3
My knee bobs up and down as I glance at the business-class bathroom for the umpteenth time in the past twenty minutes. Isabelle hasn’t left the restroom since she bolted for it not long after takeoff. Although I could pretend her wish to hide isn’t grating my last nerve, my agitation is too deviant to ignore.
She let me clutch her throat without a single hesitation dampening her bright eyes, so why is she bowing out now? Believe me, there are far worse things I could have done to her than pulling back when I did, and I doubt they would have impacted the many improper thoughts that filled my head when she licked her lips in preparation for our kiss.
I want her. My yearning almost defies all rational thinking, but I must remain cautious. I’ve been burned in the past, so I’ll do everything in my power to skip a second scorching. It isn’t cowardly or unmanly to be vigilant. It’s smart…even with it feeling like it’s killing me.
I internally battle my conflicts for another three minutes before the overwhelming urge to claim Isabelle overtakes any sense of normality. I’m out of my seat in an instant. The thuds of my polished dress shoes down the aisle are so loud, my race for the washroom isn’t just eyeballed by the air hostess who offered to refill my whiskey four times since Isabelle vaulted over my thighs, but by numerous guests have also spotted my sprint.
They probably think I’ve left Isabelle waiting this long because I’m panicked about beingtskedby the flight attendants. That couldn’t be further from the truth, and if they knew me at all, they wouldn’t doubt my reply. A slap on the wrist doesn’t deter anyone. It is the reason my punishments are more deviant than that. I’m not cruel by any means, but if you hurt my family or those I love, you’d be wishing I were.
I curse under my breath when a sticker on the highly varnished restroom door sets my plan back by a couple of days. It advises the washroom has hygiene facilities for women.
The reminder Isabelle is on her period prompts me to what my objections were before memories of my deceased girlfriend convinced me I must live a miserably bleak existence.
Although that was the plan up until two hours ago, it isn’t sufficient anymore. You need oxygen in your veins to live, but you also need purpose.
This afternoon is the first time in a long time I’ve remembered that.
I work hardformy empire.
I fightformy empire.
And I live solelyformy empire.
That needs to change, and I could very well see Isabelle helping me do that. She has me all types of conflicted, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. A change is as good as a holiday, and I’m well overdue for one of them.
With a new plan sorted and my confidence somewhere back near what it was when I raced down the aisle, I tap my fight-scarred knuckles on the polished washroom door.
“Just a minute,” Isabelle says a couple of seconds later, her voice startled.
My lips tug at the corners when neither the washroom sink nor the familiarwhooshof an airplane toilet sounds from the bathroom before the latch switches from red to green.
Assuming I’m one of the many other flyers seated in her section, Isabelle attempts to sidestep me. Her efforts are thwarted when our eyes collide for the briefest second. As her dilating pupils darken her eyes with desire, her lips part to suck in shallow breaths.
Her surprised face is almost as ravishing as the hope in her eyes that I’m here to collect restitution for my earlier tease. In a way, I am. It just won’t be while we’re thirty thousand feet in the air.
Maintaining a rational head is all I know. I’ve sold businesses in the millions, dragged others out of a sea of red they should have drowned in, and have netted myself an extremely enticing amount of capital in only six short years, but all that logic flies out the window when Isabelle moans from my step into the bathroom. I’d give it all away in an instant just for the opportunity to hear it one more time.
That is ludicrous to admit and has me rather worried someone spiked my drink.
“Why are you hiding in the bathroom?” My voice is thicker than usual, borderline snappy. I’m not frustrated with Isabelle, but I am shocked about how quickly she knocked down my defenses. A man who has been burned as often as me shouldn’t be so open to the possibility of additional scars, but it can’t be helped. Not when it comes to a woman as captivating as Isabelle. It isn’t solely an attraction, either. I’m dying to unearth the secrets in her eyes as well.
I slant my head to the side and arch a brow when Isabelle mumbles, “I’m not hiding.”
We’ve only just met. However, I know she’s lying.
Seconds tick by at a rate three times slower than normal when my glare instigates an intense gray-eyes-versus-brown-eyes, lust-fueled stare-off. Her gall is both amusing and arousing. Men quiver in their boots when they’re subjected to my rueful glare. Isabelle gobbles it up as if it is candy. My cock hardens, imagining what else she’d swallow down just as eagerly. It sits heavy against the zipper in my pants, embarrassingly firm to the point it appears capable of breaking the zipper.
I divert my stare before my cock ruins the trousers my tailor only delivered last week. It does little good. Isabelle’s Cupid’s bow lips are one of her most tempting features, and when they raise into a smile, they have a man believing it’s okay to make a mess in his pants.
While scrubbing at my jaw, muted with disgust about my confession, I dig a business card out of the pocket of my trousers, eager to move on to the next stage of my plan. It’s no easy feat with how hard I am. The pleat in my trousers no longer exists, and the victorious gleam pumping out of Isabelle’s eyes is solely responsible for it.
With my astuteness up and vanished, I stick with the well-versed script I generally utilize when seeking a woman to warm my sheets for a night. “I don’t have time for relationships.”
The throb pulsating through my cock matches the thumps of my heart when Isabelle replies, “That’s okay, neither do I.”
Her response wasn’t what I was anticipating, but I played it to my advantage. “If we do this, you need to be aware it’s a one-time-only deal. There won’t be any calls in the morning, no dates next week.One time only.”
