Page 30 of Broken Pieces
Snapping back to reality, I ask, “When's the meeting?”
“In two days,” she mutterswhile deep in thought, looking at her phone and typing.
I snap my fingers in front of her face, drawing her gaze to mine. “What are you doing that's so important?”
She looks at me with a hint of irritation that always seems to appear when she’s upset with me.
My favorite kind of look.
“I’m writing some notes for the meeting; it has to go well. We have no other option.”
“Forget about that,” I counter. “We can work on it tomorrow over lunch. You work too much,” I say as an excuse, when in reality, all I want is her attention.
She raises an eyebrow, her gaze unwavering. “Look who's talking, the guy wearing a suit because he 'has to be always ready’”
I laugh, running my tongue over my teeth, trying to contain a witty comeback. The bickering between us is a game that only fuels the intensity of my attraction toward her. Call me a masochist if you will, but I fucking love how she challenges me, opinions be damned. I can’t deny I would love nothing but to shut her mouth with my cock, or have her scream my name as I fuck her into oblivion.
So much for controlling yourself, Damian. Fucking seriously. Where the fuck did that thought come from?
We arrive at the airport, and my team swiftly grants her clearance as we make our way tomy jet.
She glances around, visibly impressed. “Nice jet,boss,” she playfully taunts, her eyes dancing with amusement.
I chuckle, shaking my head but choosing not to respond. It took me five years to invest in my own private plane. Even though I make billions of dollars a year with the various companies I own and invest in, it’s hard to spend money. Sometimes it feels as if I don’t deserve it, even though I worked my fucking ass to get to where I am. Deep down, in the back of my head, I’m still like that worthless little boy my father despised so much. The one that’s too compassionate to make it into the real world.
She walks around, surveying the spacious interior of the jet before settling on a corner to claim as her own.
“Not there, that's my seat,” I state firmly.
She shoots me a look, a mix of challenge and incredulity in her hazel eyes.
I raise an eyebrow, my amusement at her audacity growing. Fake coughing, I casually slip one hand into my pants pocket, a sly smile playing on my lips. I meet her gaze with an air of seriousness that only heightens the tension between us, and she continues to hold my gaze, her defiance clear. As always, she decides to take the high road, because this is what we do and sits on the plush leather with a smug smile on her face. This is our own version of a fun game, one I’m more than willing to play with her every chance we get.
With calculated intent, I slowly approach her, taking my time to place my bag neatly under one of the seats. Then, in one swift motion, I place my hands on her hips and I lift her as if she weighs no more than a feather.
She gasps. “Damian, put me down right now! Are you crazy!?”
I scrunch down to place her in the plush leather seat next to mine, glancing at her. Her cheeks redden, making her freckles pop. There is little to no space between us, and as she’s getting herself comfortable in the seat, her gaze meets mine as she licks her lower lip. My eyes involuntarily travel to her lips, and I lick my own without thinking. Her fucking lips are just calling my name, begging for me to take them, and I have little resolve left in me to keep my distance. My eyes travel farther down, noticing her chest rising and falling, her breathing becoming sloppy. She wants me to kiss her. I know it. The air crackles with that familiar electric intensity.If I move just a few more inches closer, I could close the gap between us and grab her by the nape of her neck and give myself a delicious taste. Her sweet strawberry scent is intoxicating, making me dizzy and clouding my thoughts.
Somehow, I manage to snap back to reality, and I abruptly get up. She looks the other way without a word, admiring everything about the space, refusing to look back at me. Taking a seat next to her and pulling out my phone, I start typing away emails.
She grabs her bag and goes to stand up, but I grab her arm and stop her. “What are you doing?”
She looks back at me confused. “I’m moving to another seat so I can be out of your space.”
I shake my head and pat the seat next to mine. “Sit. I just wanted my regular seat, that’s all.”
I’m particular about these things. I always sit in the same seat. It’s the little things I’m always a control freak about. It’s a hard habit to break.
Her eyes flicker with that fiery resolve and she replies, “No, thank you. There’s enough space for me to sit somewhere else.”
“Do you want me to grab you like a sack of potatoes and drop you on this seat? Was once not enough?”
Her back stiffens and she replies, “You wouldn’t dare.”
Raising an eyebrow, I go to stand up but she quickly places a hand on my shoulder to stop me, then sits down next to me with a huff. “I can’t believe you were going to do it again.”
“I’ll never reject a dare.”
