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“Yes really. Humour me.”
“Yellow. It's a happy colour. Let me guess, yours is black?”
He kept his eyes on the ceiling of the plane but smirked. “No, actually it's green.”
I could feel a small smile playing at the corners of my lips but I focused on the next question. “Favourite food?”
“Easy. Pizza.”
I giggled. “Stupid question to ask an Italian! Mine is sushi.”
“Okay. Do you have any tattoos?” he lifted his head and looked into my eyes, and I quickly turned away.
“Yes. One. I already know you have hundreds.”
“Where is your tattoo?” his eyes twinkled with mischief.
“None of your business!” I scolded him, which only made him smile wider.
“That means it's in a naughty place. I look forward to finding it,” he winked, and I lowered my head in my hand. He just can’t help himself. “Favourite author?” he asked.
Now this was a question I could get onboard with but was not expecting to come out of his mouth. I mastered English Literature at University so I could talk about books all day.
“That is very hard. Classical – Jane Austen or Shakespeare. Poetry – Edgar Allen Poe and modern, I would probably go for Kenn Follett. What?”
I caught him staring at me with a look of wonder and it made me feel uncomfortable.
“Nothing. There is just nothing sexier than a woman who knows her books.”
I smiled broadly and shook my head. “Well, now I know you are lying! So, surprise me, you read?”
He put his hand to his heart and feigned hurt which made me chuckle. “Of course, I read. Classical – Leo Tolstoy, Poetry – Il Lampo and contemporary – Tolkien, of course.”
My mouth must have been hanging open ready to catch flies as he laughed at my reaction. What the hell? He knew literature? “I love Tolkien! Tolstoy?”
“Anna Karenina is arguably one of the best pieces of written work to ever exist. And I am a huge Lord of the Rings fan. Don’t tell anyone,” he winked, and I honestly think he must have been able to hear my ovaries fangirling over him. This was unexpected.
“But Anna Karenina is so tragic!” I argued and he leaned into me, staring deep into my eyes.
“Just as tragic as your Romeo and Juliet?” I nodded in agreement and leaned back in the chair.
“Next question: did you always want to be an entrepreneur?” Something flashed across his face and he sat back in his chair and sighed.
“No. I wanted to be a fireman. Or a swimmer.” I couldn’t help the beaming smile on my face. “What?” he asked, amused as he noticed.
“You would make the ideal fireman. I can just imagine you now on all the hot fireman calendars hanging on horny housewives' walls.”
He started to laugh. Like really laughing. A laugh I have never heard from him before. It’s a deep, rich and sexy sound, so beautifully masculine. I stared in awe as he looked so free and youthful. He stopped laughing abruptly, looking a little taken aback by his unexpected outburst. I guess he wasn’t expecting it either.
“Did you just give me a compliment? You think I’m hot?” He teased that playfulness back in full throttle. I sighed loudly.
“Maybe I did. But don’t get used to it.”
“Next question. Have you ever had a dirty dream about me?'' His tone was infuriatingly seductive, and I pressed the button on the side of my seat to lower my chair to an angle I could fall asleep at and closed my eyes. “Oh, come on. I told you I’d had one about you earlier, so it's only fair.”
“I am tired. Time for a nap,” I fake yawned, keeping my eyes closed even though I could feel his heated gaze warming my body.
“Where is your favourite place to be kissed?” He whispered lowly, cheekiness evident in his voice and I shook my head.
