Layover (Open Skies #1) - Becca Jameson Page 0,17

read about it of course, but never considered something like that for me in real life.”

“But you’ve fantasized.”

She shrugged. “Hasn’t everyone?”

“I have no idea, but I’m not complaining. You’re so pure. It’s hot.”

It was hot all right. Her face was burning from the level of intimate conversation they’d already engaged in, and she’d been here all of five minutes. “Yeah, well, you should know I have no idea what you might be expecting of me. I’ll probably fuck it up.”

He chuckled. “For right now, I expect you to talk to me while I feed you. We’ll see how things go after that. I don’t follow some sort of protocol. It’s more of a natural thing. I’ll take my cues from you and do my best to meet your needs.”

“My needs?”

“Yep. That’s what it’s all about, really. Dominance and submission, I mean. I love nothing more than fulfilling a woman’s every desire.” He tapped her nose. “And you, little one, get off on having a firm hand in control. So, if we move to my bedroom later, then I’ll expect you to submit to me. But for right now, I want you to relax and tell me everything there is to know about Libertad Garcia.”

She smiled at him. “Your Spanish accent is amazing.”

“I learned it in the Army. Part of the job. Language immersion. I’m not the best, but I can get by.” He tugged her hand as he turned toward the room.

She was shocked to find it empty. “You, uh, lack furniture.”

He laughed. “Yep. Just bought this place a month ago. I haven’t had a chance to fully furnish it. I’ve been working a lot, so I had to choose one room at a time on the weekends. I started with the master bedroom and then moved to the office. One of these days maybe I’ll add a couch,” he joked.

“Destiny told me you got out of the Army recently.”

“Yes. I was tired. It was time.” He slowly led her through his empty living room and into his kitchen on the other side. This room lacked a table and regular chairs, but it at least had an island and two bar stools. “And here we have my equally unfurnished kitchen.” He swung an arm around. The room smelled of pizza and there were two boxes on the island.

Libby liked the house. It was a new build in a new neighborhood, so the walls were standard builder off-white. The carpet in the living room was beige. The kitchen echoed with every word from the lack of furniture. The cabinets were a dark brown, and the island and counters were a brown speckled granite.

“I hope you like pizza,” he said as he lured her closer and pulled out a barstool.

“Are there people who don’t like pizza?” she inhaled the delicious scent, surprised she could manage an appetite amid the sexual tension she’d experienced all day that had only intensified since her arrival.

He shrugged. “I haven’t met any, and I’d probably be seriously concerned about you if you told me you hated it.”

“I’m safe for now then.” She smiled up at him. Even though she was now seated higher than her normal short self on the stool, he was still towering over her. “You might be seriously concerned about me for any number of reasons after you get to know me, but I do pass the pizza test.”

“Good.” He slid the top box next to the bottom box and lifted both lids. “That brings us to the next question. Are you picky or easy to please?” He lifted a brow and nodded toward the two pizzas. One was cheese only. The other was supreme.

“Since you worded it that way, I’d say I pass pizza test number two. I’m not fond of anchovies or pineapple, but everything else is delicious.”

“Excellent.” He closed the lid on the cheese pizza and spun around to stick it in the fridge.

“You bought two pizzas just in case I didn’t like the toppings?” Impressive.

“Yep. It won’t go to waste. I’ll add a bunch of stuff to it tomorrow and pop it in the oven.” He grabbed plates from the cabinet and then returned to the fridge for a handful of sodas. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.” He set a cola, an orange, a root beer, and a lemon-lime on the island.

“Did you also buy all these with me in mind?”

“Yep.”

“That’s so…thoughtful. Thank you.” She reached for the root beer.

“Normally, I would offer you wine or beer or a