Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,75
I’d never actually done that in my entire forty years on this planet.
Luna gripped my face, lips swollen. “Today at work, I was thinking about you so much that I dropped our industrial-sized blender and it spilled frozen bananas all over the floor. Then I spilled tea down my shirt and sent the same email four times to the same person.”
I let a slow, easy smile slide up my face. “I guess we’re on the same page.”
She returned it. “I guess we are, sir.”
I bit her lip and gave her a particularly vicious roll of my hips. “Luna, what did you mean in there about things changing?”
She threaded her fingers through my beard, tugged it hard. Just like I liked. “I’ve been learning a lot from you. I want to do what you said—doing good things but not for good media, or likes or subtle manipulation that gets fans to buy my products. I can still be… I think…” I kissed her forehead, “I want to be who I am today without losing the woman I was when I started Wild Heart.”
“Everything you’ve done is the reason Lucky Dog can stay open,” I told her.
“But I’m focused on being authentic,” Luna said. “And if we’re dating, I don’t want all of that tangled up for people online, affecting your nonprofit. Besides, the glory really should go to Lucky Dog. I’m an innocent bystander.”
“I saw your post,” I said, kissing her temple. Her ear. “You stood up for me.”
“Of course, Beck. You would do the same.”
“Are we really dating?”
How many dates was dating? We were entering territory I hadn’t walked through in years.
“Fucking me against the door in your office constitutes a second date,” she whispered.
I slipped my palm beneath her skirt, out of my mind for this woman. What time was it? When did I need to do an interview in front of twelve million people? The only thing I could register was her slick flesh, the hungry cries that fell from her lips as I stroked her gorgeous cunt.
“I can be fast,” Luna was saying, fingers flying to my belt. “Fast and quiet, which would surprise a lot of people—”
“Yo, boss?”
Luna and I went as still as statues, my palm landing over her mouth. Her eyes were laughing as I kept her pinned to the door Wes was banging on.
“Uh, yeah, Wes?”
Luna’s shoulders were shaking. I smirked at her, removed my palm but placed a finger over her lips. She bit it.
“Jimmy is here and everyone wants to know when you’re gonna be famous or whatever?”
“Right this second,” Luna called, giggling. “He’s coming.”
“Cool beans, boss. See you in a sec.”
“Cool beans,” Luna repeated to me. But I silenced her silly expression with a tender kiss, sliding my fingers into her hair to hold her in place. When we parted, she was out of breath.
“Are you around later? I need to fuck you with my mouth.”
“Come here. After everyone leaves, okay?” I set her down gently, kissing her cheek. Arranged the layers of her skirt and straightened the straps of her shirt.
“Do I look suitably ravaged?” she asked.
“Not anymore,” I said. I reached forward, took her hand. “Will you help me? With the video?”
“Of course. Anything you need.”
She brushed lint from my shirt. “Let’s go make it possible for you to rescue even more dogs, boss.”
40
Luna
In twenty minutes, I’d worked my magic in the Lucky Dog administrative offices. I arranged two black chairs in the corner that looked the least drab and dreary. Then I set up Jem as the videographer and Wes as the treats-procurer, for whenever Betty and Veronica got antsy.
Jimmy ambled into the office and I was immediately struck by his size and his all-black outfit, not to mention the tattoos that scrolled across his neck.
“Are you Betty and Veronica’s dog dad?” I asked.
His answering smile told me all I needed to know.
“Luna, your phone keeps ringing,” Jem called to me. Her green mohawk looked practically neon—although maybe that was the light flush to her cheeks. That seemed to happen whenever Wes was around now.
“It’s Jasmine. Ignore it,” I said.
Because I certainly had been. In the past two weeks, I’d lost Wild Heart its most lucrative contract, had a trashy paparazzi picture taken of me that confirmed my burgeoning relationship with a man whose family ran Miami’s most notorious crime family, and then I’d posted an inflammatory picture of myself talking about how I’d almost eaten a