He couldn’t be more amused.
“Like what you see?” He smirks.
Yes, he has the audacity to fucking smirk.
“Can I…” My damn voice comes out ten octaves too high. I clear my throat again as Zanders’ chest heaves in a laugh. “Can I get past you? I need to get to the back of the plane.” And away from you before I have a heat stroke from staring at your annoying gorgeous body.
“I’m almost done,” he tells me, not breaking eye contact as he swiftly undoes his belt.
I swallow. Audibly. Like I’ve been without water in the desert for too many days.
Who knew my job would come with a personal striptease?
His long fingers unfasten the zipper of his pants, allowing them to drop and pool at his ankles.
His too-tight black boxer briefs are the first thing I see, right before my wide eyes are drawn to the giant bulge in the front. I’m not kidding. It’s huge. And he’s not even hard. It’s no wonder girls are throwing themselves at him. This thing should have its own area code.
“You enjoying yourself?”
“Hmm?” I mumble, entirely entranced by the literal anaconda in his pants.
“You like what you see, Stevie?”
“Yes,” I state in a daze. “What? No. Absolutely not.” I quickly turn to face the side of the airplane, staring at the emergency exit window, which is looking more and more appealing by the second.
Zanders’ evil laugh echoes through my ears, and I can’t seem to keep my eyes from finding his body once again.
I start at his ankles, noting the black swirling ink that takes up his entire left side. It wraps around his leg, traces his ribs, and covers his arm. The black ink doesn’t contrast too much against his rich skin tone. Instead, it complements it. It looks right on him. I don’t know how else to explain it.
“Want to try that answer again?” Zanders asks, making no real effort to put his sweatpants and T-shirt on. His naked body takes up the entire aisle and his hands rest on the headrests on either side, caging me in. “You like what you see?”
I plaster on my most smug expression, having no plans to inflate this man’s ego more than it already has been. There’s only so much oxygen on an airplane. I don’t want his ego to suffocate the rest of us.
You know, safety and all that shit.
“Ehh,” I say with indifference, crossing my arms over my chest, my stare unyielding as it locks with his.
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
Zanders slips his white tee on over his head, his observation only breaking with mine for a second when the fabric covers his face. Then he steps into a pair of gray sweatpants as I try my very best to keep my focus away from the snake in his briefs.
And gray sweatpants? Come on, man.
“You got a little…” He wipes the corner of his mouth, trying to tell me I’m drooling from looking at him.
I’m ninety percent sure I’m not, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if I am. However, I refuse to check.
He’s stupid pretty.
His hazel eyes challenge me, holding my attention, daring me to swipe at my lip and check for possible drool.
“I hate you,” I remind him, attempting to hold my ground, which makes him fall forward in arrogant laughter, holding his chest.
When Zanders stands up straight again, I move to slip past him, needing to get out of this fucking aisle, but he stops me by holding on to the seat across the way, his arm blocking me in.
“I’ll take a sparkling water.” His deep rasp sends a shiver up my spine.
Swallowing, I turn my head towards him, playing with fire. His face is only inches from mine, and it’s fine as hell. I can practically feel the warmth of his lips from here. Or maybe that’s the temperature from his burning gaze.
“There’s a cooler in the back for you to get it yourself.” I push his arm out of the way to move past him, maybe a little harder than necessary, but he’s making me flustered, and I don’t like it. I don’t like when my confident mask is taken off.
“Extra lime, Stevie Sweetheart!” he calls out with a satisfied laugh as I roll my eyes.
But I can also feel the blush heating my cheeks.
I got him the damn sparkling water.
I’ve also gotten him a refill, a pillow, and a bag of chips—all of which he could’ve easily grabbed himself. We leave them accessible for a reason.
My only hope is that the flight attendant call light above his head burns out and stops working. With the rate he’s pressing it, I wouldn’t be surprised.