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TWO HOURS LATER, Leilani was curled up on the sofa, her mom’s legs across her lap as she rubbed her ankles.
An empty glass of wine hung from her mom’s hand and her eyes were shut. Leilani reached for it and placed the glass on the table beside her. Then turned down the volume on the tv and pulled the note out of her pocket.
Run away with me and bring that lip gloss.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Jacob’s message. It was silly, just harmless flirting, referencing his earlier joke about running away to have lunch together.
He probably left notes like this for a whole range of unsuspecting women he flirted with.
A man like him with those wide shoulders and stunning blue eyes was hard to ignore. Toss in his smirk, a pair of dimples, and the fact he was a billionaire, well, very few women would say no.
She had a feeling Jacob was going to feature in her dreams tonight. Heck, the way his shirt had bunched around his biceps as he’d leaned over her desk had been impossible to ignore, and she also hadn’t missed the fit of his pants around his well-rounded butt when she’d fled the office.
She’d spent the entire lunch with Missy wondering what his cock looked like.
Surely other girls did that.
Right?
She pulled out her phone to check the time and then began to flick through her social media. Her thumb scrolled over and over until she found an erotic image advertising a romance book.
God.
He looked so much like Jacob.
Closing her eyes, she imagined sitting on Jacob’s lap, in the same position as the characters she’d just seen, and how he would lift her and slide her down his cock.
Her eyes blinked open, shocked by the visual.
Was he single?
She had to know.
Next minute she found herself on his Instagram page. @The_Real_Jacob_Dufort
Holy fuck, he was gorgeous.
Photo after photo looked like it was professionally taken. Some with his family, some at home by himself, at the gym, in Hawaii at a family wedding, and some with a group of fun, sexy women.
Women who were absolutely stunning.
Leilani tipped her head back onto the cushion and closed her eyes.
“God, I’m an idiot,” she whispered into the quiet room. Jacob was just playing with her. Entertaining himself.
Even in her new navy and cream Banana Republic dress, she wasn’t anywhere near as classy as the women he usually dated. Heck, she’d recently splurged and got a Kate Spade handbag, which he probably thought was cheap and nasty.
Jacob was a Dufort. Dufort—as in the billionaires.
Men like him weren’t interested in women like her.
But that moment between us...
Just a game.
It was all just a game.
Fletcher Dufort had been very well known as the Playboy of Manhattan before marrying Olivia Dufort.
