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He's gone, leaving behind only the memory of our heat.
I let out a sigh, a cocktail of disappointment and irritation bubbling up inside me. I shake my head, pushing back the sheets as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Standing up, I stretch, feeling the pleasant soreness in my muscles, a physical reminder of our passionate escapade.
Stepping into the bathroom, I'm greeted by an opulence that matches the rest of the plane. The marble tiles are cool under my feet, and the fixtures gleam with a polished shine. It's like stepping into a spa, a private sanctuary in the sky.
Turning on the shower, I step under the warm spray, letting the water cascade over me. I close my eyes, letting my mind drift back to Ivan, to the way his hands felt on my skin, the way his lips moved against mine. Fantasies start to play out in my head, each scenario more tantalizing than the last.
Finally, I force myself to step out of the shower, reaching for a towel to dry off. My reflection in the mirror is a mix of flushed skin and tousled hair, the aftermath of an afternoon spent in the arms of a man who's as infuriating as he is irresistible.
As I wrap the towel around myself, a part of me is still irked with Ivan for disappearing. I can’t say I’m surprised; he’s all control and composure, even in the aftermath of passion. But another part of me, the part that's still riding the high of amazing sex, can't help but wonder what's next.
What does all of this mean for us? For me? The questions swirl in my head as I step out of the bathroom, ready to face whatever the rest of the day has in store. The adventure in Bora Bora awaits, and with it, the promise of more unexpected turns and hopefully, more moments of undeniable chemistry with my new husband.
Stepping out wrapped in the plush robe that awaited me, I can't help but feel a tad scandalous. The hem barely brushes mid-thigh, leaving a generous amount of leg on display. I catch a glimpse of the monogram JS elegantly stitched on the chest.
A smile tugs at my lips. Ivan's thoughtfulness is a sweet surprise, though I can't shake the suspicion that he might have had a secondary motive in choosing such a revealing robe.
I slip into the fuzzy slippers, their softness a welcome feeling on my feet. I’m feeling a bit like a sultry, yet cozy, version of Cinderella, as I make my way into the main cabin.
Ivan is engrossed in his laptop. He's like a statue, all chiseled lines and intense concentration.
"Working hard or hardly working, Mr. Stepanov?" I quip, leaning against the edge of the table, trying to draw his attention. "Aren't we supposed to be on our honeymoon?"
After a moment or two, he finally looks up, and his gaze immediately takes a leisurely stroll down the length of my robe-clad form. It's a look that sends a thrill of excitement through me, a reminder of the afternoon’s passion. But there's a distraction in his eyes, a hint of preoccupation that tempers the heat in his gaze.
"We won't be landing for a few more hours," he says, his voice carrying his usual brand of efficiency. "I have some work that needs my attention. Feel free to entertain yourself with the television, or you could grab your laptop if you’d like."
I raise an eyebrow, my smile still in place. "Really, Ivan? Even thirty-thousand feet in the air, you can't take a break from being CEO?" I tease, trying to lighten the mood, to bring back that spark of connection.
He offers a small, apologetic smile, but it's clear his mind is elsewhere, tangled in the webs of business and responsibility. "Duty calls, Julie. Even in the skies."
I let out a mock sigh, my hand flitting to my hip in a playful gesture. "Well, if I must be left to my own devices, I suppose I'll just have to find a way to amuse myself. But don't work too hard. Remember, we're supposed to be celebrating."
Turning away, I head toward the plush seats, my mind already racing with possibilities. Television, maybe, or perhaps diving into a good book. There's a certain allure to having this time to myself, a chance to relax and unwind in the lap of luxury.
Still, there’s a part of me that can't help but wish Ivan would close that laptop and join me, turn back into the man who kissed me so passionately just a few hours ago.
Landing on the couch with a huff, I can't shake off the feeling of being dismissed. It's absurd, really, feeling snubbed by a guy whose marriage proposal was nothing more than a business deal.
But emotions, much like the rich aroma of coffee wafting through the cabin of the plane, don't always follow logic. They linger, potent and undeniable.
Enough of this, I decide. Time to shake things up a bit, Julie. Rising from the couch, I saunter over to Ivan with purpose. He's still buried in his work, the very picture of corporate dedication.
Kneeling in front of him, I'm fully aware of how suggestive my position is, especially in this barely-there robe. I place my hand on his thigh, feeling his firm muscle beneath the fabric of his trousers. "So, Mr. Stepanov, are you planning to work the entire flight?" My voice drips with a playful challenge, my eyes locked on his.
Ivan's gaze drops to meet mine, and there's a flicker of something more than just professional interest in his eyes. It's a look that suggests he's considering all of the possibilities that could happen with me on my knees in front of him.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing my chin in a gentle caress that sends a shiver down my spine. "I need to work on the plane," he says, his voice low and resonant. "But once we reach the islands, I'll put it away. You have my word."
There's something in the way he says it—firm, yet tender—that makes me believe him. I lean in and press a quick, soft kiss to his lips, a promise of more to come. Rising, I straighten my robe, satisfied with the promise I was able to extract from him.
Ivan watches me, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The flight attendants have laid out dinner for you, whenever you're ready," he says, turning back to his laptop.
Dinner for one. Not exactly the romantic honeymoon meal I might have imagined, but then again, this isn't exactly a traditional honeymoon. I head toward the dining area, the plush carpet beneath my feet.
As I sit down at the elegantly set table, I can't help but feel a twinge of loneliness. It’s quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional click of Ivan's keyboard. It's a far cry from the passion and connection we shared just hours ago.
Even still, I can't deny the thrill that pulses through me at the thought of what awaits us in Bora Bora. The promise of tropical beaches, endless blue skies, and perhaps a chance to explore this strange, new dynamic between us.
