Page 89 of Off Limits Mogul

I lean in, my lips flirting with her ear. “You lookravishing, and if I didn’t think we’d draw too much attention, I’d kiss the hell out of you.”

I pull away and take pleasure at the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“It’s the new me… courtesy of you,” she says. “Two and a half days of shopping? A girl can’t ask for much more. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” Her sincerity is touching. “And thanks for the compliment.” She smiles. “You look pretty hot yourself.” She eats me up with her eyes. “You wear a suit so well you should be forced to walk around with a license.”

I laugh. “Thanks, but I’m not the one causing heads to turn. You are.” I wave a finder up and down her body. “I love everything about the new look.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“Check this out. Pockets!” She slides her phone out. From the way her hand shakes, I’m guessing she’s a little nervous. “If tuxedos have pockets, cocktail dresses should receive the same treatment.”

“You’re hilarious, as usual.”

“There’s nothing usual about tonight.”

“You’re right,” I say. “The new hair color suits you.”

“Thanks. That took a lot of convincing.”

“Why the reticence?”

“In a city like LA, being a blonde is a foregone conclusion. It’s something that never appealed to me. According to Phoebe’s hairdresser, blonde is the only way to go with my short hair. He was adamant. Both Arianne and Phoebe had to lobby pretty hard.”

Her shapeless cut has been replaced with a cover model hairstyle––short and tapered in the back with longer layers on the top of her head.

Unable to resist, I comb my fingers through her silky soft strands. “I love the hair.”

“I love it, too.”

“The blonde brings out the gold in your hazel-green eyes,” I say. “And the purple and gold shades of your eye shadow make your eyes pop like crazy.”

“I agree,” she says in a small voice.

“Are you turning shy on me?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Come on, you’ve known me forever.”

“I have a thousand butterflies fluttering in my belly. I’m that nervous,” she says. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

Tracing her chin with my fingertip, I say, “It’s happening, dimples.”

She places a hand over mine, and smiles.

“This dress on you…” I let my words trail as my gaze travels down the length of her body, appreciating every delicious inch of her.

Keira is clad in a hot pink dress with thin spaghetti straps and a seductive neckline that showcases the swell of her breasts. The bodice fits her slender body to perfection. The lower part of the dress flares out. Everything she’s wearing is on point.

“It’s such a departure from the super skimpy outfits I used to wear on stage or in our videos,” she says. “I was told this is a midi length because the hem hits me mid-calf. I feel feminine in this dress.”

I lean into her. “You look smoking hot in it.” I murmur in her ear. “I can’t wait to find out which of the French Appliqué lingerie you’re hiding underneath it.”

“That’s quite the conversation starter,” she says, fanning her face.

“Let’s sit down.”