Page 37 of Billionaire Bachelor

Logan: *incoming video

I gasp when I see his big hand wrapped around his perfect cock in the thumbnail image. I quickly save the video, then delete it from our text thread so it doesn’t tempt me.

Dear God, how am I supposed to get any work done now, knowing that’s sitting on my phone just waiting for me?

Logan: What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?

Logan: You’re dying to watch it, aren’t you? Maybe lock yourself in the office bathroom to rub one out while you do? Make sure you turn the volume up.

For fuck’s sake. I need to end this conversation before I wind up doing exactly that.

Me: I hate you.

Logan: No you don’t. You just hate the fact that you’ll be painfully aroused for the rest of your workday.

Me: Not helping, asshole.

Logan: All right, all right. I’ll be good.

Logan: Seriously though, I miss you, Pip.

Me: Imiss you, too.

Logan: Now get your ass back to work.

I smirk as I think of a way to get him back for making me so randy at work.

Me: Yes, sir. Permission to change my horribly damp panties first, sir?

Logan: *Groans AGAIN* Anyone ever tell you that you play dirty?

Me: Anyone ever tell you that you talk dirty?

Logan:

I laugh.

Me: BTW I was just kidding earlier. I’m not wearing any panties.

Me: Gotta go now. *Byyyyyyyyeeeeee GIF*

Logan: You’re evil. You’re also getting a spanking the next time I see you.

I bite my lip, my heart quickening as anticipation swirls in my chest. God, it’s only been a day since we last had sex, but my body is acting like it’s been a damn month. What is this man doing to me? I’ve never been this ridiculously horny before.

My eyes widen when I glance at the clock and see that I only have an hour to go. I really do have to get my ass in gear if I want to get out of here in time. But before I do, I add a note on my running to-do list:

Charge ALL the toys

14

LOGAN

The sharp dingof the elevator’s arrival pulls my focus from the scuff on my new biker boots. It took me one night—just one—before I couldn’t stand being in that cabin anymore. I told myself I could use the time in Tahoe to clear my head, to plan the next steps for the company without the distractions of LA. But everywhere I turned, I found traces of Rosie—her vanilla perfume lingering in the air, the faint scent of her coconut shampoo on the sheets, and the fuzzy socks she’d left behind—each one a stark reminder of how much I missed her. There was no way I would’ve been able to concentrate.

Leaning against the wall outside her apartment, my pulse kicks up as the elevator doors slide open, hoping she’s finally back from work. A jolt of electricity races through me as Rosie steps out, her head bowed slightly while she rummages through her oversized handbag. I’m already at half-staff as I shamelessly give her a once-over. I don’t think I’ve seen her in business attire before, and I’m realizing what a shame that is.

The sleek black pencil skirt she’s wearing hugs her curves in all the right places, and the silk of her sleeveless pink blouse showcasesher full breasts, the color a perfect contrast to her golden skin. Her long, dark hair sways as she moves, curling softly over her shoulders, while what appears to be a blazer is folded neatly over her arm. And those heels—black, sky-high, and utterly devastating—click against the tile with a rhythm that demands attention.