2D
JAMES
I caught a glimpse of her back as I walked to my seat. Good, I thought, relieved. At least I'd actually gotten the flight right. Getting her schedule had turned out to be a challenge. It had taken over a week of calling in favors, in fact, and that was with me knowing the CEO of her airline personally. The comings and goings of airline employees were well guarded, I had learned.
She was in the front galley, bent down to dig through one of the drink carts. She turned her head slightly, and I was almost relieved to feel that foreign punch in the gut from the first time I'd met her. I hadn't just imagined it, as I'd tried to convince myself that I had.
I watched her straighten, pulling a bottle of champagne out of the cart, before she moved out of my sight.
Reluctantly, I took my seat.
Scant seconds later, the big blond man who had greeted me at the aircraft door swept by. He was a flight attendant, but he didn't look like any flight attendant I'd ever seen. He was good-looking and big, and you could tell he was muscular at a glance. I didn't like that—didn't like such an attractive man working in close quarters with her. How could I feel so covetous of a woman that I'd met only once, and briefly?
I didn't know, but I couldn't deny the feeling, or name it anything but what it was.
He swept past me again, heading back to the door, a pleasant smile on his face.
My entire body was drawn tight as a bow, but I tried my best to hide it, pushing my back into the seat—relaxing my body, when she swept from the galley. I didn't think I hid a bit of my intense reaction to her as she approached. I came to the quick and brutal conclusion that I would never be able to fake a second of indifference with this woman.
She was carrying a round silver tray, laden with champagne flutes. She was every bit as lovely as I remembered, with soft, beautiful features, and sad eyes. Those eyes . . . They got to me, on a number of levels.
Her pale hair was pulled back as severely as it had been the first time I'd met her, but the severe hairstyle didn't detract from her beauty. I didn't think anything could. She had clean, even features. Her eyes were captivating, her nose straight and perfect, and her mouth was sexy but serious.
She was no flirt, and I knew that I would have to work to get so much as a smile from her, but I had no doubts that it would be worth the work.
She walked down the aisle like someone who'd done it a thousand times, her step brisk and steady, right up until she raised those ageless eyes to look at me.
She was composed to a fault, but I got to her, and I loved that. She froze at the sight of me, her expression arrested. I smiled, pleased down to my soul at her reaction.
Finally, after a long and telling pause, she swallowed hard and said, "Hello again, Mr. Cavendish." She nodded, her heavy drink tray wobbling.
I stood, reaching to steady her tray, never taking my eyes off her.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Cavendish," she said breathlessly.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to figure out why she was apologizing. I couldn't have cared less about the champagne on my sleeve. "Don't be sorry, Bianca," I told her, loving her name on my lips, though I loved my name on hers more.
I steadied her, letting go of her reluctantly when she had the tray again.
"Champagne?" she asked.
I shook my head. "Just some water, when you get a chance." I gave her a warm smile.
My phone beeped a message at me after she'd left to serve the other passengers.
Tristan: You have any luck finding that flight attendant you were stalking?
My lip curled in a smile. I couldn't blame him for giving me shit. I'd been the one who had told him about my sudden infatuation when we'd had lunch at my casino the day before. Still, my response was quick and succinct.
James: Go find some rabbits to pull out of a hat and oh yeah go fuck yourself.
His reply was just as prompt.
Tristan: Hope that's not all you end up doing tonight. Good luck with the stalking;)
I looked up from my phone as Bianca approached me again with a bottle of water.
"Can I take your jacket, Mr. Cavendish?" she asked softly, handing me the bottle. "I could try to get the champagne out or just hang it up, if you like."
I rose, stepping into the aisle, deliberately crowding her as I did so. I could see how it unnerved her when I stood close. I shrugged out of my suit jacket, nearly brushing against her with the movement.
She paused for a long moment, staring at my chest, before she took the jacket from me. She was very careful not to let her hand touch mine. It made me smile.
"Just hang it, please, Bianca," I told her softly, enjoying that I could shatter her composure.
"Yes, sir," she murmured hoarsely.
I watched her every move with fascination, knowing that she was aware of my intense regard, though she tried hard not to so much as glance at me. I was fine with that, content to study her as she worked, and to affect her just with my presence.
I was just enjoying the view right up to the moment that I saw the male flight attendant, Stephan, grip her hand as the plane took off. It wasn't a tentative touch, but a very familiar one. My fists clenched. I couldn't say why, but the thought that she might have a boyfriend had never even occurred to me. I chose not to examine how much it bothered me that she apparently did have one, instead focusing my efforts on how I would deal with that.
She flashed a warm smile at the other man—a look that made my heart seize up in my chest. I wanted that smile. It should have been for me. It infuriated me that she could react the way she did to me, when she obviously loved another man. I knew it wasn't logical; the one had little to do with the other, but I was still incensed at the sight of that affectionate smile, and if looks could kill, Stephan (I'd caught his name during his announcements) would have fallen dead on the spot.
I couldn't seem to take my eyes off those joined hands, my mood growing dark. I felt like I'd been played, as though our off-the-charts chemistry was somehow something she could have controlled, since she was apparently attached. I could barely stand to look at her as she served me, pulling out my laptop for distraction.
She approached me after she'd finished her service. Her face was earnest, her brow furrowed, as she spoke to me quietly. "Can I get you anything else, sir?"
My mind went a little crazy at the question, several things, most of them X-rated, coming vividly to mind. I decided on the spot on a direct approach, knowing that I didn't have the patience for anything else with her. I kept my face and voice as civilized as I could manage. "May I ask you something, Bianca?"
She raised her brows in a question. "Yes, Sir. What can I help you with?" Her tone was the epitome of professional.
I sighed, waving at the seat beside mine. "Can you sit for a minute to talk?"
She glanced around, as though sitting beside me was somehow out of line.
"Sit, Bianca," I coaxed. "Everyone else is beyond caring."
She perched on the seat nervously, her every movement careful.
She smoothed her skirt down as she sat, drawing my attention to her legs. They were long, slender, and shapely. You usually only saw legs like that on models with boyish figures, but she didn't have that problem. Her chest was ample, her hips shapely. That killer body, mixed with her cool reserve, was a heady combination that I simply couldn't resist shaking up.
"Are you and Stephan together?" I asked her, watching her carefully.
She blinked at me, obviously caught off-guard. "No, sir," she answered quickly. "We're friends, but it's platonic."
I studied her carefully. I thought that she was telling the truth. To say I was relieved was a vast understatement. In fact, I suddenly found it impossible not to touch her.
I caught her wrist, smiling warmly as I studied her downturned face. She was taking deep breaths as she looked up into my face, as affected as I; I watched her large breasts rising and falling with her breaths. Her hard nipples were clearly outlined through her sexy-as-hell uniform, and if she'd bothered to look down at my lap, she would've seen that I was having the same reaction to her.
I reached a hand to the thin tie she wore, running a finger down it, my touch light. I hummed deep in my throat with pleasure as her breasts quivered for me.
I cleared my throat, looking back into her eyes. "Are you seeing anyone?"
She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. I watched the motion with fascination, wondering how I was going to keep my hands off her for another second. "Good," I told her. "I assume you're taking a nap when you get to your hotel. What time will you be waking up?" I knew I couldn't wait even another day to have her.
"I usually sleep for about four hours, so I can still get to sleep at night. We have an early flight to Las Vegas on Saturday morning. If I slept any longer than that, I'd be up all night."
I processed that briefly. "So noon?" I asked, planning to take the afternoon off work and in bed with her.
She nodded, looking a little stunned.
"I'll send a car to pick you up for lunch," I told her firmly. This thing we had between us needed to be addressed in a hurry. "You and I need to talk," I continued. "I have a proposition for you."
She stiffened, shaking her head, her eyes suddenly cold. "No, Mr. Cavendish." Even in that icy tone, her calling me that made my cock twitch with need. "I'm flattered that you're . . . interested in me in some way. But I'll have to politely decline. I don't date."
I blinked at her, surprised that she could turn me down when she so obviously felt this crazy attraction just like I did. I didn't even have to think about it to know that I didn't have the self-control to stay away from her. I tried another tactIC. "I don't date, either, actually." Which was true, and frankly, I'd go along with any arrangement she was amenable to just to get inside of her. I could always change her mind later, though as I thought about it, keeping her away from the media circus aspect of my life was a sound idea all around. "That was not exactly what I had in mind."
Her eyes had gone cold before, but they went glacial as I spoke. "Then what did you have in mind?" she asked, her tone hard.
My brain, or other things, completely ignored her tone, focusing only on her question. I wanted badly to show her just what I had in mind, though I knew that I wasn't treating the situation with the finesse it required.
I ran my finger along her tie again, watching her quivering breasts with hungry eyes. I thought I would do anything to have that lush body under me, and under my control. "I think you and I are very compatible," I told her thickly, thoughts of her tied to my bed naked, writhing at my touch, running rampant through my mind. "In fact, I'm sure of it. Come to lunch with me today and I'll show you. If you still aren't interested, I will, of course, leave you alone. But I promise I can make you interested. I'll treat you very well, Bianca. I'm a very generous man—" It was the wrong approach, I saw immediately. Everything was coming out all wrong with the way she was affecting me.
She held up her free hand. "Please, no more," she told me stiffly. "I'm not interested in any of that, believe me. I don't know what impression you think I've given you, but I'm not some kind of fortune hunter. I don't want your generosity. I don't want anything at all from you." Fuck. Her tone sounded final. I'd already royally fucked things up, but even her flat-out refusal did nothing but turn me on.
"We have a girl that works in back who seems more your style," she continued, making me want to put her over my knee right there. "I'll send her your way if you're so hard up that you're offering random women money." Fuck, I had sort of implied that in so many words, though I'd been thinking farther ahead than that. That was the problem. I'd been so obsessed with her since our first short meeting that we'd progressed much further in my head, and my fantasies, than where we actually were. It was a problem. "Or whatever the hell it is you were suggesting," she was still ranting. "But I can tell you for sure that I am not the kind of girl that you're looking for." She tried to rise, but I tightened my hand on her delicate wrist. It was a perfect wrist, just begging to be bound.
She sat, glaring at my hand.
"That's not what I meant at all, Bianca" I said in my most conciliatory tone. "I didn't mean to sound so . . . indelicate. But I am very, very attracted to you, and I would very much like to do something about it." I smiled at her, catching her eye. As our gazes met and another sizzling burst of heat passed between us, I couldn't even comprehend how she could turn this down. I would do anything to see where this went. "Have lunch with me," I continued reasonably, "where we can discuss this at length, and with some privacy." I let her go reluctantly as I finished speaking.
She didn't even hesitate, standing and rejecting me within quick moments. "No, thank you, Mr. Cavendish." She strode away.
I processed that for less than thirty seconds before I was standing, striding to follow her, not even approaching deterred.
I swept the galley curtain aside with one impatient movement, moving straight to her.
She was leaning heavily against the galley's metal counter, her breathing unsteady. She opened her mouth to tell me no again, and I crushed mine over hers, effectively shutting her up. It was a desperate, ravenous kiss, having none of the finesse that I wanted to show her. It was an honest kiss, though, showing her that I wanted to own her—to possess every inch of her. And by God, I would have her submission.
Despite her rejection, her kiss was just as honest. Like me, I didn't think she could help it. Her mouth softened under mine, obeying my order to submit as though I'd spoken it out loud. It was just what I'd pictured for all the days I'd been fantasizing about it. It was perfection.
I stroked my tongue into her mouth and she moaned, which made me shake.
"Suck on my tongue," I told her roughly, when I came up for air.
She obeyed, tentatively, and then harder. I groaned, losing my mind for a minute. Blind with need, I pressed slowly into her, grinding my erection against her. In my blind need, I'd fucked up again, too much too fast, and she pulled back, giving me wide eyes.
"Touch me," just slipped out.
I was shocked and delighted when that didn't make her recoil. She swallowed hard, watching me with raw need written in every line of her face. Good, I thought. At least she feels this, too.
"Where?" she asked unsteadily.
My cock twitched, but I did show an ounce of restraint. "My chest and stomach. Touch all the places there that you want to be touched on your own body."
She did, kneading at my chest with an absolutely riveting look of want on her face. I thought about the tiny commercial airplane bathroom, just a few feet away. It wasn't the easiest place to fuck, but I knew all the tricks to fucking in hard places. No, I told myself. I have at least that much control. The first time had to be in my bed, under my absolute control. I'd fantasized too much about that to allow anything else. All I could allow myself here and now was the groundwork for the seduction.
She moved her hands tentatively lower, and I licked my lips, nodding at her to go on. She ran her hands along my abs, and I thought I was going to lose it again. I had to make myself count for control as she stroked my stomach and then my arms.
I couldn't seem to resist further torment, unbuttoning my shirt from chest to navel. I had to feel her, skin on skin, even if it was only the briefest contact. I needed it. Touching her was out of the question. I would lose it then. "Touch my skin," I ordered her roughly.
She didn't even hesitate, obeying me automatically. So fucking perfect, as though I've dreamed her up.
She tried to fit both hands into my shirt, and I tugged one out, bringing it to my mouth for a soft kiss. I put that hand on my shoulder while she tortured me with the hand in my shirt, stroking my stomach with a firm touch. I wanted that touch on my cock so badly that my eyes clenched shut with the need.
As though she'd read my mind, her hand wandered down, gripping my erection with a firm hand. So fucking perfect for me that she can read my mind, I thought, even as I groaned, wrenching her hand away.
I grinned at her, thinking that I was already far too fond of her. I'm keeping this one, I thought, even knowing how insane that was.
"Not here. Not yet," I told her. "The first time I want you in my bed." Need you in my bed.
Taking a step back took every ounce of control that I possessed. I buttoned and straightened my clothing, watching her beautiful face watching my hands.
Determined as ever, I pulled my phone out. "Give me your number." It was a command.
She shook her head, infuriating me. "No," she said firmly.
I couldn't believe her gall. How could she deny me, even as every inch of her body submitted? My mouth twisted in amusement. I rejected her denial completely. This was happening. Her submission had revealed so much more to me than her words ever could. She had more self-control than I did, but it couldn't be limitless. I would break her down.
She studied my crooked smile, glaring. She backed away until she hit the counter. "Not interested," she stated.
I will count down the hours until I can put her over my knee, I thought with relish. A corner of my mouth kicked up involuntarily. Torturous as it was, I was going to enjoy every second of this pursuit.
I put my hands in my pockets, mostly to keep from touching her. I leaned against the counter beside her.
"How about coffee?" I asked, suddenly amused at the entire situation. Images of her sipping a cup of coffee while I licked her pussy flashed through my mind. "Is that neutral enough? Give me your number, and we'll go for some coffee."
She shook her head, not even hesitating. "No, thank you." She waved a hand. "I don't do this sort of thing. I'm just not interested."
I had to smile at her blatant lie. You didn't melt under a man's touch when you weren't interested. I didn't entertain the idea for even a second. I watched her ample chest rise and fall, her nipples visibly hard. She glanced down as though her own chest was disappointing her.
"I will put you over my knee every time you lie to me, Bianca," I told her quietly, determined to be very clear about my intentions.
Her face went a little slack, and I almost lost it. I had to wage another short inner battle for control. It didn't help that she trembled where she stood, visibly affected. "See. I'm not into any of that stuff, so we are clearly not compatible."
Even as her obvious lie infuriated me, her self-control impressed me.
I ran a finger down my tie, my eyes on her own indecent one. That little fucking tie was sinful, sitting right between her perfectly rounded tits.
"I'm not sure if that one was a lie, or if you just don't know how pleasurable 'that stuff' can be. Or how well suited you are to it. I can show you. I would love to show you." My thoughts went to dark, uncivilized places. "When I'm done with you, I'll know your body better than you do, and you will be begging me for it. Every inch of your body is submitting to me even as you're turning me down. Can you honestly tell me that the thought of submitting to me in bed doesn't make you wet?"
She shifted on her feet, unable to hide her reaction to my words. Good, I thought. This needs to affect her like it does me.
She studied my face, as though deciding if I was serious. I grinned. "I meant what I said about the spanking, Bianca. And the submission. You're going to learn very quickly that I always mean what I say."
"Please leave my galley, Mr. Cavendish. I won't change my mind," she had the gall to say.
She'll pay for that, I thought. She would soon learn not to give me orders, especially while calling me that.
I pulled out my wallet, taking out a business card. I touched it to her lovely cheek, running it lightly down to her chin, and then her neck. She shivered as I reached her collarbone, and my cock ached. I was going to spend days buried in her cunt. She'll be too sore to even leave my bed after I break her in. And that will just be the start of it . . .
I dragged the card over her breast, slipping it into the pocket right over her nipple. Just touching the card to that hardened crest had my body thrumming with a nearly uncontrollable need.
"The number on the back is my cell," I told her, trying my hardest to sound civilized. "I would love to hear from you. Anytime, night or day."
I tore myself away with reluctance, returning to my seat.
I don't know how long I sat in my seat, tense with desire and fighting not to go back into that galley to change her mind. I only stirred as Stephan appeared, walking slowly towards the front of the plane, solicitously meeting my eyes to see if I needed anything.
I promptly waved him over, sitting up from my slouch.
He had no qualms about occupying the seat next to me. He gave me a friendly grin, brows raised.
"Bianca told me that you were best friends. Purely platonic," I told him bluntly, studying him.
He blinked, looking surprised. He studied me right back. "You're interested in her," he said in such a way that made me think he had this conversation often.
I nodded, deciding to go for broke. "Very interested. You're close?"
He looked around, as though he were about to make a confession. "She told you we were platonic?" he asked carefully.
I tensed, but nodded.
He sighed. "That's unusual for her." He chewed his lip. "I'm gay, and she and I are closer than family, but I'm surprised she told you that we were platonic."
I arched a brow at him, waiting for him to explain the meaning of that riddle.
He shrugged. "Normally, she puts guys off by telling them I'm her boyfriend. She must be at least a little bit interested in you."
I gave him a wry smile, relieved at what he'd revealed. "Well, I'm more than a little interested in her. Do you guys have plans while you're in the city tomorrow?" I wasn't going to admit that she'd shot me down—hadn't even given me her number.
He glanced around again, chewing his lip, as though afraid we'd be overheard. "We'll likely be going out to a bar tomorrow night. Just hanging out."
I smiled my most charming smile for him. "I think your best friend is lovely, and I would really enjoy seeing her again. Would you mind giving me the name of the bar?"
He stared at me for a long time, looking torn. "We're just hanging out, so I'm sure it would be fine if you wanted to stop by to say hi."
I nodded, schooling my face into a bland smile. "Sounds great."
"We'll be hanging out at O'Malley's Irish Pub, on the corner by our hotel."
"I know where that is," I assured him. I'd gotten the location of the crew hotel when I'd gotten Bianca's schedule.
"It's karaoke night, so it might be kind of loud."
"That's fine," I assured him, already making plans to remedy the problem of the too-public venue. "Thanks for letting me know. I owe you."
He shrugged. "It'll be fun. The more the merrier."
"I look forward to it," I told him. It was a vast understatement.