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But not today. No.
Shit. Damn thing’s a half-hour early, already landed which means Mr. What-his-name is most likely still waiting or has caught a cab home by now anyway.
Not having his number doesn’t exactly help either, aside from the fact he still doesn’t have a name.
Parking at the newly extended airport isn’t an issue, but paying for it is.
I can see why dad left so much money for this little trip of mine, calculating the huge hole left in my wallet once I pay for parking.
And gas by the time we’re done here. The needles in the red.
Thanks, dad.
I find a space close to the terminal entrance and move as quickly as I can towards the escalators directly by the huge glass sliding doors.
I stab a grunt as I check the time again, which only seems to slow the escalator stairs even more.
The faster I try to move, the slower everything gets, with what looks like a group of elderly tourists blocking the path just when I think I’m making some progress after getting lost on the way between escalators.
The newest part of the airport has great white arches spanning the huge ceilings, stretching and yawning across what looks like a football field of ant-sized people. Shadows swallowed by gleaming cream-colored flooring and eerily reflected in smoked glass and brushed steel.
Whoever designed the place has obviously never been in a hurry, and may well have needed glasses but I find the international arrivals gate exactly forty minutes late.
There’s nobody here, save a guy who doesn’t fit the description of my man who’s pushing a floor buffer over what looks like a half-acre of work ahead of him. His head nodding in slow time to his ear pods.
I close my eyes, taking a breath in a desperate attempt not to scream, cry, or both once I realize I’ve come all this way and spent all this money for nothing.
As quickly as the feeling comes, it’s gone again as I feel a set of eyes on me from behind and a very different feeling comes over me.
A kind of shiver runs through my whole body, and before I even turn around or begin to get up the courage to turn I know my man has found me.
At least, I hope it’s the guy.
I’ll take that cologne scent, in my memory, to my grave even if it isn’t him though.
Whatever he’s wearing makes me feel like...
Well. It makes me feel like everything they say a good cologne should but never does.
This one definitely does and I become aware of how flushed in the face I am, suddenly shy as I feel my nipples stiffen with arousal.
It’s not just the scent either, it’s the man wearing it.
That’s why I’m suddenly too scared to even turn around, suddenly so self-conscious of my butt.
Wishing I was wearing something a little more flattering than jeans, flats, and a sweater.
Hoping it is him.
His deep voice is the sweetest bait, turning me on my heel as he speaks and reels me in. Hook, line, and sinker.
“You look like someone who’s lost or looking for somebody.” He observes. A slight curl of his lip and a sureness of himself as he cocks a brow. Shamelessly running his eyes up and down my body.
Only stopping his scan by instinct at the places I feel flushing with heat and stiffen under his powerful gaze.
A little moan, more like a whimper is the only thing to escape my lips as I have no trouble taking in his massive appearance.
My eyes dart from his to his thick muscled chest. His ample pant bulge, taking in those cut thighs through tailored suit pants before rushing back to meet his penetrating stare.
A low sound reaches my ears, like the low rumble of a distant jet landing or taking off.
It’s with a shudder now more than a shiver that I realize it’s him making the sound that travels to all the places his eyes have already set aflame.
I feel dizzy for a second and clear my throat, remembering why I’m here.
“I’m Krystal,” I rasp, straining to find some saliva in my throat.
All the rest of my body’s wetness has migrated south, leaving my mouth and throat very dry and giving my voice a husky edge I don’t mean to.
“Blake Mason,” he says, a matter of fact. A little smoke in his own deep voice.
He flashes a smile that seems to push me back it’s so freaking perfect on the one hand, but it draws me in at the same time.
If his dark eyes aren’t enough, that winning smile convinces me instantly I’m not dealing with any ordinary man.
My dad’s little joke about them looking similar makes sense now, they’re so unalike. But I’m not laughing.
I’m trying to swallow and stand like my knees aren’t about to give way just at the sight of him.
