Playboy Pilot(42)
“I totally get the appeal of traveling without a bra now. In fact, I insist you never wear one again when we’re together. Being able to reach up and cup this luscious tit…” He squeezed. “…whenever I want, is fucking amazing. Burn your bras, Perky.”
I chuckled. An older man walked up to the rack and stood beside me. Rather than remove his hand from my shirt, Carter decided to pinch my nipple. Hard. A cross between a moan and an ouch came out, and I tried to cover it by faking a cough. “Excuse me,” I said when the man looked at me.
I elbowed Carter in the ribs when the guy walked away. He groaned, yet somehow managed to get a last tweak of my nipple in before pulling his hand out of my shirt. “We’re in a public place. Stop that.”
Carter took the shell of my ear between his teeth and bit down as he whispered in my ear. “You love it, and you know it.”
He was absolutely right. I did love it. Although Carter was the type of man you could never let know that. He’d have no qualms with a public groping session. And if I’d learned one thing about how I react to him physically, it was that I should be careful what I start because once we get going, it was next to impossible to stop myself.
“I’m going to hit the head before we board. Pick out your magazines. I’ll be right back.” He reached in to the rack and pulled a paperback copy of Fifty Shades of Grey off and handed it to me. “Let’s buy this, too. You can highlight the dirty parts, and then when you decide to come home with me, we can act out some scenes.” He winked.
I was just finishing up picking out the last of my magazines for the plane ride when Alexa approached. Captain Alexa. I hated that just seeing this woman could make me feel so unsettled.
“Kendra. How nice to see you. Have you lost Trip already?” Bitch.
“It’s Kendall, and Carter will be right back.” I picked up a magazine and did my best to ignore her, returning my full attention as I thumbed through.
She stood next to me for another moment before speaking again. God, the bitch even smelled good. “Você leu holandês?” she said.
“Umm…Huh?”
She laughed. No, actually, she didn’t laugh. She cackled.
I walked to the register confused, until I looked down and realized I had been pretend reading a Dutch language People magazine.
Carter appeared when it was just the two of us left in line. Captain Bitchface was standing behind me. “Alexa. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh?” Her voice perked up.
He wrapped his arm around my waist possessively. “Would you mind giving me about ten minutes once we’re ready to board? I want to show Kendall the cockpit. Give my girl a tour.”
“Ummm…sure.”
The minute we walked away from the newsstand, I stopped Carter. Throwing my arms around his neck, I kissed him long and hard in the middle of the terminal. When we finally broke, both of us breathless, he smiled and said, “I’m not complaining, but what was that for?”
“Nothing. Can’t your girl just kiss you whenever she wants?”
ABOUT THREE HOURS into the flight, I decided to put my seat back and try to get some sleep. I’d pretty much done nothing but obsess about what I should do once we landed since Carter mentioned he wanted to take me home with him to Florida. I closed my eyes, but should have known my brain would never be able to shut down and rest. Instead, I began visualizing what it might be like at home with Carter in a sort of half-awake-half-sleep daydream.
What would the place he lived in look like? I’d never been to Boca, so I wasn’t sure of the architecture or the layout, but somehow I pictured him in a tall, sleek, modern, high-rise. Maybe even the penthouse suite. We’d walk through the impressive glass and steel lobby, say hello to a uniformed guard, and head straight to the waiting elevator. Carter would slip a keycard in the slot on the elevator panel and we’d shoot straight to the top floor without stopping. He’d smile at me in the reflection of the shiny silver doors, and I’d smile back, excitement coursing through my veins as I waited to be in the privacy of Carter’s home. Arriving at the top, the doors would slide open—giving us direct entry to his apartment.
In my semi-conscious dream state, I took a deep breath in and prepared to step inside. It was then my dream turned into a nightmare. Standing just inside, in front of the floor to ceiling windows of the sunken living room, stood three flight attendants. All three were naked from head to toe, except for navy stilettos and little pillbox-style hats tilted to the side.
My eyes sprung open. Oh God.
No matter how hard I tried to remember the man that I spent time with, the man who was sweet and attentive, never looking at another woman when we were together, my fears just kept coming back to haunt me. Is this how it would always be if Carter and I somehow managed to keep in touch? What would happen to the man with the insatiable sex drive when I was big and fat, seven months pregnant and carrying a baby that wasn’t his? Would he want me? Could we even make things work if I move forward with my plans?