Page 87 of Serving the Mogul

“That’s better.”

I tipped my head back. “What is?”

“You are smiling. Laughing.” He pressed his lips to my brow, then nudged me back so he could start opening containers. “You had shadows in your eyes when I came up the steps. Is everything okay?”

I debated what to say if anything. Were we in the kind of relationship where we shared personal things?“It’s family stuff.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Part of me did want to, yes. But I shook my head.

“No.” Managing a strained smile, I cut into the pasta dish. “I’d rather forget about it for a while, to be honest.”

“If you change your mind, I’m here.”

“Thanks.”

We ate in serene silence for a few minutes, and I ate almost half the pasta. The food was delicious.

As I put my fork down and placed the foil-lined lid on my leftovers, I smiled at James. “That beats ham and cheese any day.”

“Glad to hear it.” He crooked a finger at me.

My mouth went dry as I caught sight of the lambent heat in his eyes. Slowly, I slid off the stool and went to him.

He hooked his hand in the front of the tool belt I wore and tugged me in closer. “I have this vague memory of my sisters rambling on about hot guys wearing just jeans and tool belts. I never got it until I saw you wearing one.”

The feel of his knuckles pressing into my belly sent shivery, warm streaks of need bursting through me.

“Is that so?”

“Hmmm.” Eyes on my mouth, he gripped my ass with his free hand, molding the flesh, kneading with absolute confidence. “Matter of fact, I’m thinking about stripping these jeans off you and bending you over the stool right here. How long do you think your crew will be gone?”

My mind short-circuited.

“Tina?”

“Um…” Blinking and thinking through the sensual fog, I picked up my phone and checked the time. I had asked Tank when they would return. “We’ve got a good twenty minutes. They walked to the place—ohhh…hmmm…”

James crushed his mouth to mine, swallowing the rest of what I’d been saying.

With quick, clever fingers, he undid my jeans and shoved them down until they were a few inches below my hips. With no warning, he reached down and slid his fingers between my thighs. I tried to spread my thighs and couldn’t, the sturdy denim of my jeans an effective restraint.

James spanked me, the flat of his hand coming down on my ass with a sharp sting. “Be still. I want you just like this, Tina.”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered against his lips.

“Good little Kitten.” He circled his thumb over my clitoris, smiling as I jerked. But when I tried to push against his hand for more, he stopped. “Turn around and bend over. Grab the legs of the stool.”

Panting, I did as he ordered. My heart skipped a beat as I heard the rasp of his zipper. With shaking hands, I gripped the legs of the stool. He did nothing for long, long seconds, and I flushed at the sheer vulnerability of my position.

“How do you feel right now, Tina?” he asked softly.

“Exposed.”

“Does it bother you, exposing yourself to me like this?” He smoothed his hand down the curve of my right ass cheek.

“I…” Swallowing, I considered the question for several long seconds before breathing out the answer. “In a way…yes. But it’s not abadway.”

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