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Besides, I can’t be bothered to feel embarrassed or badly. You only get one life and I plan to make the most of mine.
I grab the complimentary blanket and pillow, and burrow into my seat, pressing the button to flatten it into a bed. A quick check of the time on my phone tells me I have two blissful hours of sleep ahead of me. Thank fuck. Maybe by then my lady bits won’t be such a needy little witch begging for more of what was clearly a one time only thing. If only she understood that.
“Miss, we’re preparing to land, I need you to put your seat in the upright position.” A gentle shake wakes me and I groan, throwing my arm over my face. Has it really been two hours already?
Sensing she won’t leave until I comply, I blindly run my fingers over the console on my left, searching for the button to change my bed back to a seat. Ah ha. The seat takes shape and I sigh, wishing I could’ve gotten in a few more winks. The complimentary blanket pools at my waist as I stretch my arms high above my head and yawn softly—blinking slowly. That nap was divine. My body aches in a delicious way and I squirm in my seat, biting down on my bottom lip to conceal a thoroughly satisfied grin. The flight attendant gives me a knowing smile and heat creeps up my neck. Shit, we were really loud, weren’t we?
She flicks her eyes to my left, a glint of envy and maybe even longing flashes across her expression. I get it girl. The things he can do with his … everything … is mind blowing. I finger comb my curls—I’m sure they’re a wild mess right now—replaying the events that led to the best sleep I’ve ever had. Lightning bolts sizzle through me, targeting my core and I clench my thighs together, hoping like hell my reaction isn’t obvious. Phantom fingertips constrict around my neck, a faint reminder of something I never thought I’d be into.
A prickling sensation flares to life, invading my senses. The hairs on my arms stand at attention, as if they’re under his command. Are they? My heart does this weird high dive flipping motion and I bring my hand up to rub at the center of my chest.
He’s looking at me. I don’t need him in my field of vision to know that with absolute certainty.
His amber gaze is a brand on my flesh. A permanent reminder of the nameless stranger who rocked my world like a damn wrecking ball. How am I supposed to be satisfied with another man now? It’s like being given a glimpse of Valhalla, only to be sent to Hell for an eternity. Fucking bastard.
I wanted him to snap, to obliterate his perfectly controlled demeanor—and boy did he ever—but I’m not so sure he’s the one who broke after all. Bent a little? Definitely, but shattered control? Probably not. It’s okay though, better to be broken and living, than shelled and stagnant. I have no regrets. Joining the mile high club was otherworldly, but when all else fails, my trusty rechargeable toys will get the job done. Plus, he can’t be the only man out there who knows how to strum a woman like a well loved instrument, right?
God, I hope not.
The plane drops in altitude in preparation to land, and I watch him out of the corner of my eye, unable to stop myself. What is he thinking? Have I ruined him in the same way he’s ruined me? A little dark part of me, hidden behind the sunshine and wildflowers, is gleeful at the thought. Nope, that won’t do. I brush that bitch away, there’s no space in my life for pining after the unattainable. And Mr. Grumpy Pants is the epitome of unattainable.
“Feeling sated and pleased?” His deep timbre washes over me, eliciting a shiver that works its way down from my scalp to my toes. How does he do that?
I turn and blink up at him, smiling sweetly. “I’d say the feeling is mutual with the depths of pleasure we wrung from each other, but I don’t want to assume.” I raise my brow in challenge.
Fire. I’m playing with fire and I can’t seem to help myself.
“You know what they say about people who assume things, don’t you?”
He reaches across the center to brush away a few stray curls from my face, tucking them behind my ear. His thumb trails down the column of my neck, applying pressure to my pulse point and I force myself not to gulp. What did he just ask?
“Cat got your tongue, Bambi?”
There’s that name again. I think about asking him why he insists on calling me that, but I can’t let him know it riles me up. Especially when my body wars with my mind over which type of winding it does. Frustration for sure, but is it dipped in sexual tension or barbed with acid?
I don’t get the chance to respond, not that I have a response for him anyway. The plane’s tires touch down on the tarmac and the stupidly gorgeous giant skims his fingers over my collarbone before releasing me from his orbit.
Unlike LAX where you can taxi for hours before finally disembarking, landing in Puerto Vallarta is shockingly quick. The pilot’s voice comes on overhead, thanking us for flying with him and phantom words whisper into my ear, causing heat to bloom across my chest.
I want you begging so loudly that the pilot’s cock turns to steel.
Boy did I, and I half wonder if the pilot actually heard me. I’m tempted to ask Mr. Grumpy Pants how we weren’t caught, but some things are better left unasked. If they’re not banning me from the airline, well, that’s all I need to know.
I grab my backpack and unzip the front pocket to stash the tubes of L’Occitane in there. A glance to my left reveals that the stranger hasn’t touched his yet. Hmmm, I wonder … I inch my fingers closer to his complimentary unopened travel bag and ants skitter across my exposed skin—his predatory gaze tracking my movement. I bite down on my bottom lip to conceal the eager noise trapped in the back of my throat. I need more of that lotion.
As soon as my fingers brush the soft fabric bag, I snatch it from the center console between us and clutch it to my chest like it’s my greatest treasure. He clucks his tongue at me and I can’t be bothered to care. Grinning like a madwoman, I flutter my lashes at him causing his scowl to deepen.
“I know, I know. I shouldn’t touch anything without written consent from the owner, but technically,” I twirl a red ringlet around my finger and give him my most innocent expression. “This isn’t your bag anymore, we’ve landed and the flight is over, so you no longer have eminent domain over it.” Or my body. I don’t say that though, partly because he looks ready to devour me and my sassy mouth, but mostly because it’s untrue. I think a piece of me will always belong to this stupidly handsome tattooed grump.
Stashing my newly acquired lotion, an eager anticipation sparks inside me. Sun, sand, wildlife, tequila. Fuck, it’s going to be an amazing weekend. With my backpack and camera bag secure, I subtly peer over at the stranger I got to know biblically on this flight. I need to leave before I do something stupid like tell him where I’m staying or ask him for his number. Neither of those things can happen. Our tryst was a one and done thing. If only I could convince my lady bits that it was for the best.
“We’ll always have the flight to Puerto Vallarta,” I toss over my shoulder, my smile never fading. Time to get my relaxation on and forget about tall, dark, and dominating.
We’ll always have the flight to Puerto Vallarta.
I pace the length of the hospital hallway, fist clenching open and closed. Her carefree words continue to reverberate around my mind with the force of a damn battering ram. Why the fuck do they bother me so much? I have no intention of ever hearing her sassy mouth or watching her pupils dilate as arousal lights a match to her insides again.
Goddammit. I kick the beat up baseboard, pain feeding my sour mood. She shouldn’t have been able to slip past my defenses. I still don’t know how she did it. I’ve spent nearly twenty years compounding an impenetrable armor around my mind, and in the span of an hour she was able to find a crack and work her way in. She’s wild and uncouth. That alone should have deterred me. Yet, somehow those vibrant green eyes and perfect pouty lips ensnared me, using her mouth like a sailor and body made for sinning to slice through my control until only frayed tethers remained. I can’t get her out of my head and worse, I don’t know if I want to.
