Crave (His Second Chance with Heiress Bryn Christmas Duet #1) - Z.L. Arkadie Page 0,15

But he’d be disappointed. She wasn’t the kind of person who took personal photos with a cell phone. I knew this, because from the moment I met her, she’d ignited my curiosity, and I watched and studied her as though she were a new client.

When I first met her, it took me less than twenty-four hours to devise an initial report on her. Firstly, she wasn’t interested in me. She saw me as a preppy, and she knew what that meant. My conservative and clean appearance—the physical manifestation of trust and sobriety—was a front for concealing deeply buried shit that was opposite of what I was presenting on the outside. She was right to prejudge me that way. I’d grown up in that world. I should have been that guy. But when nature and nurture fought to claim me, I’d tried hard to be nothing like my father had been, and I’d succeeded. To change Bryn’s mind about me, I laid bare the parts of myself that I wouldn’t usually show others whenever I was around her.

Secondly, I suspected by the way her eyes passed over me that she liked what she saw but wasn’t interested in getting to know me better. I chose to wear her down and remain close to her as much as I could. During the weeks we worked together, knowing I would see her every day gave me butterflies in my stomach.

Then, one night, after dinner with her family, she rewarded me for my efforts. Her hot, wet, tight pussy overwhelmed my senses with a pleasure I’d never known. I wanted to come in less than five seconds. The enjoyment of my cock thrusting in and out of her became the best kind of torture as I fought not to explode. I couldn’t look her in the face, but I did. I couldn’t kiss her, but my lips wouldn’t leave hers alone. She was finally giving herself to me. I wanted to take it all. Her soft, warm skin… her engorged nipples, hard and tasty against my tongue…

Shit… I forced my eyes off her cute little bubble ass walking down the corridor on her way to catch her flight. While the bartender kept ogling her, I secured Bryn’s cell phone.

“Shit,” the bartender said, finally looking away from her. “She’s a goddess.”

“Agreed,” I said, sliding her phone into my pocket. Agreed.

I’d been on my way to catch my chartered flight when I caught a glimpse of her sitting alone at the bar. At first, I hadn’t realized the leggy blonde was Bryn. The light from above caught the side of her face. She was engrossed in whatever she was doing. I wasn’t one of those guys whose tongue hung out of their mouths every time they caught sight of an exceptionally beautiful woman, but after doing a double take, I stopped in my tracks, rubbed my chest over my heart, and muttered, “Well, damn.” It was her.

Coming off the taxing weekend I’d had with the Lovells, and considering the fact that Bryn was the last person on earth I thought I would see at an airport bar, I’d taken her presence there as a sign.

Sitting in the airplane, I held her cell phone, rubbing the back of it. There was no signal thousands of miles up in the air at cruising speed. I pressed the home button. Just as I’d guessed, her device wasn’t password protected. Having her phone made me feel as if she was sitting beside me. I was craving her beyond reason. After I ran into Bryn, I’d forgotten about how my weekend with the Lovells had worried the hell out of me. I didn’t want her worrying, though, so without crossing the line by infringing on her privacy, I pulled her phone number off her device. I knew the old number didn’t work anymore, because I’d tried calling it dozens of times to no avail.

Then I sent Bryn a text message letting her know that I had her cell phone. I would have flown out to Colorado to be with her that night, but I had a meeting in LA that I couldn’t miss. I was going to be sitting down with Pedro Santiago, a political candidate and long shot for winning as mayor of Alhambra, California. My father didn’t know about the meeting.

I read Pedro’s profile, digging up as much information about him as I could. He was my kind of candidate, not Boomer’s. When it came to candidates, the pickings