Holy fuck, I love women who faint in my arms from too much passion. Heaving bosoms, breasts spilling out of their—-what the fuck are those things called? Corsets?”
“I have no idea,” Sasha says, still laughing at me. “I’m not a romance girl.”
“No? But you like dining with me?” I take her hand from her lap and stroke it gently with my fingertips. Her eyes dart down and watch for a second before she drags them back up to my face. “And I sorta pulled out all the stops on this date. I mean, I had planned on spooning you dessert and licking the sweetness from your lips after each bite. I can feel the cold and taste the ice cream in my head right now.”
“You’re pretty good,” she says in a whisper.
“I really am.” And then we both laugh. “I’m driving myself crazy. I’m ready to rip your dress off, bend you over this table, and take you hard right now.”
She just stares at me. Silent. I can almost hear her heart beating. If she had a corset on, her breasts would be heaving. She might even faint.
“But you don’t do hard, do you, Sasha? You run away from that sort of thing. So I’ll control myself and be happy with a kiss.”
The pocket doors slide open and the flight attendants enter. “We need to clear the table, sir. We’ll be landing in five minutes. They’ve sent a car for you.”
I sigh. So fucking close. “Thanks, Essie.” And then I look at Sasha and shrug. “Foiled again. Timing is everything.”
I kiss her hand and even though I might be making it up, I think I hear a sigh of regret from her as well.
My heart pounds as Jax withdraws his lips. When one of the young flight attendants smiles as she clears the table, I get self-conscious and snatch my hand from his. I place it in my lap and then lace my fingers together for lack of something better to do. I’d start wringing them, if I didn’t feel like I was a fish in a bowl, every movement scrutinized by the man making my heart beat faster.
“Thank you, Essie, Lynn, and Mari. It was a wonderful presentation.”
All three of the girls smile. The one called Mari might even have winked at my date. “Yes,” I say, my Aston manners catching up with me. “Thank you. It was delicious.”
Jax takes my hand again as the girls exit this part of the cabin, pulling the pocket doors closed behind them as they go. “We’re not buckled in—which is against protocol. But I’ll hold your hand and keep you safe.” He smiles warmly at me. “If that’s OK?”
I nod. I have nothing. I’m not a player. I know there are girls out there who do this kind of thing for a living. They scout out prospective husbands. Dress up, put on a show, try to hook one with the bait.
I have no bait. I’m cute—not sophisticated like my mom’s friend Rook, or badass like her friend Veronica, or even smart and sassy like my mom, but cute. A Smurf, they used to call me. And those ladies are the only real role models I ever had growing up. That’s it. The extent of my wily ways with men come from half-ass copy-catting people who have more game in their pinky fingers than I have in my whole body.
So I’m at a complete loss here. Because Jax insists on treating me like a woman. And I’ve spent a good number of years trying to avoid this kind of scenario. The kind that sweeps you off your feet. The kind that jumpstarts your heart and makes it hum in a way you never thought possible. The kind that makes you doubt all those pledges you made to yourself through the years.
I will never love again. I will never give my heart to a man. I will never have to endure the crushing reality that comes after the only person I ever wanted to be with practically begged me to forget about him.
I tried it, it just didn’t work. I can’t just erase my first crush. I can’t just throw away the one thing I held onto after my father died. I kept the boys at bay all during high school. I didn’t even lose my virginity until my first year of college. Ford made sure of that. The memory of his crazy overprotective antics as I grew up make me smile.
So I don’t