Ms. Manwhore by Katy Evans

Author:Katy Evans [Evans, Katy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781501126895
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2015-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

HOME

Since it’s a fifteen-hour flight, I get to hang around with the girls, a little hungover for the day, then by early afternoon I head to the penthouse to shower and change.

By 7 p.m. I am waiting for him in his apartment, wandering around a little bit and fixing my things. I don’t want my Rachel Invasion to wear on him too soon, and I was a little less careful when I had a bedroom all to myself.

Exhaustion wears me down. But if my head touches our bed, I’ll be asleep. I curl in the seating area in the living room, with a perfect view of the elevators to one side and Chicago to the other, and stare out the window, watching the flickering city lights as I doze off.

I hear the elevator ting and I perk up as adrenaline shoots me to my feet.

It’s like electricity ignites in the room the moment Malcolm steps into the penthouse.

I see him, he sees me. The air heats and crackles like a live thing, leaping in arcs from him to me, from me to him. His gaze latches on to mine and my heart dances as I stare at him with homesickness and longing and happiness times a million.

The air of confidence around him radiates like a power line, lures me like a flame in the dark.

He drops his luggage. “Wow, look at you.”

There’s a jolt of excitement in me when I recognize the admiration in his voice. I’m wearing one of his white button-down shirts for sleep but it never ceases to amaze him. I rasp, “Look at you.”

“How are you, Rachel?”

A wave of intense feelings overtakes me as I nod over his concern. “How are you?”

“Good.” The prolonged anticipation of the moment before he walks forward to take me in his arms is almost unbearable. We exchange a huge hug. A hug that is tight and warm and goes on for a minute, telling me that he missed me. His nearness kindles me to a burn as I savor the strength and warmth of his embrace. He smells of the leather of his brand-new airplane. And wood. And soap. And Saint. Oh god, Saint.

“Glad to be home.”

“Really?”

The truth in his eyes is nearly heartrending. “Really.” He smiles down at me as he spreads a hand on my face to brush my hair back, then he opens his other hand on the small of my back and smashes me to his chest to greedily fit his lips to mine. I’m all too willing. Ready. Soft. And warm.

“Oh god, I missed you, Malcolm,” I breathe, sliding my hands into his hair.

“I missed you too.” He sucks on my lower lip, then he sweeps into my mouth one more time, groaning, “Next time I hit Dubai, you’re coming with me.” He reaches into the back pocket of his slacks, and he produces a casino chip, a twinkle appearing in his eyes. The chip is green as his eyes and it has so many digits, I can hardly believe that a chip for this quantity exists.

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