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RULE #22: LISTEN TO WHAT SHE WANTS
Ronan
“I don’t want to go home.” She whines from the seat next to me as our plane flies over the Atlantic.
“I’ll bring you back,” I whisper, kissing the side of her head. Her hair smells so good, like lavender and mint. It’s a scent I’ve come to love in just under a week. Everything about her is familiar to me now, like she’s imprinted herself on my skin, already a staple in my everyday life.
Something is off with Daisy today, though. I noticed it yesterday, and I’m afraid that when she says she doesn’t want to go back home, what she really means is that she doesn’t want to return to reality.
For me, I’m nervous that this dream ends in Paris, and the moment we return to our regular lives, she’ll lose interest. The novelty of a much older man will wear off and the electric connection we share will fizzle.
It’s hard to trust your emotions when luxury is involved. Is she truly that interested in me? If I couldn’t fly her in private jets or put her up in a penthouse suite, would she still see a spark between us?
On top of all of that, I’m afraid that Daisy is still dealing with so much residual trauma from losing her mother, and if that’s the case, she’s probably so desperate for an escape, she’ll do anything to get it.
Either way, I’m nervous. This week has been like a fantasy, but there’s a hard road ahead for both of us, if we’re going to turn this dream into a reality.
When the flight attendant comes by with our drinks, Daisy perks up, clutching affectionately to my arm. She clearly loves the idea of making this woman jealous, and I’m not going to stop her.
“Did you have a nice stay in Paris, Mr. Kade?” the woman asks.
“Yes, we did. Thank you.”
“Just make uponebed please,” Daisy interjects.
The attendant forces a smile as she nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
Then Daisy links her fingers with mine and grins sweetly in return. A moment later, the woman is gone, and I’m laughing to myself. It’s cute that she’s so possessive. Is she going to be like this back home? If I come into Salacious, will she still cling to my arm or will she be embarrassed to be seen with me? Being around strangers is one thing, but showing her interest in a much older man around people she knows is a different story.
“Is that how you’re going to be at Salacious?” I ask, my brow furrowed, and my voice laced with a hint of humor.
She takes a sip of her champagne and before setting it down, she scrunches up her face in contemplation. “I guess the real question is why you’re coming to the club in the first place.”
“Well, sometimes I go because I like being there. I don’t always go for the sex.”
Her brows are arched expectantly, as if she’s waiting for me to continue, so I do—because I know what it is she’s really asking. “The only person I’ll be sleeping with at the club is you, baby girl.”
Her lips tighten in a pleased smile, and I find her fingers, lacing them with my own. “Are you okay with everyone knowing that we’re together?” I ask.
“Of course,” she replies on an exhale. “Are you?”
“Fuck yes.” Leaning forward, I pull her face to mine for a kiss. There’s a heaviness to her expression now, as if it’s suddenly sinking in that she’s entering into an actual relationship with a man in his fifties. I just hope it’s excitement I’m seeing and not regret.
“So,” she whispers, “what exactly do you have in mind at Salacious?”
Oh, so we’re having this conversation now?
My cock twitches in my pants from the thought alone, so I take a long drink before replying.
With my hand on her knee, I give it a gentle squeeze. “If we start talking about this, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”
“Who said I wanted you to?” she says with a wicked grin. We’re sitting next to each other at the dining table, her hand on mine as her legs start to part ever so slightly.
“The flight attendant could walk in at any moment, baby girl. You’ve got a little exhibitionist in you, don’t you?” I reply, letting my hand skate up her thigh.
“Well, you did make me come in front of half of Paris the other night, so I’d say that’s a yes.” She lets out a little gasp as my fingers graze the fabric of her panties.
“Does that mean you’d let me take you in the VIP room?”
