Page 71 of My Lucky Star
I’d been hoping to continue our conversation, but I couldn’t risk it. After a while, the first flight attendant must have alerted the others since I noticed their interest in us growing to the point that I could have sworn they’d set up some sort of eavesdropping roster.
Whatever ‘twenty questions’ was, I wanted to play that with Aria. I needed answers. Each one gave me another glimpse into her mind, like a missing puzzle piece that only made sense in context. I could feel the picture emerging, and I couldn’t wait to complete it. Whatever had intrigued me at first, now held me spellbound. She was nothing like anyone else, yet familiar, like I’d known her in another life.
I could follow Aria’s logic on how random and uncontrollable life seemed, but I couldn’t fully agree with her. And deep down, I didn’t think even Aria fully believed her own words. Part of her was screaming for something more. Meaning. Purpose. Anything to believe in.
She was lost and I wasn’t helping. I was using her likeness with Burcu to advance my own career. No matter what I said, no matter how I pursued her or how much I liked her, she was doing me a huge favor and getting nothing in return. Why had she agreed to this?
I sat back, trying to clear my head. Maybe it was good we couldn’t talk for a while. I needed to think. Because she was right. I had free will, even if I sometimes felt like I was floating through life, pulled on a raft by my brother, my family, the circumstances.
Whatever Emir had planned or organized, I had to take responsibility for this. I was dragging this woman across the world and asking her to play my girlfriend, hold her tongue and hide her true identity. Emir had made up a story of laryngitis and how Burcu had to rest her voice. Doctor’s orders. I hadn’t even told her that yet. She knew nothing of what was coming, yet she sat quietly with her hands in her lap, no doubt trying hard not to fiddle with her nails, ask sharp questions or make jokes.
Waiting for the flight attendant to finally leave, I squeezed her hand and leaned close to whisper. “Thank you. The flight attendant is watching us. Emir told her you have laryngitis and you can’t speak.”
“Okay.” She nodded; her eyes unreadable.
“Are you okay? I know this sucks. I wanted to talk to you, but we have to be careful. They’re all listening. She might try to take a photo.”
Her shoulders tensed. “My hair is all wrong. I’m not wearing a hat.”
“It’s fine tied up like that,” I assured her. “No one can tell.”
I loved the way strands of her dark hair had escaped the messy bun, floating about her face like they had a mind of their own.
I’d never been a huge fan of Burcu’s sleek hairdo. Her hair had been too perfect, too tidy, and constantly fussed over by a legion of people. I wanted to mess it up and turn it into bed hair. Aria’s was already there, making it easy for me to imagine myself in bed with her, witnessing those loose strands falling, one by one.
I didn’t miss the way she favored her left side, massaging her neck. I waited until the ‘fasten seat belts’ sign switched off. Knowing she couldn’t refuse me with words, I unfastened her seatbelt and turned her sideways in her seat. She tensed for a second but relaxed as soon as my fingers landed on her neck, softly rubbing and loosening the knots under her skin.
The trembly whimper that slipped from her mouth shot straight to my dick, but I kept massaging, ignoring the need building up in my body. I couldn’t remember wanting anything, or anyone, this badly. Not since Burcu. I remembered a different hunger from my early career, being desperate for the next role, the recognition and fame and after I had it, that hunger lingered, driving me to the next thing.
Wanting something was healthy. Inhaling Aria’s ice cream scent, I felt invigorated. This is what I needed. I needed her to resist me, to force me out of my pampered funk, back to that human state of perpetual desire for more that kept us all moving.
Why didn’t my career inspire that desire anymore? Why didn’t I want this next role? I knew it mattered to Emir and my family. It was a lot of money. It made sense. But everything paled compared to my desire for Aria, to hear her say those words, to see her give up the fight. I wanted her to resist, yet I lived for that moment of surrender.
Was Aria right? Did I only want what I couldn’t have? Would I stop wanting her if she gave in? I couldn’t imagine it, but I wasn’t particularly reliable. I was the guy mooning at the paparazzi, the one that had to be ‘managed’. Sadness invaded my chest, welling and mixing with physical arousal like a cocktail of oil and water.
Aria moaned, further relaxing against my hands. Did she know what she was doing to me? I spread my legs a bit wider but couldn’t make more room in my jeans and had to make sure the airline blanket obscured my crotch.
I finished the massage, pushing her back to her own seat. “Okay, you’re done.”
I turned to my in-flight entertainment and chose an episode of CSI that mentioned something about a decomposing body. Perfect. I needed to rein in my thoughts.
