Page 50 of Serving the Mogul

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Listen, son. I just heard from Scot. He mentioned he texted you about coming to Houston to visit, so I thought maybe we could all get together. Perhaps a fishing trip, if you have time.”

My gut instinct was to say no.

But I’d learned to hold back on that. I couldn’t endlessly blame Connor Maximus for how shitty things had been for my mother and me.

“I’ll check my schedule.”. As you know, my new hotel keeps me busy. If we don’t have time to fish, we can definitely grab dinner together.”

“Heck yeah, that sounds swell.”

The happiness in his tone made me uncomfortable. Rushing to change the subject, I asked, “How is everybody doing?”

“Good, good.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of your hotel, I went by earlier this week to look around. What a gorgeous place, son. You did amazing.”

And now I was even more uncomfortable because I realized I was a little proud of myself.

“Thanks.” Clearing my throat, I said, “I don’t want to jump off the phone, but I just finished a workout, and I’m expecting a call. I’d like to grab a quick shower first.”

“Alright. You let me know about the fishing trip—or if it’s just going to be dinner.”

“I will. Talk to you later,” I said, disconnecting before he could say anything else.

I stood staring out the window over the rolling fields of the property that surrounded my home outside of Houston.

It had been roughly ten hours since I’d dropped Tina off. Ten hours since she’d told me she needed time to think. I hadn’t heard from her since.

I wanted to go after her and knew I couldn’t.

She needed time.

She needed space.

I needed her.

Blowing out a breath, I closed my eyes. “Patience, Maximus.”

* * *

Saturday went.Still no word from Tina.

Sunday, I was up at the crack of dawn. After prowling around the house for hours, I climbed into my favorite sports car and hit the road.

If I kept pacing, I’d go nuts.

Speeding down the old highway with the convertible top down and music blasting, I tried not to think about how many hours had passed since I’d dropped her off.

Not even a goodbye kiss, just her lips on my cheek and the news she needed time and space. To think.

I’d pushed her too hard. Hadn’t I?

But the look in her eyes, the way she’d come around me, so fucking tight and wet. She enjoyed it. The press of her short, neat nails in my thighs as she’d greedily licked and sucked my dick, then slowly took me deeper, the hesitant moves making it obvious she was walking on uncertain ground. And she’d been so damned aroused by everything, kneeling in front of me, letting me fuck her mouth, then slowly taking the lead when I ceded control.

The spark in her eyes at the club Friday night. That, too, haunted me. She’d been so hot and ready it’d been torture just dancing with her.

Did I push too far?

Was it the condom? Being in such a greedy rush for her, I forgot something so basic…had that been the problem?

She made me lose my mind a little every time I touched her. The last time I’d been that careless about sex, I was a teenager. Had I scared her off with my recklessness?

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