I swallowed hard. “Where?” I asked, my voice needy and rough.
“My chest and stomach. Touch all the places there that you want to be touched on your own body.”
I obeyed, cupping the supple flesh around his nipples as though they were breasts, kneading him. I was watching his mouth, and he licked his lips, nodding at me to go on. I ran a hand down the muscles of his abdomen. He was all corded muscles, everywhere I felt. I stroked his arms, and they were far bigger and more muscular than I would have guessed. He just looked so elegant at first glance, it was hard to believe anyone so elegant could also be so built. He had to work out for hours everyday to achieve this kind of a build. It was so intimidating. And so unbelievably hot.
He unbuttoned several of the buttons along his chest and stomach. “Touch my skin,” he ordered roughly. I obeyed, some part of me going, Oh shit, I can’t believe I’m doing this. But it was so natural to just do as he asked. It felt good. I tried to fit both hands into his shirt, and he pulled one out gently. I stroked his hard, hot skin. I felt no hair, and wondered if he waxed it. It was so smooth.
He kissed the hand that he had grabbed, placing it firmly back onto his shoulder. I watched my own hand wander down his body, going straight to his groin. I gripped him through his slacks suddenly, and he groaned, wrenching my hand away quickly. He grinned at me, but it was a pained grin, all white teeth. “Not here. Not yet. The first time I want you in my bed.”
He stepped back, putting a safe distance between us. He buttoned his shirt quickly and straightened his clothing, watching me. He pulled his phone out. “Give me your number,” he told me.
I shook myself mentally. What was I doing? I did not want to get mixed up with him. I knew it absolutely. I just wasn’t feeling my own certainty at that particular moment.
I shook my head at him. “No,” I said firmly.
He looked genuinely surprised at my answer, and then amused. That made me mad.
I backed up until my butt bumped against the aircraft door. “Not interested.” My tone was sure.
He put his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the counter. He ran a tongue over his teeth. He’s enjoying this, I thought, with no small amount of outrage. The thought of someone saying no to him is so foreign that it just amuses him. His voice was rich with mirth when he spoke again. “How about coffee? Is that neutral enough? Give me your number and we’ll go for some coffee.”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.” I waved at the space between us. “I don’t do this sort of thing. I’m just not interested.”
A corner of his mouth quirked sardonically. His eyes were on my chest as it rose and fell in agitation. I finally looked down, mortified to see that my hardened nipples were showing clearly even through the three layers covering them. “I will put you over my knee every time you lie to me, Bianca.” His voice was quiet now, but with a dangerous edge.
My brain short-circuited for a moment, my face going a little slack. He’s joking. Isn’t he? My whole body tensed at his comment, and I knew it was more desire than dismay that shocked a tremor through my body. “See. I’m not into any of that stuff, so we are clearly not compatible.”
He ran a long finger down his own tie the way he had done to mine. “I’m not sure if that one was a lie or if you just don’t know how pleasurable ‘that stuff’ can be. Or how well suited you are to it. I can show you. I would love to show you. When I’m done with you, I’ll know your body better than you do, and you will be begging me for it. Every inch of your body is submitting to me, even as you’re turning me down. Can you honestly tell me that the thought of submitting to me in bed doesn’t make you wet?”
The question made me press my legs together, but my traitorous body would not shake my resolve. He obviously knew what he was doing, knew which buttons to push, knew how to control me sexually. But that was exactly what I didn’t want. Wasn’t it?
He seemed to read my mind, or more likely, my expression. He grinned. “I meant it about the spanking, Bianca. And the submission. You’re going to learn very quickly that I always mean what I say.”
“Please leave my galley, Mr. Cavendish. I won’t change my mind.”
He pulled out his wallet, never looking away from me as he pulled out a business card. He touched it to my cheek, running it lightly down to my chin, then to my neck. I shivered as he reached my collar bone. There was a tiny pocket on my vest, right over my right breast, and he slid the card into that pocket. “The number on the back is my cel. I would love to hear from you. Anytime, night or day.”