Page 30 of Off Limits Mogul

That’s what I’m talking about.

For the finale, he grips the counter with both hands and pumps his hips back and forth, undulating them slow as if he’s fucking someone.

I’d mount this man like he’s a stallion and ride the everloving daylights out of him.

Another brisk hip pump as he raps a song I don’t recognize.

I’ve always been enraptured by his rich voice.

Oblivious to the way I’m checking him out, I continue to devour him with my eyes.

Lord, have mercy.

I’ve had many fantasies of Rhys’s body. Seeing him in the flesh again blows all those lustful memories to pieces. The mouthwatering man standing before me is breathtaking, and I’m lapping it up like a woman who hasn’t had a tall glass of water in a month. Stalking him online made it easy for me to ignite my wet dreams.

Rhys cracks open a bottle of water, tips his head back, and guzzles some of its contents. His tattooed arms are on full display.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Whoever said that has never cast their eyes on Rhys Hartford’s body art. In his case, a picture is worth abillionwords. The billion-dollar man is a sight for sore eyes. Since the last time I saw him shirtless, he’s added quite a few tattoos to his collection. They’re all so colorful and intricate. A few of them are homage to his late father. The rest is badass.

Is it wrong to want to lick the sweat dripping down his back with my tongue?

Yes, it’s wrong.

God, wrong feels so right.

If I had a superpower, I’d want to be able to move objects with my mind. Case in point. I’d love nothing more than to will those running shorts to drop to the floor. I doubt men run commando—I don’t think the family jewels like to dangle in the wind—so I’d also have to take the boxer briefs into consideration in my devious plan.

My eyes travel to his firm and biteable ass.

Checking out Rhys from behind as he struts is a thing of beauty. It never happens because the gentleman in him demands I walk in front of him.

This is such a treat.

My gaze brushes down his tanned, muscular legs and defined calves before settling on that yummy ass again.

God was good to you, Rhys Hartford.

I’m so busy drooling, I jerk when he turns around.

“Jesus.” The bottle he’s holding drops to the floor, splashing water all over the place. He yanks the headphones off his head and lets them drop around his neck. “What the hell are you doing standing there?”

Drooling over you.“I just entered the kitchen. You didn’t hear me walk in… headphones and all.”

“You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m sorry.”Not sorry.

“I’m not used to having someone living in my house.”

Based on what played out between us last night, I might not be here for long.

I bite back the snarky remark.

I coax the gentler Keira to come out. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

He picks up the bottle, throws it into the trash bin, and wipes the floor with some paper towels. After washing his hands, he’s standing in front of me again.