In Flight (31 page)

He just turned and looked at me, his eyes very knowing.
 

“Yes,” he said without shame.
 
Then he smiled.
 
It made my breath catch.
 
“You were quite the busy, kinky girl the night we met.
 
You never fail to surprise and delight me, Bianca.
 
But I do hope this brute of a man is not your type.” He waved his hand at the screen.
 

I shook my head vigorously, my eyes wide.
 
“I never had a type until I met you, James.
 
And now I suppose my type would be impossibly beautiful men with honey colored hair, turquoise eyes and an unexplainable, perpetual tan.
 
There wasn’t any BDSM porn available with that ‘type’.”
 

He lounged back in the small computer chair, running his tongue over his teeth just so.
 

I clenched my thighs together, feeling a rush of heat between my legs.
 

“You know what I did that night when I got home?” James asked, his voice very low, his eyes so warm on my face.
 

I shook my head.
 

He smiled.
 
“I jerked myself off three times in a row just thinking about that little blush you got every time our eyes met.
 
You were so composed, so professional, but I knew you would submit to me perfectly in bed.
 
Just one look at you, and I was lost.”
 

I blushed, my mind flying back to that first meeting.
 

I had been called in to do a charter flight from Las Vegas to New York.
 
Our CEO had personally requested for me to work the flight on my day off, so I could hardly refuse.
 
I had been baffled when Stephan hadn’t been asked.
 
I hadn’t looked forward to the trip, even though it was good overtime, because our CEO tended to be a little too friendly, slimy even, with female flight attendants.
 

But I had gone.
 
The plane had been nearly deserted, and I had been the only flight attendant to work first class.
 
Three flight attendants worked main cabin with less than twenty passengers to tend to.
 
I had only had two.
 
James and the CEO.
 

James had arrived first, and we had frozen at the sight of each other.
 
He had just been stepping into first class when our eyes met.
 
I had been paralyzed, and he had been, well, intense.
 

I had forgotten the job I was supposed to do, the things I was supposed to say, as we just stared at each other for long minutes.
 

I told myself I was imagining all of the things I saw in his eyes, that they were just wild fantasies about an impossibly beautiful man in an impeccable suit.
 

I had looked into those eyes and seen a man who I wanted to submit to on the most basic level.
 

We hadn’t moved until my CEO’s voice boomed from behind James, prompting him to take a seat.
 
I had shaken myself and gone back to work, but every interaction, every glance his way, had made shocks of awareness shake my body, heat rising to my cheeks every time I met his incredible turquoise eyes.
 

We had never even had to touch and he had dominated me on that flight.
 
I had thought I’d never see him again after that, but still I hadn’t been able to get him off my mind.
 

 
James closed out the window of the crude porn, rising and walking to me.
 
He hugged me to him, pushing my face into his chest.
 
He kissed the top of my head almost sweetly.

The rest of the evening went smoothly and I was marveling at our drama-free, sex-free day when my phone dinged a text at me during dinner.
 
It was in my room.
 
It had gone off a few times during the day, but when I checked it and saw that none of the texts were from Stephan I had ignored them.
 

“Excuse me,” I said to James, who was eating leftover chicken as though he did so everyday.
 
I would have bet it was the first leftover dinner he’d had in awhile, if ever.
   

I grabbed my phone, heading back to the table.
 
The text was from Stephan.
 
I hummed as I read it.
 

It had been such a perfect day.
 
James hadn’t even asked
 
me about my nightmare of the night before.
 

If this was what it was like to be in a relationship, I could get used to it.
 
I shocked myself with the thought.
 

“Who’s texting you?
 
What does it say?” James asked.
 
He was nosy and had no shame about it.
 
I wondered how he would take it if I was so nosy with him.
 

“Stephan.
 
I have to work tomorrow.
 
Just a turn, so we’ll be back the same night, though late.”
 

James brooded after that.
 
I knew he had assumed I would keep all of my days off this week.
 
He couldn’t seem to understand that I needed to work overtime to pay my bills.
 

“I can’t imagine you eat leftover chicken for dinner very often,” I said, smiling at him, trying to draw him out of his sudden dark mood.
 

He had never even put a shirt on, just wore his boxers around like the shameless hedonist he was.
 
Though he had stayed strong in his resolve not to have sex with me.
 
I wasn’t particularly pleased with his success.
 

His eyes were cold as he raked me with a glance.
 
“Are you done eating?” he asked in a bland voice.
 

I nodded.
 

“Go get on your bed,” he ordered.
 

I did, thinking that he was an unpredictable tyrant with every step.
 

“Lay on your back,” he ordered.
 

I did, and he yanked my hips to the edge of the bed, shoving my nightgown up to study me.
 
He parted my legs, then put my feet up on the edge of the bed with his hands gripping my ankles.
 
He removed one of his hands almost instantly and touched the petals of my sex with light fingers, examining every inch of me.
 
It made me squirm.
 

“Stop that,” he told me in a hard voice.
 
I did.
 

He slid a finger inside of me ever so slowly.
 
It smarted a little, but not too much to bear.
 
It was a delicious kind of soreness.
 

“Are you sore?” he asked, still pushing.
 

I moaned, not answering, hoping that was answer enough.
 
He cursed, pulling his finger out in one motion.
 

“Another day, at least, before we can fuck.”
 

 
He began to work on me with his mouth, making me pant and beg in scant seconds.
 
After coaxing a quick, intense orgasm out of me, he rose.
 

His face was still hard and cold, even wet with my passion.
 
He went into the bathroom and closed the door.
 
I heard the shower running.

I began to get my things ready for the next day, packing up my flight bag and setting my alarm.
 

He came out with a towel around his waist and I could tell with one look on his face that he was still in a dark mood.
 

“Is there something I can do for you?
 
I feel bad being the only one to get pleasure out of an exchange.”

He just stared at me for a long minute.
 
“No, I’m fine.
 
When do you have to go to bed?”
 

“I should probably get to bed as soon as possible.
 
Are you taking off?” I asked, assuming from his demeanor that he was planning to.
 

His face darkened even more.
 
“Are you kicking me out?”
 

The idea startled me.
 
“No, of course not.
 
You can stay, if you like, but-”
 

“Yes, I like.
 
Let’s go to bed,” he said, going into the closet to slip into a new pair of boxer-briefs.
 

 
He sprawled on the bed, closing his eyes without another word.
 

I got ready for bed, lying beside him awkwardly.
 
It took me a long time to fall asleep beside him.
 
It wasn’t like any of the other times we’d slept together.
 
No parts of our bodies were touching.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Mr. Withdrawn

My alarm went off.
 
I turned it off quickly, trying not to disturb the sleeping man wrapped around me tightly.
 
One of his hands was cupping my breast, even in deep slumber.
 
He had apparently thawed out a bit in his sleep.
 

I pulled free of him slowly and with effort, padding softly into the bathroom to shower.
 

He was sitting up on my side of the bed when I re-emerged.
 
He ran a hand through his hair when he saw me.
 

“Will you call me when you get home?” he asked.
 

I nodded, and went back to getting ready.
 
He got dressed as well, though he didn’t pack his things.
 
I suspected he was going to leave them there without asking me if it was okay.
 
I decided not to make an issue of it.
 
I didn’t want to rile him just then.
 

“I’m off for most of thursday.
 
You know we don’t fly out until late in the evening,” I told him, trying to draw him out of his mood.
 

He just nodded, and I worried that I’d been too presumptuous, assuming he’d want to spend another day with me.
 

“I’ll come here again after you get off of work, unless you object to my company,” he said.
 

It was the closest he would get to asking, I thought.
 

“Sounds great.”
 
I smiled at him, but he remained expressionless.
 

He was ready before me, but waited patiently, dressed in a pale gray suit, with a dark gray shirt and a crimson tie.
 
It was beyond stunning to see him fully dressed after spending so much time with him nearly naked in my house.
 

“That’s a lovely suit,” I told him.
 

He thanked me for the compliment, but stayed withdrawn.
 

I realized that his withdrawal made me want to cling to him.
 
I squelched the unhealthy urge.
 

He walked me out.
 
He didn’t say goodbye until Stephan approached my open garage.
 
James gripped the back of my head, giving me a hard kiss on the mouth.
 

“Call or text me the
second
you get back in town,” he told me gruffly, moving out of my way.
 

He didn’t get into his own car until we started to drive away.

Stephan gave me a careful look.
 
“That man is intense,” he said quietly.
 

I heard the implied question there, but I just nodded.
 
He was worried about me, but I still didn’t know James well enough to confidently reassure him that everything was fine.
 

Both of the flights we worked were agonizingly slow.
 

The only interesting thing about the day was that the Agents were back, following exactly the same routine that they had on the previous turn.
 
Stephan reassured me that he would fill out another report on the strange behavior, just to cover bases, but we decided, after some debate, that the two men must be investigating the airline.
 

I didn’t call or text James during our short time on the ground.
 
I wasn’t sure he wanted me to, so I decided to err on the side of caution.
 
I had no missed calls or texts, so I figured that was the safest bet.
 
Though my ear had picked up a strange line of conversation from one of the Agents as he was exiting the aircraft.
 
“Yes, Sir, she is well.
 
There were no problems.
 
No one bothered her at all.”
 

I began to get an inkling of a paranoid idea, but I immediately brushed it off as batshit crazy.
 

Even eccentric, filthy rich people aren’t that insane
, I told myself.

Agent #2, whose name on the manifest showed James Cook, gave me a warm smile when I handed him his fifth bottle of water.
 

“Here you go, Mr. Cook,”
 
I said, smiling back.
 
As strange as this pattern was, he was really a very pleasant passenger.
 

“Thank you, Ms. Karlsson,” he responded, and I froze.
 
He would know my given name, but there was no reason in the world why he should know my surname.
 
It wasn’t on my name tag.
 

I looked at him squarely.
 
“How do you know my last name?” I asked him frankly.
 

He looked a little sheepish, as though it had been a slip.
 
“It’s my job, Ma’am.”