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“She arrived a littlebitago.”
Striding farther into the jet’s cream interior, I halted when I spotted Gisele’s blonde hair tousled all over the pillow, her body curling in on the plane’s cream sofa. She was facing away from the aisle, so I couldn’t see her face. Wearing a white midriff top and silk short shorts, it became glaringly obvious she didn’t bother getting ready. The woman practically rolled out of bed and hopped on board. The plush light blue blanket barely covered her thigh—a very tonedthigh.
She lost weight.It was the first thought that came through my head.Has she been well?The next thought came, laden withguilt.
After that fated night, even though Mike had been in communication on a daily basis, I hadn’t reached out to Thomas or Gisele at all. At that time, I craved to simply get Gisele out of my mind. Shutting her and Thomas out was the only solution I could muster. Alas, I couldn’t reject Mike since the compound’s security concerned Peter’s notes, designs, blueprints, prototypes, and plans in his subterranean workplace. But on the occasion he tried to broach the subject of Gisele, I immediately cut him off, stating that I trusted himcompletely.
Seeing her resting form now, I was wondering if I had made the right decision. Worry riddled my mind as I retreated two rows out, instantly requiring space away from her. However, the seat I’d chosen faced towards the back of the jet, giving me a clear view of her slumberingfigure.
I knew she was fast asleep, but I couldn’t endure being so near her. Even with marginal distance, the air was already strained in the small space. I could only imagine what it would be like when she was awake. Would she demand answers from me? Or would she simply let bygones be bygones and carry on as though nothinghappened?
My forethoughts were kept at bay when the pilot signaled we were cleared for takeoff. While doing so, my eyes stayed on course, staring at the sleeping beauty acrossfromme.
It was some time later,when we’d leveled at a steady pace, that the stewardess strode towards Gisele, gently touching her shoulder, waking her. “MissWeber?”
Giselegrumbled.
“I’m waking you as you requested. You can safely sleep in thebedroomnow.”
Slowly lifting her upper body, she shifted as she sat, her long blond hair curtaining her sleepy face. “Thanks, Bailey,” Gisele murmured before the attendant retreated back to her station to begin preparing to serverefreshments.
My gaze took her in as she lazily stood up, slightly bending over as she gathered her blanket and pillow. The silk shorts did nothing to hide her shapely bottom, and the poor excuse of a thin cotton top bared the tightlytonedabs.
My cock instantly twitched at the sight of her body. She’d lost weight, but in the right places. Her torso got smaller, emphasizing her ample breastsevenmore.
She was well, too well for my liking. It was apparent she’d been taking good care of herself. I was sure Wyatt Rinaldi had experienced her tightness on a continuousbasis.
My ravenous eyes bore into her. After weeks of starving myself, believing I’d be immune to her as the days wore on, I knew it was pure fallacy. My body hummed. My senses became distinctly more sharpened. Wholly awakened at the mere vision of the woman I’d craved with utmostdepravity.
I stared with unnerving pause. Bombarded with every underlying debauchery provoking myresolve.
And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, Gisele was hyperaware of my presence, but she never once glanced in my direction. She unperturbedly retreated towards the back, stepping into the cabin’s bedroom and shutting herself away frommyview.
Grinding my teeth together, I was assaulted with all kinds of frustrations. Was civility out of the question, too? We’d be spending a substantial amount of time together. Surely, she didn’t intend to ignore me for days on end, or was that how she aimed this trip would turn out, us barely acknowledging each other? I let out a low grumbling groan, vexed at herimmaturity.
Damn you,Gisele.
Brooding, I submerged into my work, praying I could block the woman who harassed mythoughts.
An hour into our flight, my surly mood had taken another hit, this time an instantaneous nosedive. It plummeted down into the deep pitsofHell.
The email was from my lawyer. Apparently, Gisele’s solicitor just contacted him, ready to start the divorceproceedings.
I halted there, not bothering to finish the damning message before I slammed my laptop shut. Armed with sky-blistering rage, I dashed towards the end of the jet, set towagewar.
