Page 45 of Off Limits Mogul

I comb my fingers through my way-too-short hair, wishing I could run my fingers through his. Rhys has the best hair—dark brown, thick with a wave. He’s sporting a kickass layered and feather cut—close shaven on the side with the longer layers on top styled with gel. The haircut drips with boldness and masculinity.

My eyes drop to his mouth and those lips I’ve only been able to taste once. I’d give up a vital organ in a heartbeat for a second kiss.

He waves. “Earth to Keira.”

I snap out of it. “You said it yourself last night at dinner, you work too much. My role as your new roommate is to shake things up for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah.” I stand my ground.

“And when did you decide that?”

My eyes shift left to right. “Just now. I made an executive decision.”

“If you think I need to inject more fun in my life, I cease to understand how your fake girlfriend act at French Appliqué fits. It made me uncomfortable.”

“What made you uncomfortable, my harmless shenanigans… or imagining me in sexy lingerie?”

Whoa.

I have no idea where that came from, but since this is the first time in my life I see playboy Rhys Hartford blush, I’m pretty proud of myself.

“You’re playing with fire,” he says. His voice is gruff.

I consider him for a few beats.

“I’m okay with that.” I don’t recognize my raspy voice.

He shoots me a measured glance.

His gaze slides back to the road, but his reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. He tightens his jaw and white knuckles the wheel.

Keira, one. Rhys, zero.

For the rest of my natural life, I’ll never forget the hunger in his gaze when he was drinking me up in that kimono. His dreamy blue eyes were dark, hooded and something flashed behind them that caused my whole body to shiver. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been dying for him to look at me that way and I went about it in all the wrong ways… until today.

Thank you, French Appliqué.

Chapter 11

Rhys

Iplace the glass of vodka on the rocks I just polished off on the table and get up to start dinner.

If I keep my head occupied, my mind won’t slide into the gutter.

After a torturous day, I needed a stiff drink to tame my stiff cock. I’m still in the same fucking predicament. At least Keira is nowhere near to witness my struggle.

The second we got back to the house, she declared she needed to wash off the day’s grime. She felt a little dirty from trying on clothes all day.

I didn’t argue.

I needed time to get my head screwed back on straight.

I head to the fridge and scour its contents.

We’re keeping it simple tonight.