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He stuck the edge of his thumb in his mouth and sucked it. “I think you’re right. It’s Tajin.” He seemed thoroughly pleased at making me blush once more.
I quickly grabbed the cocktail napkin and wiped my mouth, sure that I had shit all over my face.
Damian was effortlessly charming, and handsome, and so out of my league. I felt like a bumbling idiot in my giant hoodie, with food on my face.
I eyed his lips and quickly changed the subject.
“Thank you for sending up breakfast this morning. That was incredibly thoughtful of you.”
“My pleasure.” He just sat there drinking me in with his eyes, and I squirmed under his gaze. He seemed so confident, so sure of himself, and I didn’t know how to act. And now all I could think about was his skin on mine. His lips on mine.
“So are you going to tell me why you ran?” Damian got straight to the point, but his tone was kind and not judgmental.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re flying with us peasants?” I shot back, changing the subject again, with a flirtatious smile.
“What do you mean?” He chuckled.
“That room back at the hotel was incredibly nice. Your suit is incredibly nice.” I gestured to his outfit. “You have a driver. You clearly have some hot shot job. And you’re telling me you don’t have a private jet?” I asked inquisitively.
He chuckled, “Well, actually, I do have a private jet.”
“I knew it!” I grinned as I sipped my drink, but through the straw this time, to avoid getting more crap on my face. “So why aren't you flying on your big fancy jet today?”
“How do you know I’m not?” He motioned to the jets out on the runway.
“Oh, right.” I said, embarrassed. “So why are you waiting around here with me, then?” I asked.
“Actually, I am flying commercial today. I had a friend who needed my jet a little more than me today.”
“Who’s the friend?” I asked with more sarcasm than I mean to. I was sure it was a girlfriend or something. He had to be taken, I decided. I eyed his finger for a wedding ring and there was none, and then I looked down at my own hand, realizing that didn’t mean much of anything.
He smiled at me, deciding whether he was going to give me the answer. “Carter.”
“Who’s Carter?”
“A buddy of mine.”
“That’s cute.” I teased him. “So, what was so important that Carter needed the jet today?”
“His wife is in labor with their first child.”
“Hmmm.” I squinted my eyes at him, and bunched up my face. He seemed too good to be true, so far. “Rich and generous, I see. What’s not to like?”
“Alright, I answered your question, actually I answered two of yours. Now you answer one of mine.” He tugged on my sweatshirt strings again.
“Why did you run?”
I scrunched up my face. Pushing down the emotions made me feel like I had to sneeze.
His eyes hardened. “Did he hit you?”
“No.” I stared at him curiously, intrigued by his body language.
He stared back, waiting for the truth.
“Fine. I’ll answer. But only because I’m never going to see you again, so it doesn’t matter. I ended it. Well, sort of.”
He cocked his head to the side. “What does that mean?”
