Page 62 of For the Plot
And that’s when I make the hardest choice I’ve made in years. I step back. Her eyes fly open. “Are you fu?—”
“Skye,” I say harshly, cutting her off.
“Look at me, sweetheart.” I reach down, brushing her hair back from her face, and lean in, this time with control, this time with restraint that’s paper-thin and fraying by the second. “I’m not saying never; I’m just saying no tonight.”
She stares up at me with big eyes, her lips still slightly parted.
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. The car will pick you up at six thirty,” I say against her mouth. “Don’t be late.”
And then I walk away. Because if I don’t, I’ll take her against that wall and cancel the damn flight.
Chapter 13
Skye
I’m halfway out the door when I stop and rip open my suitcase like a woman on the verge of making a very bad—or very good—decision.
The black dress pants? No. Too stiff. The cream blouse with the high collar? Hell no. I shove both aside and reach for the silk wrap dress I told myself I wouldn’t bring. Add the red lace bra and matching thong. Fold in my favorite black heels, the ones that do something filthy to my legs when I walk. Perfume, lipstick, backup lipstick.
If I’m going to sit across from Reece Blackwood on a private jet for two and a half hours, I’m not doing it in “corporate casual.” I’m doing it in silence so loud he can’t ignore it.
The car picks me up exactly on time, because of course it does. The drive to the private hangar is fast and smooth, but my pulse still refuses to settle. When I step out into the sunlit tarmac, I spot him immediately.
He’s standing at the bottom of the jet stairs, talking to someone with a clipboard and wearing a fitted navy suit like it was tailored to ruin me. Jacket still on. Tie tight. Sunglasses on. I hate that I notice the way his hair is just slightly mussed, like he dragged his hand through it before walking out the door. Ihate that I notice how good his ass looks in those pants. I hate that I’m about two seconds from walking right up to him and demanding he put me out of my misery.
He looks up as I approach and I feel my chest tighten because he’s not smiling. But his gaze does one slow sweep from the top of my head to the hem of my dress peeking out beneath my trench coat. It lingers.
“Good morning, Miss Rhodes,” he says. “Glad to see you made it on time.”
I meet his eyes. “Barely.”
He gestures to the stairs like a gentleman. “After you.”
The jet interior is exactly what you’d expect from a man like Reece—muted luxury, buttery soft leather recliner seats, and sleek espresso wood accents. He nods at the flight attendant, who offers me a drink. I wave her off and settle into the seat across from him, doing everything within my power to keep my focus out the window until we are finally in the air.
Once we reach cruising altitude, Reece opens his tablet and starts reviewing documents like it’s any other workday. I pretend to do the same, but all I can think about is how quiet it is. How intimate. How I’m sitting a few feet from my current sex fantasy and trying not to think about his mouth. About how he kissed me like he was starving and I was the only thing left on the menu.
He picks up his phone, a silenced call coming in that he answers in his Bluetooth earpiece.
“Hey, Silva.”
I shift my gaze back to my own tablet, switching between Pinterest and the notes for our client meeting later. And then, because the universe clearly has a sick sense of humor, he stands and shrugs off his jacket, then sets it on the seat beside him. If only that’s where it stopped. But no, he laughs into the phone and reaches up to loosen his tie.
His hands are steady. Intentional. He slides the fabric free and drops it onto the table. Then he starts to roll up his sleeves… One measured fold at a time. Exposing his thick, veiny forearms so tan and cut I forget how to breathe for a second.
Oh my God, I’m actually going to combust.
I glance around, looking for anything I can use to subtly fan myself but there’s nothing. He doesn’t look up. Not at first. Just unbuttons his other cuff and rolls like he’s preparing to do something filthy instead of reviewing a merger doc.
I must make a sound because his eyes flick up, right to mine. And of course, my face suddenly feels like it’s on fire. A slow, devious grin tugs at the corner of his mouth like he knows exactly what I’ve been sitting over here fantasizing about.
I look away, unable to withstand the tension any longer and thankfully, my phone buzzes with an alert. But when I look down, it’s his name on the screen. I glance back up at him, his eyes staring into mine as I gently swipe my finger across the screen.
Reece:Keep staring at me like that and I’ll bend you over this table between us mid-flight.
