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I grin up at him. “Does something to you, doesn’t it?”
“Mmm.” His smile is wide. Teeth pretty and white and glowing in the black light.
“I wish you could’ve been here earlier. You missed me doing the Watermelon Crawl.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Someone had to work so the rest of you would have something to celebrate.”
“You closed the deal? It’s official?”
“We went over the details. But I need our lawyers to close. We’ll set up a meeting sometime in the next couple of days, depending on the weather, to finalize it.” His fingers ghost the neckline of my shirt. “Stay with me until it’s done.” He looks up at me from beneath his lashes and grins. “Just in case the sisters sober up and change their mind?”
OMG.
He’s asking me to stay.
Shit!
I’m not sure I can.
“For how long?”
He smirks. “Trying to play hard to get?”
I shrug. I’ll let him believe whatever he wants. But I still need an answer. And it takes him a few moments to realize I’m waiting on one. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. How long are you asking me to stay?”
“What’s it matter? Do you have to check your schedule or something?”
“Or something. How long?”
His eyes narrow. “A couple days at most.”
“So, two days? That’s it?”
“Yes, Penelope. Two days. Will you stay with me for two more days?”
I grin. “Okay. I can do two days.”
“You are so odd.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Like why you agreed to dinner with him and his daughters tonight if you weren’t doing it to close the deal? I didn’t think rich people did anything on their own. I figured you had a team that would handle things like that.”
“I prefer a more…hands on approach”
“Was that a sexual innuendo?”
He laughs. “Not if I have to explain it.”
His hand clasps mine and he leads me to a seat on one of the velvet couches and passes me a bottle of water from the wet bar. This VIP suite is the shit. They even have chicken wings.
“I do a lot of business with people like Jim Canton. People who put their heart and souls into their projects,” he explains, taking a seat on the couch opposite me and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “A lot of them risked everything to bring their ideas to life. Invested everything they had. I admire that. I respect it. So I make it personal. I don’t want them to feel like they’re selling out to a suit. I want them to feel good about the decision to sell. And know that I’m going to treat their product like it was my own.”
Wow.
Who knew he could get sexier?
“That room in my house? The one with the code on the door that you think is some kind of sex dungeon? It’s where I keep all my files. The original copies of the blueprints on patents. All my clients’ personal information. Prototypes. It’s all there. Where I never have to doubt if it’s secure. I don’t even trust that kind of information in the hands of the people who work for me.”
“That’s…I wasn’t expecting that.”
“What part? How I make every investment personal or the locked room being a file room rather than a sex room?”
“Well, I’m disappointed the file room isn’t a sex room.” He laughs. It’s such a great laugh. “But the other? You making it so personal? That’s pretty awe-inspiring.”
He sobers. “It’s good business. And it’s why I’m successful. Like you said, I’m not creative enough to come up with my own ideas.” His left eye closes on a wink. My vagina quivers. “But I know business. I like investing in things that are often overlooked. It makes it even more satisfying when it becomes a global phenomenon.”
“Global phenomenon? Really?”
He shrugs. It’s just a lift of his shoulder, but the humble move says so much more about him. “I know something good when I see it.”
His eyes sweep over my body. Like I’m something good.
I straighten, try to perk my tits up a little. Arch my neck. Pout my lips. I’m not very subtle.
He catches on quick and smirks at me. Then his eyes darken. And his lips part. And I feel like dessert.
“You want to get out of here?”
“Yes. Please. Yes. I do.” Idiot….
I feel like I’m in a haze as we walk through the club. The mist is just a blur of lights and music, Cam promising to get the sisters home, Ross opening the door of the car and the hard wall of muscle sliding onto the seat next to me.
My drunken fog has nothing to do with alcohol. I’m stoned on Jake Swagger. High on sexual tension. Boneless and horny and jacked up on endorphins.
Lips are on my lips. Tongue dancing with my tongue. Thick, deft fingers flipping open the button on my pants. One masculine hand sliding beneath my panties. A feral growl in my ear. A harsh whisper confirming my desire, “Your pussy is fucking soaked.”
