Page 33 of Filthy Mogul

There was so much he needed to know.

But I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

I just wasn’t made like that.

I did the only thing I could in that situation. I avoided the subject. “Did I win or lose?”

“You’re lyin’ beneath me. I’d consider that a win for me, ya feel me?”

I smirked, knowing he meant it as a double innuendo. “I didn’t even get to show you my best moves.”

He was impressed with the skills I did show, and asked, “Who taught you how to fight like that?”

“I grew up with two brothers.”

Despite this being the first thing I told him about myself, he didn’t call me out on it. Probably because he knew how hard that was for me.

“And where was that?”

I smiled. “Don’t push your luck.”

He grinned. “You owe me another confession.”

“Maybe later.”

“On our date?”

“Oh, we’re going on a date now?”

He kissed my lips. “We were always going on a date.”

“Don’t think just because you’re kissing me right now means you’re going to have the right to kiss me whenever you want.”

He kissed me again. “And how do I get that right?”

I shook my head, whispering, “Don’t fall for me, Jameson.”

“Says the woman who’s on the floor.”

The emotion…

I could touch it.

Feel it.

Taste it.

It surrounded me.

Choked me.

“Tell me your name,” he insisted.

I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that what you saw was what you got when it came to him.

What he said was what he meant.

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