Mogul (Manhattan #2)(53)

Ian whispers in my ear, his voice husky, “Are you going to dance like this for me in private tonight?”

The sharp, clean smell of his soap envelops me, weakens me. My senses are on Ian Ford overload. I nod, and he groans as his mouth opens on mine. I press myself to him and let him get my lipstick all over his lips.

A dozen people come talk to him, and though he scrapes the back of his hand over his lips, I love seeing the tiny feminine mark of my coral lipstick on the corner of his sexy mouth. Ian, what’s that? Ian, how about that? A lot of them are women. Are you filming in the city?… Some women blatantly come up to offer to see him later tonight, but he whispers a negative and sends them on their way. I blush from where I sit.

“Men like him won’t ever marry again. Not after what his ex did. He’s looking for someone to get over the wife, don’t you think?” the cougar is telling Loki.

Ian covers my ear with one hand and draws me to his chest, his eyes concerned but comforting. “Tomorrow they’ll have someone else to skewer.”

“But tonight it’s me.”

His lips look swollen from all our kissing, and I can feel his lust for me swirling around us. “Did you know you were this popular?”

He laughs.

“Did you?”

“What does it matter?”

“I don’t understand why, when you had all these women available, you chose me to be the one to fuck in room 1103.”

He frowns. “Let’s take this outside.”

He comes to his feet and helps me up to mine, and the watching crowd steps aside as he leads me to the pair of velvet curtains that open to the terrace.

“Where are we going?”

“To be alone for a while.”

“I… I haven’t even finished my drink.” He tugs me outside and I gasp at how pretty it is, with the balcony overlooking a waterfall wall, surrounded by what could only be a forest of trees—in the middle of New York.

“This is surreal,” I say, and when he doesn’t reply, I turn to find Ian standing a few feet away, looking at me. Need explodes in my stomach when my eyes meet his onyx ones.

He eases us against a nearby pillar, fingers digging deliciously into my hip, and drags me up against him until we’re flush.

“I didn’t pick you; I wasn’t even looking for you. But here you are, kitten. And I want you.” I grab his shoulders as he slides a hand up and into my hair and opens my mouth with his. Breaths mingle. His kiss is possessive, determined.

“I…” I lick my lips when we stop. “Is this casual to you?”

He raises his brows at my question. Maybe it’s not an appropriate time to have this conversation, but I need to know if those women were right—if he’s using me. Or if my body, and my heart, know the truth. And there’s more between us than what my brain can possibly understand.

“I’m having a lot of fun with you,” I begin. How do I even phrase it? How do I say: I don’t want you to break my fucking heart, you stupid, sexy man?

“I’m having a lot of fun too.”

“Sex with you is amazing. Euphoric. Out of this fucking world. I’ve never been so in love with a guy’s dick. It’s perfect. Gorgeous. Thick and—”

“I get it. You like my dick. That’s not what I wanted to hear,” he says, seizing my shoulders in his warm grip and pulling my face back to his. “I know you tremble. Hell, I’ve never liked to fuck someone so much. I like fucking, yes, but with you it’s a whole other level, Sara.”

“What level?”

“What level?” He sounds exasperated. “Every fucking level. I want you, Sara. You. Not just your pussy.”

I laugh and flush, shaking my head. “I’m sorry I went on about your unbelievable—”

“That’s okay, my dick liked it, and I’m very glad you like my dick. But I want to know how you feel about me.”

“You?” I’m shell-shocked for a moment by the question. “Well, you’re selfish, arrogant, you need a lot of work.”

“But I’m not hopeless,” Ian says, raising one brow almost commandingly.

“No.”

He exhales, the corner of his lips moving. “Then let’s do it, Sara. Let’s have a go at it for real.”

I look away, feeling like my composure is under attack. How much do I want this?

So much it scares me.

“Look at it this way: as a bonus you get my dick.”

A soft laugh leaves me as I gather the courage to glance back into his face, and I notice his features aren’t exactly stoic. His expression is taut with passion, a living light shining in his eyes. I don’t want to admit that I like him, too, and that I am drawn to him, recklessly, like a magnet. But he’s opening up to me, and no matter how scared I am, I don’t want to shut him out.

“Look, I know you have reservations. But my divorce will come through very soon. And I want you to think about it not being so casual anymore.”

“It’s not casual for me,” I admit. “It hasn’t been for a while. But I don’t want you to hurt me, you stupid, yummy motherfucker.” I groan.

“Good that it’s not casual. And come on, Sara.” He laughs a low, sardonic laugh, tutting at me. “We both know that’s not what I want with you.”