“I don’t like politicians.”
Silence coated the cabin.
“Yet you’re sitting on my lap.”
“You’re part politician. And, something leads me to believe I’d hardly have a choice.”
“You wouldn’t,” he admitted.
“Yeah, you give stalker.”
“I’m a lot of things, my baby, but a stalker ain’t one. Maybe a kidnapper. I’ll take that.”
“As if it’s any better.”
“It is, because who has time to waste? Waiting. Watching. Shit is weird. Especially when I could just snatch your fine ass up and have you for breakfast by sun up.”
Sniggering, I wrapped my arms around Ishmael’s body. I was so safe here.
“I have a gun. You are aware, right?”
“And that motherfucker is not a prop.” He chortled.
I quieted and allowed my heart to feel things my head was still waiting for. I wasn’t regretful of my actions. Neither was I remorseful. Ishmael had been warned. He’d played a very stupid game and gotten a very stupid prize as a result.
I didn’t give a damn that things between us were unofficial. If his plan was to pursue me, his dick belonged to me the second the plan was made. Giving that away, and possibly procreating, was a violation.
“Did it hurt?”
“Not as much as hurting you did.”
He pulled my hand to his mouth.
Muah.
Muah.
“Not nearly as much,” Ishmael mumbled.
Our flight landed in the middle of nowhere. Ishmael never released my hand. He led me down the stairs and down the dock to the awaiting boat.
“Careful, love.”
I stepped on, finding the smell of the ocean to be soothing. Ishmael pulled me along until we reached our seats. Heat blew through the vents, warming us instantly. Our positions on the boat didn’t differ much from the plane. I rested my head on his chest. He closed his hand around mine.
“I’m sleepy,” I confessed, another yawn tearing my mouth open.
“Thirty-six minutes, my baby. Your rest is waiting.”
Take me back. My mind drifted.
With my head pressed against the door, I watched as Ishmael made his way down the cement path. His landscaper was a scientist in his past life. The greenery was plentiful, but so well-manicured that you hardly noticed it didn’t belong, had been planted, and didn’t come from the soil beneath it.
“I miss you already.”
Gloom danced around me, promising despondency if I didn’t keep busy. Both Ishmael’s absence and presence werepunishment, because each second I had him around I was dreading the second he wouldn’t be.
He halted. His body turned a hundred and eighty degrees. Black adorned his frame. I fought the urges stemming from my center.
