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“Because they’re a fantasy,” I whisper with my eyes closed. “And you’re a real-life player who has probably had sex with ten million women.”
“It’s nine and a half million, don’t get carried away.”
I laugh out loud and so does he. Our eyes hold each other’s and he picks up my hand and kisses it with an unsaid affection. It’s not forced and it doesn’t feel wrong.
Elliot Miles is fun.
I like this game we’re playing . . . although I have no idea what it’s called or whether it has any rules.
All I know is that the playing field is in the Canary Islands and I’m going to have a good week. Probably the best.
I smile as I look out of the window, but sadly, I get the feeling Elliot is going to give me the hangover of all hangovers.
The high will be worth the fallout . . . I think.
“Would you like a top-up, sir?” the stewardess asks. I never did get her name. Although I must admit, with every glass of champagne her pining eyes over Elliot get a little more annoying.
He’s taken, bitch.
Okay, he’s not taken. But he is today and . . . for the next week, so back off already.
“No thank you, Clarise. We are going to retire,” he replies casually.
“Oh.” She nods as if taken aback. “Yes, of course.” She turns. “Call me if I can be of any service.” She walks into her room and closes the door behind her.
“I will.” His eyes return to me as amusement flashes across his face.
“Not funny,” I reply, deadpan. She will never be of any service; how dare he even joke about that.
He stands and holds his hand out for me.
I frown. “What are you doing?”
“Retiring.”
“From what?”
“Here.” He drags me to my feet and pulls me to the back of the plane, and opens the double door that reveals a luxurious bedroom with a huge bed.
A bed . . . a bed . . . what’s a fucking bed doing here?
My eyes meet his and he winks.
Horror dawns.
“No,” I whisper.
He pushes me in and closes the door behind us, and then he crash-tackles me onto the bed and crawls over me. He lifts his T-shirt off over his head and throws it to the side.
His playful smile arrests me and, for a moment, I forget where I am.
Then I remember.
“What are you doing?” I whisper in a panic as I try to escape. “Stop it, get off me,” I snap. “They’re just out there.”
His lips drop to my neck and I feel his erection as it hardens up against my stomach.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I whisper. “Elliot.” I buck to try and get him off me. “You are a bona fide sex maniac,” I stammer.
He smiles sexily and stands and tears his jeans off. He throws them and they hit the back of the door; the button makes a clanging sound and I slap my hands over my eyes. “Oh. My. God . . . What the actual fuck are you doing?” I whisper.
“Giving you a membership.” He smiles as he undoes my jeans and wrestles to pull them down.
“To what?”
“The Miles High Club.” He pulls my jeans completely off.
I laugh out loud and then slap my hand over my mouth. I hold my finger to my mouth in a sshh signal.
“You’re the one making all the noise.” He pulls my shirt off over my head, twirls it around over his head like a lasso, and bucks the bed as if riding a fake bull.
I burst out laughing as I bounce beneath him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Getting ready to moan like a bull.” He smiles as he drops and kisses me and pulls my panties off. He inhales them deeply and then hurls them at the wall. They hit the back of the door and fall on the floor, and his lips find mine again.
I imagine the snooty stewardess walking in and finding us in a compromising position. “Elliot.” My eyes widen in horror. “We can’t have sex, they’re just out there,” I whisper in a panic. “They can hear us, and you’re fucking loud, you know?”
He puts his hand over my mouth, his mouth drops, and he sucks on my nipple. “Shut up and fuck me, Landon.”
I laugh through his fingers; my eyes are wide. “Elliot.” He bites my nipple and I buck as hard as I can as arousal begins to pump through me. I can feel the heat as it warms my blood. His tongue flutters at just the right tempo. My fear of getting caught mixed with his couldn’t-care-less factor is a heady combination.
Naughty meets nice.
He nudges my legs apart with his knees, and then, as if remembering something, he bounces off me and goes to his jeans, shuffles around in the pocket, and produces a small bottle of lube and two condoms. He holds them up and wiggles his eyebrows as if he just won the lottery.
