Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“You know what they say about a man with a big carbon footprint,” he says, toggling his brows suggestively.
“Oh, God. That was awful. Your conservation jokes suck.”
“Who needs to make jokes when I can make money?” he asks, laughing when I roll my eyes. “And I’m manufacturing sports bras from plastic bottles. I think I’m okay flying every once in a while.”
“You are? How did I miss this? I need a good sports bra.”
“We can’t keep them in stock. Mill loves them, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you won’t be needing a bra tonight.”
“Wow.” I lift both brows and try to ignore how his words are flirting with sensitive spots on my body. “Aren’t you confident?”
He drops his eyes down over me, and he draws his bottom lip between his teeth. “I like to think of it as hopeful.”
“Who am I to steal a man’s hope?”
We climb the short set of steps lowered from the plane. He snaps the curtain closed behind us, and I barely have time to absorb the luxuriously appointed cabin before he pulls me down into one of the oversize leather seats, across his lap. He thrusts one hand into my hair, guiding my face down to his, and licks hungrily into my mouth.
“Maxim.” I laugh into the kiss. “We haven’t even taken off yet.”
“I’m making up for lost time.”
“The last week?” I ask, kissing down his chin and to the strong rise of his throat from his sweater.
“The last week, the last decade. The last hour.” His hand ventures under my blouse to squeeze my breast. I gasp, leaning deeper into his palm. “You hungry?”
“Very.” I shift to straddle him, roll my hips over him, groaning at the way his hardness relieves some of the sexual pressure I feel but also stokes it higher. He holds me still while he thrusts up, teasing me through my clothes with what I want naked. I want to tear his clothes off, burn mine, and celebrate this new thing between us right on this leather seat.
The curtain pulls open, and I glance over my shoulder to find a blond flight attendant who looks completely shocked to see some strange woman straddling her boss.
“Mr. Cade,” she gasps. “I’m so sorry.”
She starts backing out through the curtain.
“It’s okay, Laura,” Maxim breathes heavily into the curve of my neck. He strokes my back and tucks my head into his shoulder, hiding my flaming face. “Dinner?”
“Yes, sir. Cook says it’s ready.”
“Thank you. Bring it in.” He kisses my hair. “We’re starving.”
Once I hear the curtain close, I laugh and pull back to look at him. “Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all.”
“She’s paid not to be awkward.”
I thread my fingers through his, looking at our hands instead of at him. “You mean when you bring women on your plane to make out?”
“I’m thirty-eight years old. I don’t ‘make out’ anymore.” He lifts my chin and holds my stare. “And I haven’t brought a woman with me like this before.”
I roll my eyes. “Tell me another one, Doc. You expect me to believe you haven’t gone all mile-high club with other women?”
The humor fades from his expression, leaving a sober cast. “I do expect you to believe it. It’s true. I learned the hard way to be really careful about whom I allow into my private space, into my private life. Even the most authentic people develop ulterior motives when they see just how much you could do for them.”
“I feel honored then,” I tell him softly. “Was there never a woman you thought might be the one? Your Russian princess maybe?” I pretend to study the cream-and-black leather and gold accents of the decor so he won’t see the jealousy I’m sure brews in my eyes.
“Katya’s a great girl. She really is, and I can’t deny we had a wild couple of days a few years ago.”
I stuff a feral scream and tamp down the urge to yank a handful of blond strands from her scalp.
“But she’s never been here.” He tips my chin up again. “Just you, Nix.”
I search his eyes and find what looks like the truth. Some of the tension in my shoulders drains, and I smile. The curtain opens again, and Laura rolls in a large cart bearing several silver domes.
Maxim shifts me off his lap so he can get up and take the seat across from me. Laura rolls the table between us. There’s chicken, seafood, potatoes, asparagus, salad, and even some rich chocolate ganache–looking thing.
“Thank you,” I murmur to Laura.
“Thanks, Laura,” Maxim says. “Can you wait to clear this when we land? We aren’t to be disturbed again.”
She nods, and I take a gulp from my glass of water, hoping to cool the heat rising from the center of my body and fanning out over every part of me.