“I know what you mean.” I looked at her lips. I wanted to kiss her so badly. There was a light in her eyes as she looked at me. She made me feel happy and at peace. And I didn’t feel like I was missing anything, which was strange because normally I never felt content. Normally, I felt like I had to be doing something. Figuring out some plan, working on some agenda, taking over some business. I could never just be at peace. There was always more money to be made.
But as I sat here, all I wanted was to talk to her. To get to know her better. To see her smile, to hear her laugh, to learn more about her, to figure out what made her tick. And I wanted to touch her and tease her. I wanted to hear her calling out my name. I wanted to feel her on top of me. I wanted to be inside of her.
And as she sat in her seat, sipping that champagne, I knew that I had to have her. I wouldn’t feel normal, I wouldn’t feel right until I was inside of her fucking her brains out until she screamed my name so loudly that the entire world heard. I needed to possess this woman. I needed to own her. I needed to feel something. And I knew that she could make me feel it. Even if it was for one night or one week. Even if it was for one hour.
I ran my fingers up her arm and she froze, her eyes staring at me, widening, her pupils dilating in shock and excitement. Her lips trembled slightly.
“What are you doing, Dylan?” she said, looking at my fingers and then back into my eyes.
“I was just seeing how warm you felt,” I said softly as I leaned closer to her.
“Why are you trying to see how warm I feel?” Her voice was soft and breathy.
I smirked as my lips came closer to her face. Her eyes widened even more, and I could tell that she was anticipating a kiss. She was anticipating the feel of my lips against hers. I wanted to reach my hand down to her breasts and rub my fingers over her nipples until they hardened. I wanted her to squirm in her seat as her panties grew wet for me, and slip my fingers down the front of her pants and slowly into her underwear until I felt her wetness for me. And I’d rub her clit and she’d move and she’d beg me to keep touching her.
“Abby …” I stared into her eyes. They were a beautiful light brown. Mesmerizing.
She stared back at me. “Yes, Dylan?” She shifted closer to me, maybe unconsciously. Her lips parted slightly, almost as if she were begging me to kiss her. To take her.
“I just want you to know, Ms. Waldron …”
“Yes?” she said.
“I’m glad you’re my secretary and …”
“Yes?” she said, moving even closer.
I could feel the warmth of her breath on my skin and my cock immediately grew hard. I wanted this woman. I wanted to tease her and taunt her and tantalize her. There was a thrill in the game that we played with each other.
“Yes, Dylan?” she said again.
“I forgot to tell you that when we get to the hotel, I expect you to turn down my bed for me and to make it in the morning.”
Her expression suddenly changed. “What?”
“I said I expect you to make my bed in the morning and to turn it down for me at night. Comprendo?”
“What?” She pulled back, aware that I was back to being an asshole again. Because even though I wanted her and even though I wanted to make her mine, my inner defenses couldn’t stop from branching out and protecting my heart.
Chapter 30
Abby
* * *
I’ve had a dream for a long time. A dream of flying around the world with the love of my life. I daydream about resting my head on his shoulder as he kisses me on the forehead. And I can feel his love in my very soul. He doesn’t even have to say the words. I just know, and he just knows.
I suppose that’s what they call soulmates.
As I waited in line at security to get on the flight to Edinburgh, I realized that Dylan fit the mental image I had of my dream man. Even though his personality was the exact opposite of the man I dreamed about, there was something about him that drew me to him. The past 24 hours had been a whirlwind as we went around London, eating, drinking, laughing. I’d almost forgotten he was my boss. I’d barely had time to think about anything. And now here we were, about to get onto another flight.
I could feel Dylan’s eyes gazing at me as we stood in line, and I looked up.
“Can I help you, sir?” I flashed a smile to let him know I wasn’t being a total bitch.
“I was just thinking to myself that …” He paused, and I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t say anything else.
“You were thinking to yourself what?” I prompted
“I was thinking to myself that it hasn’t been so bad.”
“What hasn’t been so bad?”
“Flying with you, going on this trip with you.” He frowned. “Normally I can’t stand flying with people. They talk too much or rattle on about something. But you’re not like that.”
“Okay, thank you, I guess?”
“It was a compliment, Abby. You can take a compliment, right?”
“That wasn’t exactly the best compliment I’ve gotten in my life, but thank you.” I glanced over to see the gate agent waving. “Oh look, the security’s calling us.”
“Come on, let’s go then,” he said. We shuffled through security, taking off our shoes and piling our belongings into the plastic trays on the conveyor belt.
I placed my handbag and my hand luggage in a tray and got in line for the metal detector. Dylan was behind me, and I tilted my head slightly over my shoulder to look at him.
“You were in front of me in the line. Do you want to go first?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Ladies first.”
“Why, thank you. Such a gentleman, Dylan.”
“I try to be,” he grinned.
The security people called me. I held my hands up, waited for the machine to go back and forth, and then waited to see if they were going to pat me down. I usually got patted down, and I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like I had metal in my body. But I think there was something in my bra clasp that liked to alert the system. This time, thankfully, I was able to go through.
I stood waiting on my handbag and hand luggage for a few seconds. Dylan coming behind me.
“So now we wait,” he said.
“No, here comes my bag now.” But just as I pointed at it, the security man grabbed it and pulled it to the side.
“Whose bag is this?” he said loudly, and I put my hand up.
“Mine.”
“Can you come with me this way, ma’am? We’re going to have to open the bag.”
“Okay, sure that’s fine,” I nodded. “Can I get my handbag first?”
“Fine,” he grumbled and walked over to the side. I grabbed my handbag and made a face at Dylan, who shrugged sympathetically.
The security guy opened my hand luggage. “Is it okay if I go through it?” He was already putting on a pair of latex gloves.
“It’s fine, I don’t have anything in there to be worried about,” I said. Then I wondered if I was talking too much. Talking too much was a sign of guilt, and I wasn’t guilty about anything. I pressed my lips together. I really had a problem with overthinking.