“But you’re close to them still.”
“Yeah,” she says, but I note a subtle downshift in her tone. “Really close.”
I narrow my eyes. “You okay?”
She looks at me with a start, surprised that I picked up on the change in mood. “I’m fine,” she deflects. “Totally fine.”
It’s not even remotely convincing, but I let it go. There’s no point in pushing her for information I already know.
“Goodness,” she says, looking out my window. “I didn’t even realize we were in the air already.”
“Guess my company is effectively distracting.”
Our eyes meet, and she flushes again. I’ve never seen someone whose emotions play out so clearly on their face. Olivia turns her gaze to the bottom of her glass, avoiding mine as much as she can.
A shiver works through her. I can see goosebumps along her wrist. I pull out the soft silk blanket from the seat pocket and toss it over her lap.
“Thank you,” she says, sounding unnecessarily flattered for so simple a gesture.
“You’re not used to this, are you?” I ask.
“Used to what?”
“Having a man pay attention to you.”
She rears back, equal parts surprised and offended. “You don’t know me,” she snaps, more aggressively than she’s said anything else.
“Okay, when’s the last time a man took you by surprise?” I ask bluntly.
“My ex-boyfriend,” she replies. “Tons of times.”
“Name one.”
She gives it some thought, but before she can speak, I interrupt. “If you have to think so hard, then it didn’t happen.”
Her face falls. “They were just little things. Small gestures. I don’t remember them all.”
“A woman like you deserves the world to be handed to her on a silver platter,” I murmur.
She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think I’m the type to inspire that kind of devotion.”
I lean in close, my lips brushing across the shell of her ear. “Oh, kiska, I disagree.”
My fingers dance along her thigh. She turns to look at me, wide-eyed. But all that does is put our lips within kissing distance.
It would be so easy to reach out and take her. Like plucking a ripe fruit off the vine. She’s practically begging me to do it. To devour her. To show her the ecstasy that comes from consuming something so flawless.
But I don’t. Not yet.
First, I want to watch the way she reacts when I tease her.
I slip my hand under the blanket and brush up towards where her thighs meet. Her eyelashes flutter. “What are you doing?” she says in a husky voice very unlike her own.
“I’m finishing what we started,” I reply. As I say it, I’m undoing the button with a flick of my fingers before dragging the zipper of her jeans down slowly.
She swallows. “We can’t. Not here. There are—”
I dip into her panties and press my fingers against her warm lips.
She chokes on her wine, eyes wide in panic. “Aleks, there are people everywhere…！”
“I fucking dare them to stop me.”
She stares at me, lips trembling, searching my face to see if I’m serious. Her body is rigid with tension. Her thighs are squeezed so tightly together I can barely reach her.
But she doesn’t push me away. She wants to be the kind of girl who allows herself to be wild.
I intend to give her that opportunity. She deserves it.
After all, it won’t be long before I’m ripping everything else away.
I glide my fingers down her slit. Her lips part and the panic begins to give way to reckless pleasure. Her legs open ever-so-slightly.
“Is this really happening?” she whispers, more to herself than to me.
I answer her by sliding a finger inside her, revealing how soaking wet she is. I slip in a second, move my fingers in and out, letting her adjust to me slowly. The blanket mimics my movements, rippling like the surface of the ocean and betraying what I’m doing to her underneath it.
She seems to be aware of the same thing, because she glances over her shoulder every few minutes. But no one looks. No one cares. No one knows.
No one but us.
I slide deeper inside her and add my thumb in slow circles over her clit. She braces herself against the seat as her eyes flutter shut. Her body rolls with new waves of sensation and she bites down on her bottom lip to keep the moan from escaping into the sterile hum of the air around us.
I drink in the look on her face. Her jaw is clenched and her eyelashes tremor violently as she tries to maintain control of herself. It’s beautiful to watch: a woman truly coming undone for the first time.
I circle her clit with my fingers and another tortured moan escapes her lips. Her eyes fly open and she looks at me with horror. “Oh God, that was loud…”
“Do it again,” I urge her with a wicked grin. “Louder.”
“Aleks…” she whispers, but I prevent her from saying anything more by pressing my lips against hers.
I only pull away when she’s limp and breathless in her seat. She’s melted already. Pliable. Moldable.
I pull my fingers out from inside her and withdraw my hand. “Go to the bathroom,” I order. “And wait for me.”
She looks terrified, but I have no doubt she’ll do exactly as I say.
She’s hooked now.
Soon enough, I’ll reel her in.
5
OLIVIA
I close the door to the first class bathroom and practically collapse against the sink.
I’m surprised the attendants didn’t stop me on my way here. My entire body is buzzing. There’s got to be some outward physical evidence of what Aleks and I just did. A giant neon sign hanging above my head, advertising what we’re about to do next.
Because there’s only one thing he could want to do with me in this bathroom.
But when I turn towards the mirror, I look mostly the same. A little more animated than usual, perhaps. More color on my cheeks. But otherwise, the same.
“What are you doing, Olivia?” I ask my reflection.
I’m not naive; I’m a realist. It’s abundantly clear to me that all Aleks wants is the thrill of a quick hookup with a girl he never has to see again.
I try to tell myself that’s what I want, too. Or at least, I try to tell myself that it’s possible for me to plausibly be the kind of person who wants something like that.
But I can already see Future Olivia, twirling her hair and staring into the distance as she entertains daydreams of the handsome stranger she met at the airport.
That’s okay. That’s fine. Everyone needs a wild story from their youth that they can live off of for the rest of their life, right?
The thought is comforting for approximately zero point two seconds before it falls flat.
Do I really want to be the type of woman who spends her golden years reminiscing about “that one time way back when…？” Have I already resigned myself to a life of mundane boredom at the ripe old age of twenty-five?
I’m still trying to talk myself down when the bathroom door opens and he steps inside.
He consumes the entire space instantly. And it isn’t just about his size—which is, to put it mildly, a lot. It’s his presence. His confidence. His aura.