I swore his laser eyes were setting fire to my lips. The look was so heated the back of my neck started to sweat as he continued to stare at them. The energy, or air around us, whatever it was, seemed to come alive and hum as if kissing me was a thought in his mind. But, it couldn't be; this had to be me misreading the entire situation. See, that's the hazard of being near someone as perfect as Jameson Holt. The attention he gives, his disarming charm, the sheer sexiness he suggests, it makes you feel like it's only for you when it's not; it's just his natural charm. My fingers fumbled to open a bag of chips and it exploded all over our laps. I was leaning my elbow over the seat divider laughing. "My head is going to hurt like hell tomorrow. I think I drank way too much." I tried fanning the chips off our pants but they were sticky little things.
He snorted a laugh from somewhere above me. "You trying to get my pants off, Miss Novak?" Oh, crap. His words caused my head to snap in his direction.
Damn those hazel eyes. Soft sage. Spun gold.
Stunning eyes that still lingered on my face and moved slowly down my neck and body in such a way that made every inch of my skin blush. His lips parted slightly and a small sliver of tongue and teeth flitted out to wet them. Eyes darkened, deadly pull of a smile that made me swallow whatever thick lump had lodged in my throat. My hands clenched tightly into clammy little fists.
I'm reading this situation wrong, right?
James leaned back against his seat, blinked, and ran both his hands through his hair, tugging when he got to the ends. "Whoa, sorry," he said under his breath.
That's when the realization dawned on me: I was definitely reading this situation wrong and more importantly; this was someone I worked for. Shit. I was acting unprofessional and stupid. "Mr. Holt. Oh, my God, I'm so drunk I don't even know where the heck I am. This is probably the most unprofessional thing you've ever seen. I am so sorry."
I felt the landing gear open beneath my feet, the loud clank of metal pulling me back down to earth. "You needed this, Lex," he said. A gorgeous smile tugged at his lips. A dangerous smile, one that had me acknowledging even one kiss of Mr. Holt's and my heart would not survive. "You weren't unprofessional in the least. As a matter of fact, this was one of the best flights I've had in a while."
We matched smiles. Nice, friendly, professional smiles. Yet, the urge to climb in his lap and nibble his lower lip was maddening. I desperately tried to ignore the heat of his gaze, so I started singing what was supposed to be my wedding song in my head and kept my eyes fixed on some random focal point on my hands.
There's a vague memory of stumbling down steps onto a tarmac with James laughing beside me, his arms wrapped around my waist. Then there were flashes of a chauffer in a sleek black car and buildings racing past us as we toasted to douchebags, sluts, and new friendships, while singing songs about throwing away garbage.
Then his hands helped me fumble with keys. Strong, warm arms carried me up the stairs. My bedroom door. James leaning against my wall saying something like, "You need to take care of yourself, be selfish for awhile. Where do you keep your pajamas? I’ll help you undress."
"Real subtle, Holt," I said aloud.
He gave me a huge smile. A smile that made me, if I'm remembering correctly, throw my panties at him. There’s a hazy memory of his fingertips dangling them teasingly, bringing them up to his face, and breathing them in.
I think I need to go I remember him saying, yet standing there, staring at me, not moving to leave.
S'kay I thought. I'm just going to pull the covers over my head and cry at top volume, but not because of them. And in the morning when I sober up, I'll get up and take a shower, and masturbate the fuck out of my showerhead thinking of you.
Shit. I hope I didn't say that out loud.
7
Jameson
“You may think I have a dirty mind, but it’s just explicitly creative.” @Kavon #SexOnTheBrain
I was so screwed.
Her bedroom was soft, low lit. A crimson colored light fell through her window, casting a warm sinful glow along her skin. Somewhere my brain whispered low, deep, I needed to leave. Yet, I watched her sleep. Messed up, I know, but I couldn't help myself.
I forgot to ask her if Kevin Trager knew Alex Kavon. The reason she was put on that plane with me and I couldn't think about anything but how funny she was, how beautiful she was, how stupid a guy like Kevin Trager was.
I was so screwed.
We stumbled into her apartment together. Not intentionally, but the laughter and the conversation kept us going. She could talk about anything—one of those people who knew useless trivial facts about everything. It fascinated me. We laughed and teased, flirted and talked; all while I imagined her mouth on my cock or riding me deep and slow.
I sat down beside her. Gently tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a strange place I found myself; I'd never wanted to crawl into bed and taste someone more than at that very moment. The only thing stopping me was how intoxicated we both were. She's not the kind of woman I could just sleep with though; she'd want more, and she'd already been hurt enough.
I slid out my phone and snapped a picture of her. Creepiest thing I ever did. She still had her shirt on, so it wasn't that creepy. Unfortunately, the blankets covered everything else. I just wanted her image, something to stare at to remind me of her when this situation was all over, when she marries the loser.
I walked out of her apartment with the hardest dick ever erected; even my driver looked at me weird. Made me feel closer to God.
I barely remember the drive home or crashing into bed, alone.
Evan woke me up the next afternoon with a phone call and invite for a late lunch. Grumbling and whining about some problem, I said I'd meet up with him at our regular lunch place, just to shut him up. I really didn't have time for his stupid nonsense, but I needed to get out anyway. I needed to clear my head of the mess it was in.
Of course, he was late. I sat down in a booth and ordered a beer. Last week, the only problem in my head was this magazine and keeping it afloat for the old man. Now, within just a few days, my head was spinning thinking about a pair of underwear that was flung at me by the sexiest woman I'd ever met. She was brilliant, funny, and sexy as sin, and her panties were burning holes into my fingertips as I toyed with the lace of them in my pocket.
I barely noticed when Evan slid into the booth across from me. Yeah, too busy running my thumb across the silk material in my pocket, trying desperately not to take them out and smell them again.
"I do not understand women at all. At all," Evan grunted as he slid into the booth across from me. "They are like another species or something. The things they can get men to do..."
"Uh huh," I mumbled, not listening to a word he said.
I wondered if she'd really go through with the wedding. She'd never be able to trust him again. Honestly, I can think of very few things in life that are more dishonorable and disgusting to me than cheating on someone that loves you. Be a man, leave if you want to, but don't pull tricks behind her back. Women aren't stupid. Eventually, the truth will come out; it always does.
"Are you even listening to me?" Evan reached across the table and nudged my arm, making me almost spill my beer.
"Humph," I mumbled back, mushing his hands away from my beer.