His Property: A Rough Billionaire Romance by Trent Evans

Author:Trent Evans [Evans, Trent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2022-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

Lola

A hard knocking against the window startled me awake, and I cried out, clapping my hands to my eyes at the bright early morning light pouring through the windows. I had been dreaming, a lurid, twisted pastiche of all the interactions I’d had with the strange, stern, impossible to resist man who had come to occupy so much of my thoughts of late.

The knock came again, harsher this time. I removed my hands, squinting against the light. “Jesus, what is it? How early is… what time is it?” I was so tired I was still disoriented. I had a sheen of slick drool down the right side of my chin. The left side of my neck hurt terribly, which was a common feature of sleeping in my driver seat. At some point overnight, the pillow I’d propped behind my head last night had slipped down between the seat and the door. It no doubt had left my head hanging to the side as if I were a corpse sitting in my car. It was cold, freezing actually, the thin blanket I used totally inadequate for keeping away the chill of the early morning.

Then I looked out to see who it was banging on my window—and my heart seized in my chest.

It was Mr. Winters.

Oh, fuck!

I went to start the ignition, but he knocked on the door again, giving me a silent shake of his head. He was wearing a white T-shirt and those same pajama bottoms he had on when I’d come to confront him. His hair was mussed, but somehow it made him look even more devastatingly attractive, the thick growth of five o’clock shadow only enhancing the ruggedness of his face, emphasizing the uber-masculine look and shape of his jaw. The man was entirely too good-looking to be my boss.

You’ve got a whole lot of problems right now that are far more important than drooling over this man.

I cracked open my door. His fingers curled in over the top edge, drawing the door wide. He filled the doorway, staring down at me, his eyes as cold as the morning wind. “I could ask you what the hell you’re doing out here parking on my street so early. But there are other questions I want answers to first.” He tipped his head in the direction of his house a block down the street. “Get yourself together and come park in my driveway. You and I need to talk.”

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