Read Online Billionaire on Board by Dasha G. Logan - Free Book Online
Authors: Dasha G. Logan
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction
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down again.
"I hate Gorgonzola."
"Yes, me too. Hey, I asked you a question. Who does your shopping when you're at home?"
"Oh." He looked up at me with those dark eyes and absentmindedly brushed a streak of hair from my face.
"Mainly the Ocean."
Yes, dear readers, I felt exactly like you just did.
Seven
In the end Ryan bought nearly half the supermarket, claiming his intent to produce what he called a "Caribbean Sushi".
The Maybach drove the one hundred and twenty yards to my flat in exactly twenty-three seconds. The amount of goods my imaginary lover had purchased made a pedestrian transfer outright impossible.
"Who's going to eat all this?"
"You can be happy somebody's filling up your fridge."
"Yes. My fridge will be full with one tenth of what you bought, what do I say, the entire kitchen will be stuffed to the ceiling. I'll have to ask everybody in the building to take in a family of mangoes."
"Stop exaggerating. Your store's really well stocked, by the way."
"Yes."
Once we were inside, Ryan started on a sightseeing tour which was a short affair, since there was only one sitting room, one tiny bedroom, one balcony, one bathroom and one kitchen.
"I like it," was his verdict. "Warm and amply furnished. Just like its tenant."
"Owner." I somehow thought pointing it out was important.
"It is a pretty small kitchen," Ryan admitted when he shoved the grocery bags inside.
"You can't say I didn't warn you."
"Okay, why don't you hop into something more comfortable while I start the chopping. I'm sure I'll find whatever I need. It's not as if there were too many places to look for things."
"Right. I think it's better if I don't watch this anyway."
I walked into my bedroom and closed the door. I fell onto my knees and bit into the mattress to muffle the shriek building itself up inside of me ever since Ryan had first kissed me on board of the Heidi.
"Okay, good. Perfect." I stood up and opened the wardrobe.
I was certainly aware something more comfortable was the Hollywood euphemism for a transparent negligee but I decided to take him by his word and pulled on the largest hooded sweater I could find and combined it with equally large track pants.
I returned to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame with my arms crossed.
He looked up from whatever he was chopping.
"Looks very comfortable indeed."
"It is."
"Now, Buttercup, normally we'd pick up a movie, right? But we haven't been to the rental place."
"I have on-demand TV."
"Cool. So what should we watch? From your predilection for the French cinéma I'd suggest something from Claude Chabrol. What's your favourite movie?"
"Hmmm…"
This was not the moment to say "Love… Actually" because if he asked why, I would have had to confess it was mostly for Rodrigo Santoro being naked, which would hint to another predilection of mine… for a certain type of man. You know, tall, dark, lithe… not unlike a certain person currently slicing garlic in my kitchen.
"I don't know really… I watch a lot of movies."
"Artsy stuff, I'm sure."
"No," I protested, blushing a bit. "Mostly action movies and thrillers. Sci-fi…"
"Like Iron Man?"
"Yes, like Iron Man, in fact I love Iron Man no matter what anybody says."
"Yes!" He made a striking movement, knife in hand, causing me to dive out of the kitchen. "Let's watch Iron Man!"
In different circumstances I would have ravished the Caribbean Sushi and I valiantly fought down a large enough amount of the delicious stuff, but the question whether Ryan Corvera-Fabergé was actually planning to ravish me and - if so - what my reaction to a ravishing attempt should be, was decidedly weakening my appetite.
But why on earth should I deny myself what would probably be the best sex I was ever going to get with the best looking man I was ever going to meet?
So far it looked more and more unlikely anyway.
He had neither kissed, nor touched me or in any way done
"I hate Gorgonzola."
"Yes, me too. Hey, I asked you a question. Who does your shopping when you're at home?"
"Oh." He looked up at me with those dark eyes and absentmindedly brushed a streak of hair from my face.
"Mainly the Ocean."
Yes, dear readers, I felt exactly like you just did.
Seven
In the end Ryan bought nearly half the supermarket, claiming his intent to produce what he called a "Caribbean Sushi".
The Maybach drove the one hundred and twenty yards to my flat in exactly twenty-three seconds. The amount of goods my imaginary lover had purchased made a pedestrian transfer outright impossible.
"Who's going to eat all this?"
"You can be happy somebody's filling up your fridge."
"Yes. My fridge will be full with one tenth of what you bought, what do I say, the entire kitchen will be stuffed to the ceiling. I'll have to ask everybody in the building to take in a family of mangoes."
"Stop exaggerating. Your store's really well stocked, by the way."
"Yes."
Once we were inside, Ryan started on a sightseeing tour which was a short affair, since there was only one sitting room, one tiny bedroom, one balcony, one bathroom and one kitchen.
"I like it," was his verdict. "Warm and amply furnished. Just like its tenant."
"Owner." I somehow thought pointing it out was important.
"It is a pretty small kitchen," Ryan admitted when he shoved the grocery bags inside.
"You can't say I didn't warn you."
"Okay, why don't you hop into something more comfortable while I start the chopping. I'm sure I'll find whatever I need. It's not as if there were too many places to look for things."
"Right. I think it's better if I don't watch this anyway."
I walked into my bedroom and closed the door. I fell onto my knees and bit into the mattress to muffle the shriek building itself up inside of me ever since Ryan had first kissed me on board of the Heidi.
"Okay, good. Perfect." I stood up and opened the wardrobe.
I was certainly aware something more comfortable was the Hollywood euphemism for a transparent negligee but I decided to take him by his word and pulled on the largest hooded sweater I could find and combined it with equally large track pants.
I returned to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame with my arms crossed.
He looked up from whatever he was chopping.
"Looks very comfortable indeed."
"It is."
"Now, Buttercup, normally we'd pick up a movie, right? But we haven't been to the rental place."
"I have on-demand TV."
"Cool. So what should we watch? From your predilection for the French cinéma I'd suggest something from Claude Chabrol. What's your favourite movie?"
"Hmmm…"
This was not the moment to say "Love… Actually" because if he asked why, I would have had to confess it was mostly for Rodrigo Santoro being naked, which would hint to another predilection of mine… for a certain type of man. You know, tall, dark, lithe… not unlike a certain person currently slicing garlic in my kitchen.
"I don't know really… I watch a lot of movies."
"Artsy stuff, I'm sure."
"No," I protested, blushing a bit. "Mostly action movies and thrillers. Sci-fi…"
"Like Iron Man?"
"Yes, like Iron Man, in fact I love Iron Man no matter what anybody says."
"Yes!" He made a striking movement, knife in hand, causing me to dive out of the kitchen. "Let's watch Iron Man!"
In different circumstances I would have ravished the Caribbean Sushi and I valiantly fought down a large enough amount of the delicious stuff, but the question whether Ryan Corvera-Fabergé was actually planning to ravish me and - if so - what my reaction to a ravishing attempt should be, was decidedly weakening my appetite.
But why on earth should I deny myself what would probably be the best sex I was ever going to get with the best looking man I was ever going to meet?
So far it looked more and more unlikely anyway.
He had neither kissed, nor touched me or in any way done
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