Page 27 of Untouchable Billionaire (The Hardcore Novels: Special Editions #1)

"Oh, yes, dear, what can I do for you?"

"Listen, I was wondering if you could tell me what day Mr. Moore is moving in? I thought it would be nice to take him a welcome gift."

"Oh, sweetie, that is so thoughtful of you. You know how military men are. They are always being uprooted and all."

He's active-duty military.

" A welcome gift is such a nice idea. You know I stayed late yesterday talking to him. He was waiting to see you, but he had to leave before you made it home."

"There was a herd of cows on the expressway, and I was stuck in traffic. I hate I missed him."

"He is quite smitten with you, dear. He was trying to get information on you."

"What did he want to know?"

"If you were on a short-term or long-term lease."

"He did? Did he say why he wanted to know?"

"No. You know how pilots are. Well, maybe you don't, but they are very concise communicators. He didn't say why, but he must have a reason for asking. My first husband was a helicopter pilot too."

He's a helicopter pilot! That's dope!

She continues, "It was very frustrating talking to my husband. I was always playing 20 questions to pry information out of him. It didn't last. We divorced after…."

I clear my throat.

"Oh dear me, I didn't mean to rattle on. Where was I?"

"You were about to tell me how long a lease he signed."

"Oh, yes. He took the 3-month lease, which I thought was curious."

"Why was that curious?"

"Well, I must have misunderstood, you know I do get confused sometimes, but I could have sworn he told me his buddy coming in for training would need a year lease. Well, anyway, it doesn't matter really."

What? A buddy? Is he leasing the apartment for a buddy?

I try to keep the panic out of my voice. "Mrs. Smith, now I am confused. Who rented the apartment?"

"Mr. Moore."

"I know Mr. Moore rented it but for whom? His buddy or himself?" I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.

"Well, that was curious too. He put his name on the lease."

I exhale the breath I was holding and blurt out. "Fuck! You had me scared there for a moment." Then, I quickly blurt an apology. "Oh hell, I'm sorry. Please, excuse my language."

She laughs a hearty belly laugh. "My dear, Don't you worry about that. I've heard all those words before. I'm happy he rented it too. He does seem like such a nice young man, and you two would make quite a cute couple."

"Thanks, Mrs. Smith." I agree with her. "So, do you know what day he is moving in?"

"Oh, yes, your welcome gift. Today."

Today! He is moving in today! YAY! I feel those damn nervous butterflies replace the breath held in my gut, but I'm okay with that. It beats a deflated balloon.

"Do you know what time?"

"No, only that it is today, but he isn't here yet."

"Thank you, Mrs. Smith."

"You're welcome, hun. We don't do enough for our servicemen and women."

"No, ma'am, we don't."

"You know I met my first husband at the gas station by the post gate. He looked so handsome in his uniform…." She blabs on while I dial our office number from line 6. When it rings, I politely tell her I have to answer that.

The rest of my day is spent answering the phones and doodling little hearts all over my pad while Mr. Moore's face constantly floats across my mind.

At 4 o'clock, I hit the door again, all smiles and butterflies knowing that tonight I will be enjoying Merlot and cookies for supper and who knows what for dessert.

When I pull into the parking lot at 4:20, his badass truck is parked next to my usual space, which is empty, so I whip right in—Showtime in fifteen.

Walking into the lobby, I glance at the office, and Mrs. Smith is standing in the doorway. She smiles and waves, then points upstairs and gives me the 'ok' sign, and I smile back and return it—nothing like having a spy and good Intel.

Once in my place, I hum "Happy" while I change into the same tangerine outfit, put the cookies in the oven on low, and tie a blue ribbon around the wine bottle. I find a basket to transport the cookies, put them on a plate, throw a towel over them, grab the bottle of wine and float down to 9G.

At the door, I lift the towel off the cookies letting their aroma fill the air.

After several deep breaths to calm me, I raise my knuckles to knock.

Mr. Moore pulls the door open, takes a step to come out, then stops, surprised to see me.

He gives me his big beautiful smile. "Miss Wright, I missed you yesterday. "

My tummy lurches so hard I almost pee my pants. Fucking A! He is hotter than I remember! The light from the hall shines in his eyes and on his hair. They really are bright emerald green! And his sun-streaked highlights look like a halo—my mouth waters.

Managing somehow to keep my composure, I look around him into his apartment and see that it is dark. "Is this a bad time?" I ask.

As he studies my outfit, the basket on my arm, and the bottle of wine in my hand, I study his face in greater detail. His dark, almost black, angled brows accentuate his eyes to perfection. His white teeth stand out against his tanned skin and are perfectly straight. His lips….

How could I have missed his lips? They are sculpted but not plump, nor are they tight; they are Goldilocks perfect. They are just right—full, sensual. I lick my own.

He inhales the scent of the cookies. "Of course not. Please come in." He turns the lights back on and pulls the door all the way open, gesturing for me to enter.

When I walk in, I pause just inside.

"I can always find time for a beautiful woman who comes knocking on my door bearing gifts of cookies and wine."

The tone of his deep voice envelopes and caresses my ears. His hands brush my skin, and I feel the tingle he gives me as he lifts the basket off my arm, then takes the wine out of my hand.

As he walks away, I watch his perfect physique. I notice several very nice things. One, he is wearing a flight suit. Two, the flight suit shows off his perfect v-shaped body. Three, the flight suit shows off his killer, perfect, coffee-bean-shaped ass too.

When he is in the kitchen, he motions for me to join him.

"I'm sorry, but I can't enjoy a glass of this…

" He holds the wine bottle away so he can read the label.

"…fine Merlot. I am flying tonight, but I will definitely give you a raincheck.

" He sets it on the counter with the basket of cookies.

"I will be happy to devour these delicious morsels with you now, though. Would you like a glass of milk?"

I laugh to myself. Men! They are suckers for milk and cookies. I walk up to the counter, watching how comfortable he is in his new apartment. He has made himself right at home in a matter of hours.

He gestures to one of the barstools, so I sit. He grabs two lowball glasses without waiting for my answer and the milk from the refrigerator, then pours us both a glass. He stands on the opposite side, takes a cookie, dunks it in his milk, then plops it in his mouth … whole.

"Yum," He says as he closes his eyes. "Have one. They are delicious."

I stare mesmerized at his mouth working on the cookie. When he swallows, and they stop moving, I lick my own, then bite my bottom lip as they slowly begin to part, spreading over his teeth into a 'sexy as hell' smile.

I lift my eyes to find him watching me through hooded lids. The desire I see there sends a hot wave coursing through me, and I blush. Busted. I smile back. Like minds are a good thing, right?

He picks another cookie up. "Here. Like this." His intense eyes hold mine as he playfully dunks it. Then he sends more tongue to greet it, and my eyes fall to watch him lay it on his thick flat tongue.

A wave of desire crashes over me, and my breathing quickens as he slowly draws it into his mouth. I feel my own eyes hood.

Damn, he pushes my 'on' buttons.

He chuckles after he swallows it, enjoying the effect he's having on me. He hands me a cookie. "Your turn. Let me see what you can do with it."

I grin as my eyes twinkle into his. Yes! Let me show you what I can do with a cookie. I hover it over my milk, waiting for his eyes to catch up.

They linger too long on my tits, so I begin to dunk my cookie in my milk in a rhythm that matches our thoughts. His eyes shift to the milk dancing in the glass.

When the cookie begins the journey to my mouth, his eyes snap to watch my lips part.

I bare my teeth as it approaches and bite it gently, nibbling again and again.

Slowly eating it, working my lips, and teasing it with my teeth.

It takes a few seconds to consume. Then I tip my head back so my neck is fully extended and close my eyes.

I put my hand on my throat and stroke it up and down as I swallow.

I know what he is thinking, and it isn't how good that damn cookie tastes. It's how good that would feel on his cock and how deep he can shove it down my throat.

Before I open my eyes, I let my own 'sexy as hell' smile spread slowly over my teeth and acknowledge, "That was delicious!"

Picking my head up, I look straight into his eyes, confident I won that round.

His dark eyes bore into mine for several seconds and turn my flirty confidence into something much more primitive that matches his. I feel the door inside my soul unlock. Then he smiles that sexy half-smile again and challenges me. "Would you like more?"

We stare at each other with the innuendo heavy between us. I drop my eyes to stare at my milk, not seeing it. I can feel him watching me, looking for my reaction.

Should I or shouldn't I? Should I play another round, or should I let you off the hook for now? I twist the glass.

Unbeknownst to him, I'm in my element. Not only am I a stripper, but my new business venture is called Fucking Fantasies.

I glance at him, and he smirks, thinking I'm hesitating.

I really want to fuck you, Mr. Moore, so I'll play another round of this game.

I'm going to push your buttons. Let's see how much you can take.