She appears exasperated, like she can’t believe I’m still talking. Which, in a way, I can’t either, becausewhat the fuck? I never work this hard for a chick. Hell, if I were smart, I would’ve taken the flight attendant up on her blatant offer and gone behind the curtain for a quick blow job. I could’ve at least imagined it was my little mouse with her pouty lips around my cock.
The problem in taking the easy route with the stewardess is that it’s been a while since I’ve been challenged, and the thrill of the chase is egging me on. The poor girl next to me has no idea what she’s in for.
She finally answers after pondering the question. “Nice. Kind.Considerate. Not condescending or sexist. And interested in more than just sex.”
“Hm. Sounds boring.”
“Not that you would know.”
“I know that I’m anything but boring,” I smirk and wiggle my brows.
“You’re obnoxious, is what you are.”
“Obnoxiously handsome?”
She scoffs in reply, quickly returning her attention to her device.
Curious, I glance down without angling my head to take a peek, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out it’s a romance. The explicit sex scene gives it away because I’m only one page in, and holy shit, it’s basically porn on pages. No wonder she was annoyed by the interruption.
I’m literally getting hard from reading over her shoulder, and don’t notice her staring at me as I’m impatiently waiting for the page to turn. When it doesn’t, I look up to find her smirking.
“Enjoying yourself, are you?” She casts her eyes toward the bulge in my pants and back up with raised brows.
“Well, shit, can you blame me? You’re practically waving porn in my face.”
“No. I’m reading, andyou’resnooping.”
“It started that way, but now I’m reading along with you, so could you hurry and flip the page?”
She scowls before tilting her head in contemplation. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll let you read over my shoulder the rest of the flight if you stop talking or trying to hit on me.”
I lean close and whisper, “There was notryingabout it—Iwashitting on you.”
“Fine, no deal.” She passes the tablet to the hand closest to me and angles it away. But not before I caught her telltale shudder.
“Okay, okay, I’ll behave.” I give in, holding my hands up in defeat.
“No more talking?”
Without another word, I make the motion of zipping my lips, and she smiles in triumph. Damn. She’s something else.
I’m fully entrenched in the story by the time the wheels touch down at LAX, so I’m not happy when Mouse exits the book to make a grab for her phone.
“Hey, I was reading that,” I protest.
“I need to send a text. You won’t have time to finish it anyway,” she says while typing.
I’m tempted to ask the name of the book so I can download it myself. I’ll have plenty of time between the layover and one more flight.
The quick visit to Bozeman was to meet with a potential client at his second home in Big Sky. We’re talking big money. But I’m used to it. I’d say 95% of my clients are the ten percenters, and about 50% are the one percenters. I’m a sought-after divorce attorney who’s not called the Butcher simply because it’s my last name.
I’m as fierce in the courtroom as out of it, cutting my opponents to shreds. Hence the nickname and the reason I became the youngest partner in the law firm I’ve been at since college. Starting as an intern, I was offered a full-time position after passing my bar exam four years ago, and have worked my ass off since, proving myself tenfold with the amount of money I’ve brought in.
It’s why clients like Jim Marlow call me specifically. They onlyattainme, however, if I believe them worthy. In this instance, Jim’s wife decided she was ready for a younger version. The proof was undeniable in the pictures he provided from a private investigator, and was all I needed to accept his case. With the contract signed, it’ll be weeks of gathering records and data, which I gratefully have Warren for.
“Is this your destination, then?” I ask, assuming she’s informing someone she landed.
She never did answer whether she had a boyfriend or tell me her name.
