dance. Hell, in two hours she brings down the house. Gets a standing ovation. I’m the first one to stand, clapping like I’ve never clapped before.
My chest swells. My dick jerks. My whole body involved with my goddamn heart. It’s like a helium balloon in my chest. I’m so full I could pop.
Up on the stage, Sara strides forward, grabbing her team’s hands as they bow, the widest, fucking most edible smile dancing on her lips. All those practices. Every excruciating effort. Even the days soaking her muscles in a cold bath. Every hurdle has been worth it. Every challenge has been conquered. Every test passed.
I’ve seen the brightest and most talented stars on Broadway. I’ve even seen them in Hollywood. But nothing can hold a flame to Sara, who burns more brightly than anything I’ve ever seen.
When the curtains close for real now, I snatch the roses and a bottle of champagne and stride backstage.
I know what to expect. Photo ops for the paper. Hell, I can already see the reviews she’ll get. A new star is born on Broadway!
Sara’s in her dressing room when I rap on the door and push it open. She swivels around in her chair and our eyes meet. She’s on her feet as I cross the room and she throws herself into my arms. I set the flowers and champagne aside and pull her in tighter.
I squeeze her, then toss her into the air, catching her by the waist only to plant a firm kiss on her mouth, both of us laughing.
“I’m proud of you, kitten. You slayed it tonight.”
“I know! I know! God, did you hear the crowd?”
“Baby, I was one of them.”
She squeaks and leaps up and down, and then quickly wipes the corners of her eyes and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing herself closer. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it. Thank you, Ian.” She grabs my face and presses her lips to mine, and they taste of her tears and I can’t get enough of her. I’ll never get enough of her.
HOT WORKAHOLIC
Sara
It’s six months later, and I’m getting the meal ready for dinner while Ian reads a script in the living room. We’re having Bryn and Christos over. I’ve never really hosted a formal dinner, and I want to impress my man, our friends, and myself.
Turning off the oven to make sure the brisket doesn’t overcook, I peer into the living room. Ian’s dark head is bent, and he’s got this cute, really hot and thoughtful look on his face. A hand covers half of his jaw, his lips unsmiling as his gaze scans the page.
I do a little pirouette in the living room, then leap into the air and land stealthily back on my feet. Like a cat.
Ian’s gaze slowly rises to meet mine, and his lips begin to twitch. “Do that again. I missed it.”
“No you didn’t.” I smirk and chassé forward, loving the way he looks at me, the way my Suit makes me feel.
“You’d say anything to get me to dance for you.”
“That’s right,” he says, setting the script aside and sitting up on the couch.
I oblige and do a sexy turn and begin dancing for him, the most seductive dance I know. Every bone and muscle in my body hurts after dancing my ass off for the past six months straight, but nothing else matters except pleasing my man.
It doesn’t hurt that I love it when he watches me dance.
It turns me on.
What can I say?
Come on, this guy lights me up so bad I sometimes can’t sleep for fear of waking up and finding him gone.
“Okay, enough.” I stop dancing, head over, and pull him to his feet, pecking him on the lips because I just can’t help myself. “We have guests arriving soon. I’m doing my best to impress, but you still need to pick the wine.”
He squeezes my ass and plants a kiss on my temple as he heads to the small wine fridge he set up by the bar. I hear Ian rummaging through the bottles, taking out one, inspecting the year, before sliding it back in and taking out another.
Getting busy, I plump up the pillows on the couch and straighten a photograph on a small side table. I drink in the image of us—our first photo together. It was a selfie, one we took randomly when we went out to dinner one night after I moved in, and it struck me that I didn’t have a picture to put up in our new place. Which we’d just finished furnishing.
