He winks, cockiness oozing out of him. “I’m joking.”
I sigh. It’s a disappointed sigh. Hearing my shameless response, Mr. Holt’s eyes lock with mine. His gaze is primal, commanding and strong. It freezes me in place and heats my face.
My brazenness surprises even me. I’m not usually so bold, but with his self-assuredness and grace, I have no doubt he’d be extraordinary in bed: sheet-clenching, multi-orgasms, can’t-walk-straight-for-days’ sex.
My hand holding the ice trembles as I turn my gaze to anything but Mr. Holt’s sinfully handsome face.
Even without looking at him, my heart rate still quickens. I can feel him studying my profile even without seeing him.
We sit in silence for several minutes, but my awareness of his closeness is still paramount.
Once the ice has melted, I dump the wet napkin onto the countertop. I run my hand down my thigh, removing the stains the napkin left smeared on my fingers. I gulp when, in the corner of my eye, I spot Mr. Holt’s tongue delving out to lick his thumb.
I take in a shaky breath when he lifts the same spit-covered thumb to my right eye.My pupils widen, shamefully exposing my arousal to his touch. Suddenly, he stiffens, and his nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. When his eyes pop back open, they’re darker, demanding, and even more alluring than before.
A short time later, our intense stare-down is interrupted by the shrill of a cell phone. With his eyes darting between mine, Mr. Holt slides his sleek phone out of his dark gray trousers pocket.
“Yes.” His tone alludes to his authority.
“Shit,” I murmur when I notice the time on his Rolex watch. I only have twenty minutes before the check-in for my flight closes.
"Thank you for your assistance, but I must go, or I’ll miss my flight.”
I snag my satchel off the countertop and push off my barstool. Mr. Holt seizes my wrist before I can dash for the exit. He advises his caller to wait before he lowers his phone from his ear. In silence, his eyes once again appraises my face as his spare hand runs along my arched brow.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” His concerned tone forces my lips to curve into a smile.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” I reply graciously.
With reluctance, he relinquishes my wrist from his grasp. After exhaling a long, tedious breath, I hotfoot it to the exit doors of the business class lounge, not once glancing back at the mysteriously captivating Mr. Holt.
2
Isabelle
As I splash water on my face to calm the heat spread across my cheeks, I take in my disheveled appearance. My eyes are wide and bright, my massively dilated pupils making them appear darker than usual. Sunbathing for hours has given my beige skin a vivid glow, meaning the hue of my cheeks is less illuminating on my sun-kissed skin, and my lips are plump from the sting of whiskey.
I want to say my rouged appearance isn’t entirely based on the enthralling Mr. Holt, but that would be a lie. At least my clumsy display in front of the most self-assured man I’ve ever met warranted a moment of reprieve from my panicked state. I’ve barely thought about my fear of flying the past thirty minutes.
After exhaling a deep breath, I hook my satchel over my shoulder and pull open the heavily weighted door of the ladies’ restroom. I rush toward my departure gate, hustling to avoid being late since my run-in with Mr. Holt has left my time stretched thin. I swerve, dart and weave between thousands of commuters who appear just as frantic as me.
By the time I make it to my departure gate, my nape is drenched with sweat, and my cheeks are blemished. I blow an unruly hair out of my face before handing my ticket to the immaculately dressed airport staff member behind the counter. Her top lip snarls as her eyes roam my flustered appearance.
“It’s not as it seems,” I stammer.
A tsk escapes her lips as her slit gaze lowers to the computer monitor on her desk. With my bright-eyed expression and flushed cheeks, my appearance could be mistaken for someone who just tumbled out of bed after a night of rigorous activities.
I wouldn’t mind being reprimanded if that was the cause of my late arrival. After all, it’s been a while since I’ve seen my sexually satisfied face in the vanity mirror, but that’s not the reason I’m arriving at the departure gate without a minute to spare. It was my disastrous run-in with the most strikingly handsome man I’ve ever met that has me scampering.
Once my ticket is thrust back into my hand, I head down the gangway. The clanging of my knees becomes more apparent with every step I take. I focus my attention on the male flight attendant standing at the end of the corridor, hoping his light blue eyes that pop right off his face will distract me enough I board without incident.
They do—somewhat.
My hand tremors when I give him my ticket. “Good afternoon, Ms. Brahn,” he greets me while ripping my ticket in half.
I fleetingly smile. I’ve lost the ability to speak now that fear has once again emerged from deep within.
“Today you’re seated in 1A. Upon entering, take a left at the second corridor.” He hands me back one half of my ticket.
