Mogul (Manhattan #2)(3)

“Yeah? And I had a long flight.”

Despite my better judgment, I’m running my eyes over his rather gorgeously wide, flat chest and his handsome boy-next-door face mixed with porn star smile and the elusiveness of some workaholic that clings to him like that damn hot black suit.

He sighs in exasperation. “Come closer,” he says again.

I’m debating whether to offer him a sassy comeback or shock the hell out of him when I do as he asks, but my phone rings, and I wonder if it’s my roommate confirming he’s finally vacated my apartment.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Is this Sara Davies?”

“Yes, this is Sara.”

“Sara, this is Carly. You know, the new girl? I was wondering if you could cover my shift for me tonight at the hotel.”

“I just got back into town, and I’m exhausted, and my shift doesn’t start until tomorrow—”

“Oh, thank you so much for doing this for me! I know it’s a lot to ask,” she squeaks as if I just agreed and hangs up.

Ugh.

I glower at my phone. I’m not ready to go back to work. And what about my bath? Ugh.

“Sara, huh.” He watches me as I tuck my phone back into my purse.

“Do you have something against my name?”

“Nope. Just pictured something more exotic.” He fiddles with his phone, tucks it back into his pocket, and says, “I want to fuck you in the back of this car, Sara.”

“Yeah? And I want to fuck up your filthy mouth with my fist.” I smirk, but my body clutches and shivers inside. I hate the idea that he might be able to see through my smart remark and intuitively know the effect he has on me.

I tap the glass and tell the driver, “Change of plans. Drop me off at the Four Seasons Hotel downtown.”

The stranger in the car next to me seems to bite back a smile as he reaches out to touch a bit of my loose dark hair. My heart begins to pound. I want him to touch more of me.

We ride like this, for minutes. Hours. The guy simply twirling a strand of my hair around his index finger. His long, thick, tanned index finger with the perfectly trimmed, really short nail.

I don’t know why. But maybe it’s because I know that we’re arriving very soon. Or maybe because I want to shock the hell out of him because the guy looks unshockable.

I slide down the seat, inching closer to him, and once our hips meet, I shift sideways and, ever so slowly, swing my leg out and straddle him. I hold my position, our eyes locked, considering the boldness of my move while something very hard presses prominently between my legs.

I swallow, bend my head, and whisper in his ear, “Maybe I do want to get fucked in the back of this car, too. Problem is… we’re about to arrive.”

I rock my hips against him, causing his erection to grow more pronounced. His hands possessively lock onto my ass, his fingers biting into my hips.

The car halts. We’ve reached my destination.

I swallow again, trying to cover my panting desperation for more.

“I hope that improved your day a little,” I taunt with a smile as I slide off him.

He laughs and watches me narrowly as I grab my carry-on.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“That’s my line,” he says, and shifts his position as he adjusts himself in his slacks and follows me out.

Wow. What a gentleman.

He heads to the back of the trunk and removes my suitcase. “That’s really not necessary. But thank you,” I tell him, taking my bag.

He grabs his own case, and my eyes widen when he pulls out a bill and pays the driver. I gape at him. “Umm, what are you—”

“Sara, thank goodness!” Carly interrupts, coming up behind us. “Here, I’ll bring this in for you.” She grabs my bag while eyeing the hot motherfucker I rode in with.

“Who is he?” she gushes, shooting a look past my shoulder as we shuffle inside.

“Nobody. And you’re going to owe me big time,” I growl under my breath.

As I settle in behind the concierge desk, my gaze follows his movements. I watch him check in at the VIP counter. Then he walks across the lobby toward me. When I realize where he is headed, my heart starts drumming crazily again.

He reaches my desk and leans forward. I didn’t think it was possible, but he looks hotter and taller from where I am standing.

“You’re an interesting discovery, aren’t you?” he says, unsmiling but obviously curious.

“I’ve existed for a long time; you didn’t discover me.”

“Oh, but I have. Or you me.”

Maybe he’s right. It feels like my existence was all so dull and monotonous until I climbed into the back of this guy’s cab.

“I’m tired. Had a long day. I was going out to get a glass of wine and a light dinner before heading off to bed. Would you join me?” He raises his brows.

“I’m on the clock until midnight.”

“I understand. What time do you have free tomorrow?”

“I’m covering for a friend, so not until 9 p.m.”

He nods and walks off.

Boo. He must not be as interested as I thought. Suddenly I want to wail.

Instead, I pull myself together and get busy behind the desk. I field a couple of calls regarding tickets to Broadway, directions to a restaurant, and in-room Netflix access.