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In the back of my mind, I remember the oh-so-important fact that the girls and I are supposed to leave today. My plane leaves in a little over two hours.
“My flight is after lunch,” I stutter as he sucks my breasts.
I moan from the luxuriating feel of his tongue swirling around my nipples, tasting me.
“Fuck it. I’ll book you another one.”
“What?”
“Just shut up and let me fuck you.”
This is crazy, but the kind of crazy I can’t fight. He parts my legs, lines his cock up with my entrance, and plunges deep inside me, claiming me again.
* * *
We don’t leave the bed for pretty much the whole day, and he doesn’t leave my body. It gets dark, and I think we drag ourselves away from each other because he has to leave.
I don’t think there was another reason, or I’d still be beneath him in that bed.
At nine p.m., he helps me get my stuff from my room and takes me down to the lobby to see me off. I’m booked on the eleven-o’clock flight. The last plane leaving for to Charlotte tonight.
As I look at him, I can’t believe I’m not going to see him again.
We stare at each other, and it comes to that natural pause where things should end, but I don’t want to let go.
“You didn’t have to pay for my flight,” I say with a little smile, recalling how he insisted on paying because he kept me with him all day.
“Bellezza, I can’t help it. I’m the kind of man who takes care of his woman.” He takes my hand and plants a kiss on my knuckles while keeping his eyes on me.
I giggle like a schoolgirl, and I can feel my body blushing, too.
“That’s good to know, and thanks.”
“Anything for you.”
I gaze back at him and stare deep into his eyes at the maddening cacophony of emotion. There’s so much in there, I can’t quite figure him out. However, what gets me every time I look at him is that spark. It lurks and peeks as if it’s waiting to emerge from the corner it’s hiding in.
“You’re just…” My voice trails off as I stop myself from telling him I find him fascinating. It’s too forward, and this is the end. There’s no point.
“What?” He presses is luscious lips together.
“Different,” I decide to say, almost sounding dreamingly. My stomach does a little flutter when his smile widens.
“I am different. But… not different in a good way.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” His dark eyes take me in with contemplation. “I don’t think you’d like me that much if you knew how different I was.”
Danger—I sense it. That’s what he means, and it should terrify me, yet part of me craves it in him because I’m the moth drawn to a flame.
I also can’t imagine not liking every aspect of a man who could treat me so well.
“I don’t believe that.” I borrow his words from last night, and he brushes his thumb over my cheek.
“My number is in your phone.”
“Is it?”
