My (Mostly) Fake Wedding - Penelope Bloom Page 0,3
what she was doing, scribbled something with a pen, and then put it back in her pocket.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I made an amendment. Once I land in New York. I’m officially swearing off men.”
I’d had my fair share of spontaneous connections with women before. But I’d never met someone with quite the odd mixture of shyness and bravery Belle seemed to have. Truth was, it had me hard as a rock and wishing we were somewhere other than an airplane. I would’ve loved to have her to myself for a night. To lay her out on a king-sized bed and watch her sink into a plush pile of pillows.
I took Belle’s hand and pulled her through the aisle toward the bathroom.
A middle-aged stewardess had been loading the concession cart beside the bathroom. She whirled to face us, face contorting into a frown.
“Sir, you can’t—” the stewardess started. “Oh. You’re—”
I knew what she was about to say but cut her off. “This is my wife. She’s pregnant. I know she doesn’t look it, but she gets extreme morning sickness. I’ve got to help her. Unless you’d rather she barf all over first class, that is.”
“Wait, you’re married?” The stewardess asked, clearly baffled.
“Do you want a signed autobiography, or can we go?”
Belle leaned on my arm. She put the back of her hand to her forehead. “Should I throw up on her shirt or her shoes, honey?”
The stewardess was still stammering to come up with a response when we moved past her for the bathrooms.
I shoved Belle inside the small room. She giggled, and I yanked the door shut behind us.
Belle put her palms on the wall behind her, looking up at me until I could see the whites below her eyes. I was reminded that she was running from something, which gave me a slight pang of guilt for doing this with her. She was doing this because she needed an escape, and I wasn’t sure if that made me the bad guy, or if it meant I should thank my luck and enjoy the fuck, as they say. Actually, I wasn’t sure anyone said that.
“Do you do this often?” she asked.
“Take off your dress… with the pockets.”
She looked like she wanted to press me for an answer, but she lowered her eyes and slid one shoulder free from the beige dress she wore, revealing a white bra strap.
I enjoyed watching her shimmy out of her clothes until she was standing a few inches from me in a white bra and panties. She wasn’t the kind of woman to spend her life in the gym or making sure she didn’t put too much dressing on her salad, and I found that only made me like her more. I liked that she was normal. Normal. It felt like coming up from the water to catch a quick breath, except I knew once this was over, I’d be plunged back into that world whether I liked it or not.
She crossed an arm over her stomach, but I took her by the elbow and pushed it away, looking down at her. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Just to clarify,” she said. “We’re going to… I mean, do you have a condom?”
I had one tucked in the back of my phone case. I pulled it out and showed it to her. “To clarify?” I asked, idly running my hand across the smooth skin of her shoulder and sliding it toward the softness of her cleavage. “What else would I bring you in here for?”
“Some guys have weird fetishes. What if you wanted to watch me pee?”
I laughed. “Yeah. that’s not my thing. I brought you in here to fuck your brains out before I’m off the market.”
She hesitated. “Wait. Are you with someone?”
“No. I’m about to be. But until tonight, I’m a free man.”
Belle shook her head, frowning. “No, I mean you’re getting married? So you’re engaged?”
I sighed. “No. I can’t go into all the details. But just trust me. I’m not in a relationship right now. I’m all yours. For now.”
We both were quiet for a few moments, and my words seemed to take on more meaning than I’d intended.
Finally, she reached behind her back and undid her bra.
3
Belle
I lost my mind. I’d left it in my seat back in first class by the window. Whatever I was doing now, whoever was doing it—that wasn’t me. I wasn’t the girl who hooked up with guys I just met. I wasn’t the girl guys