Tell Me You're Mine (The British Billionaires #1) - J. S. Scott Page 0,6
existed, but the proof was pretty damn elusive.
“You’ve never had an orgasm. Seriously? How is that even possible?”
I froze as a deep, definitely British male voice sounded right beside me.
Startled, I jerked my gaze from my phone to the previously empty space next to me, only to meet a pair of sexy green eyes that were staring at me in total disbelief.
When in the hell did this British Adonis sit down?
Obviously, the seat next to me wasn’t going to stay vacant. In fact, there was one very muscular, very attractive body filling up the space that had been vacant just a few minutes ago.
All of my senses sprang to attention as I inhaled, and caught a whiff of the most alluring, masculine scent my olfactory receptors had ever experienced.
I fought the urge to just close my eyes and wallow in the fragrance that screamed hot, unbridled, deliciously dirty sex. I had no idea how I recognized that since I’d never personally indulged in that kind of sexual encounter. Ever.
I squirmed in my seat. The guy was close. Too close. In fact, he was leaning sideways in my direction so he could…
I flipped my phone over so he couldn’t see it, and then leaned back to avoid whatever sexy pheromones this man seemed to exude in abundance. “You’re reading my texts? Who does that?”
I swallowed hard as I put a hand on his shoulder to push him over, so he wasn’t encroaching on my personal space.
He moved like he suddenly realized that he was being incredibly rude.
I flipped my cell phone over again, and my fingers fired off a brief message to Kylie.
Me: Gotta go. Taking off. Catch you at home.
I quickly got out of the text window, put my phone in airplane mode, and shoved it back into my purse without looking at the jerk sitting next to me.
Like this entire day hasn’t been crappy enough?
Of course the guy sitting next to me is a creeper! It’s the perfect end to a really bad day. Perfect. Just. Freaking. Perfect.
He straightened up in his seat completely as he finally spoke. “You looked upset, like you were going to cry, so I read your messages to find out why you looked so unhappy. I found your texts…fascinating.”
I turned my eyes to him again, and took a long, hard look at my offender, now that he was back in his own space.
I was angry, but I wasn’t blind. The man was gorgeous, and judging by the way his peridot-green eyes were looking back at me, I could tell he was also slightly…amused.
I had to admit that he was the most attractive creeper I’d ever seen.
I gawked back at him because I could. He was staring at me, so I proceeded to evaluate him thoroughly, without a single ounce of remorse for blatantly checking him out.
He was probably in his early to mid-thirties. The way he wore his dark-gray custom suit made him seem…sophisticated. He appeared to be confident to the point of arrogance. Everything about him was immaculate, from his dark, thick hair to the way his subtle cologne made me want to lean closer so I could inhale the scent until I was drunk on it.
Everything about this man screamed hard control and self-discipline.
So why in the hell had he leaned over to read my text messages?
His appearance and his behavior just weren’t jiving.
The only thing that made this man softer was the teasing look in his eyes right now, and that irritatingly pleasant baritone voice.
No doubt that sexy, low baritone with that appealing British accent could make most women drop their panties.
But I wasn’t most women. I was Nicole never-had-a-fling-or-dropped-my-panties-easily-in-my-entire-life Ashworth. I wasn’t a victim to my sexual desires. At least I never had been...
I turned my gaze toward the window, determined to ignore the way my body felt completely primed and ready to crawl up this man’s body and demand he satisfy what he’d created.
Dammit! I hated the way he made me feel, and I had to wonder if he was secretly laughing at me.
Honestly, I hoped he didn’t say another word for the entire flight. Kylie was right. There was something about his low baritone and his sexy British accent that made me want to forget he was invading my privacy. Part of me actually wanted him to keep encroaching on my personal space so I could absorb his tantalizing scent again.
Suddenly, my brain overrode my hormone-stimulated body. What in the hell was I thinking?