Page 31 of Damaged Mogul
I’m pissed off at you because you flare foreign desires in me.
Goddammit.
“You got it all wrong, princess.”
She studies me.
“This princess should say goodnight to her knight in shining armor.” She gazes up at me, glassy eyes wide and wanting, lips parted and waiting.
Those damn bewitching eyes.
I suppress a groan.
The message registers in my brain to get away from the temptation, but my feet won’t move.
Behind a curtain of black lashes, she fixes her gaze onto me. There’s no mistaking the lust I read there.
I breathe deep through my nose, controlling the mounting need to do dirty things to her.
“I missed earlier because you’re so tall.” She places a hand on my arm, and gets on her toes. “I was aiming for your cheek, not your chin.” Her voice is husky and low.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
My heart is beating so hard, and so is my cock.
The burning urge to claim that mouth is overwhelming.
I’m dying to kiss my way along her neck, lick her alabaster skin, and sink my teeth into her gorgeous, slender neck.
An assault of illicit thoughts flicker through my brain at the sight of thiswoman.
My cock—that’s been nonchalant about women for years—throbs for release, aching for it.
Her breath hitches, and that’s my demise.
I need to feast on this angel.
I’m about to say dammit to hell, when Fisher’s face flashes in front of my eyes, sloshing a bucket of ice-cold water over my head.
I blink to pull myself out from under her spell.
Mayday! Mayday!
Abort mission.
Do not engage.
Move away from the temptation.
I repeat, abort mission.
I swallow, my throat working.
Cock blocked by the client. Her father.
