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"Well, that’s good then. His security will ensure you’re safe."
"At least you’re coming at this from a practical standpoint. I’m afraid I’m too close to the situation."
There’s a knock on the door then I hear his voice, "Isla are you okay?"
"Shit, that’s Liam. I gotta go."
"You take care, and I’ll see your soon." Zara signs off.
I disconnect the call, then splash water on my face.
"Isla?" His knocks are more urgent. "If you don’t answer, I’m going to break the bathroom door down."
"I’m fine." I dry my face, drop my phone into my bag and cross over to the door. I throw it open to find Liam standing there with a scowl on his face.
He surveys my features. "Everything okay?"
"Why wouldn’t it be?" I brush past him and into the main cabin of the aircraft, then head over to the seat farthest away from his. To my annoyance, he stalks over and sits down opposite me.
"In case you haven’t noticed, there are many other empty seats on this flight," I huff
"I like this just fine." He leans back and kicks out his legs so they brush mine.
I pull my legs back and glower at him.
He presses the tips of his fingers together and surveys me.
"I envy those people who’ve never met you," I say sourly.
"And you’re not pretty enough to bethatdumb."
I gape at him, then clamp my lips shut. "You… You’re a pizza burn on the roof of the world’s mouth."
He smirks. "Someday you’ll go far; I just hope you’ll stay there.”
What the—"Can’t believe you were the sperm that won," I snap.
"That sounds like a you problem," he drawls.
I scowl. "Grab a straw because you suck."
He laughs, a spontaneous, belly laugh that wells up from somewhere deep inside. It’s so hot, such a sexy sound; my toes curl, and my stomach flip-flops. Heat flushes my veins and I can’t tear my gaze off of his features. Something shifts in the air, and his laughter dies. He looks between my eyes, then leans forward. The charge between us seems to amplify.
"I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong," he says in a low voice.
The heat under my skin seems to grow even more intense. A shiver runs down my back. I lick my lips, and his gaze drops to my mouth. He firms his jaw and a pulse throbs at his temple. He’s looking at me like I’m a morsel he can’t wait to gobble up.
I force my brain cells to fire, to form the words needed, to send impulses to my tongue to obey their direction.
"You just might be why the middle finger was invented in the first place," I whisper.
His lips quirk. The dent in his chin deepens. He reaches over, runs his knuckles down my palm.
"You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met." His warm voice flows through my veins like honey.
I squeeze my eyelids shut. "You don’t mean it."
"You can trust me, Isla."
