Easier said than done. He unbuckled his seat and rushed to her side, occupying the seat next to hers. Giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he grabbed her hand in his, threading their fingers.
The innocent touch stoked a fire within him, quickly raising his internal temperature. She moaned, and he gave her a little squeeze, and she responded with a little tug of her own, causing lust to thunder in his blood.
With his free hand, he loosened his collar, wishing he could take her right there and then. Nonsense. He couldn’t hurt her without any planning. Damn it, her palm slicked against his, and he felt fresh cold sweat. Was she scared? Did he…frighten her?
“Why are you sweating?” he asked, hoping it was just the fear of flying. Either way, he needed to know.
His heart missed a beat or two.
She glanced away for a moment, and he was about to loosen his hold on her hand and go back to his seat when she turned her face back to him. “I…”
“Tell me, Amaya. You can tell me anything,” he said in a low voice. Anything? Why did he promise her that level of intimacy? This was sex, nothing more.
“I want to kiss you,” she blurted out, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Hell, his entire scalp seared with awareness. “But you’re so big, and so intense, and obviously much more experienced than me. I’m afraid when it does happen, I’m going to—”
He didn’t let her finish.
Pulling her close, he captured her lips with his, feeling the tremble of her flesh. Or was it his? Shit, he couldn’t tell anymore. Desire skyrocketed through him as he coaxed her lips open. A sweet, sexy moan filled the air, and she parted her mouth further. He plunged his tongue inside, finding hers and starting a sensual dance—stroking, urging, and commanding. Blood surged through his veins, heading south, hardening his cock until it ached for her. She circled her hands around his neck, bringing him closer, and he suppressed a groan.
What the fuck? A cold chill rolled into his gut. She’d said she’d been scared to kiss him, when he should have been the one frightened. The woman squirming in his arms opened the doors of heaven and hell at the same time, and he had no idea which one would cause less damage in the end.
Chapter Three
Amaya lowered her hands to his shoulders, caressing the hard muscles, then glided them to his chest. She placed her fingers over his heart, its maddening pace sending her own on a spike.
She’d never felt like this. Sure, she’d dated a few times and kissed men—boys, not men. Theo’s presence alone diminished any male suitor she’d encountered before him, erasing from her mind any mediocre, distant memory.
She squeezed his pecs, wishing he’d get rid of the inconvenient layer of clothes keeping them apart. A feral need to have him between her legs bolted through her, and she intensified her kiss in a desperate effort to give and get more.
Oh, how he teased her…meshing his tongue with hers, then grazing her lower lip with his teeth, only to distract her as he dropped his hand behind her. When he reached her lower back, she clenched her thighs, wishing he were in between them.
Heat sizzled over her flesh, and suddenly, her breasts grew larger and heavier. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. What would it be like to have him lick her tingling nipples? She wanted to find out—oh, hell yeah.
“Mr. Rhodes,” she said, realizing she’d never called him anything. Her last thread of common sense warned her he was still her boss in the sense he’d pay her bills—by providing the money that changed her life. What if she used his first name and turned him off with the lack of formality?
He disengaged the kiss enough so his breath still fanned her cheek, nuzzling her. “Theo. Call me Theo.”
Her breath came in a gasp, eyes still closed. “Theo,” she said, her voice hushed, as if pronouncing a secret code no one else had access to.
“Come with me.”
She opened her eyes and found him watching her with a glint of lust in his black eyes. God, he was beautiful…in a way that made girls lose their minds. In a way that weakened those who were strong. And shit, she wasn’t even super strong to begin with… “Where?”
He stood, and she glanced around, finding no trace of the flight attendant. He stretched out his hand, and she unbuckled, then surged to her feet, a bit too quickly. A rush of blood pounded in her head, working its way down her body. They’d taken off. Through the windows, fluffy clouds greeted her. Whoa. She’d not even noticed. My first flight and I missed the most important part. Not that she minded.
He took her to a door she assumed was a restroom.
Except it wasn’t.
A bed occupied the enclosed area, complete with a silky bedspread and a few pillows. She looked around, fascinated. A bedroom? In a private jet?
“Take off your clothes, Amaya.”
She drew in a breath. What did she expect, to have sex with her Spanx still on? At some point, he’d see the curvy hips and the stubborn roundness in her belly she couldn’t get rid of no matter how many meals she skipped or how much walking around she did as a waitress.
She pulled the black cotton dress over her head, tossed it to the side, and stood before him in her mismatched beige bra and black underwear. God, the underwear happened to be a high-waist, mid-thigh black short she’d used to slim her figure. After all, real life didn’t have the special lighting from Madame Alexa’s stage. A shiver skated down her spine, and her nipples puckered against the cotton of her lingerie.
He didn’t take his clothes off, much to her disappointment; instead, he kept watching her with an intent that prickled her arms. Her heart beat in staccato, each thump growing louder and stronger. “All of it,” he demanded, his voice sharp as a whip.
