Mogul by Katy Evans

Author:Katy Evans [Evans, Katy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Tycoon Series
Publisher: Katy Evans
Published: 2018-05-31T04:00:00+00:00

Sara

I wake up disconcerted for a second until I peer through my eyelids to see him. He’s still in his suit. His lashes rest against his cheekbones. His arm is around me as I spoon his side. This is really nice, I realize. I should go home, but I don’t want to. I want this guy, even though there’s a dull thudding in my head. I can’t believe a guy who’s real flesh and blood—not an image on a movie screen, or in a magazine or book—can make me want like this.

I hear him shift and turn his face to rest his chin on the top of my head. He inhales and exhales with a soft groan before easing his arm out from under me and stepping into the bathroom.

I hear the soft close of the bathroom door and the sound of the shower turn on.

I smile perversely knowing he’s probably taking care of himself in there, or at least turning the faucet to cold. He was hard against my stomach most of the night and I delighted in pushing closer to him. I love that he wants me like this.

I drift in and out of sleep, and the next time my eyes pop open he is standing before me, in all his damp glory, his chest glistening wet, his dark hair slicked back, and a towel around his hips. My perverse smile fades. Now the joke’s on me. I ache all over, from my breasts to way down between my legs. My heart a little bit, too.

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

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