Then she straightens, and runs her finger over her lips, gazing down at me. “Did you feel that?”
The spark, the electricity. The desire that feeds on itself, relishing the relief of contact but always wanting more.
“Yes.”
She takes my hand and places it over her breast—where her heartbeat throbs wildly in her chest. “And do you feel this?”
My own chest pounds with the same rhythm.
“Yes.”
“Some people go their whole lives without feeling that. We’ll get to have it for four months.” Her eyes dance with moonlight. “I’m in.”
A few days later, I’m scheduled to attend a dinner in Washington, DC—a benefit for the Mason Foundation—and Olivia agrees to accompany me. When she worries that she doesn’t have anything to wear, I arrange a shopping trip at the Fifth Avenue Barrister’s, after closing.
Because I’m not a gentleman, I help her in the dressing room when the saleswoman is otherwise occupied—giving her a hand, and a finger, getting in and out of all that binding clothing—mostly getting out of it.
She settles on a deep, jewel-tone plum-colored dress that clings to all the best places, and gold strappy heels. They show her a simple diamond necklace that would look fantastic with the outfit. But Olivia won’t let me buy it for her. She says Marty’s sister has something more suitable she can borrow.
After we leave, it nags at me, though—the necklace. For purely selfish reasons. Because I want to see her wearing it. It—and nothing else.
Talk about prime spank-bank material.
But when the night of the dinner arrives, and I see Olivia for the first time at the helipad, I forget all about the necklace—because she’s a vision. Her lips are dark rose and shiny, her midnight hair is swept up elegantly, her tits are high and stunning.
I take her hand, kissing the back. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you.” She beams.
Until her eyes settle on the helicopter behind me. Then she looks ill.
“So, we’re really doing this, huh?”
I fly whenever I have the opportunity, which isn’t nearly as often as I’d like. And Olivia’s never flown at all—not in a plane or a helicopter. It’s exciting to be her first.
“I told you I’ll be gentle.”
I guide her toward the custom craft that the CEO of an international bank who’s friendly with my family was kind—and shrewd—enough to loan me for the evening. “Unless you’re in the mood for a rough ride?” I wink.
“Slow and steady, cowboy,” she warns. “Or I’ll never ride with you again.”
I help her into the soft leather seat, buckle her harness, and carefully put her headset over her hair, so we can talk during the trip. Her eyes are round and terrified.
Does the fact that that turns me on make me a sick bastard? I’m a little afraid that it does.
With a quick kiss to her forehead, I walk around and climb in. Tommy rides in the back; Logan and James drove ahead earlier to confirm security details and will meet us when we land.
With a thumbs-up to the ground crew, we lift off.
Olivia freezes next to me. Like she’s afraid to move or speak. Until we bank to the right. Then she screams bloody murder.
“Oh my God! We’re tipping!” She grabs my arm.
“Olivia, we’re not tipping.”
“Yes we are! Lean! Lean this way!” She shifts her weight away from window—in the opposite direction of our embankment.
And Tommy, trying to be helpful, leans with her.
I level us off, but her grip on my arm doesn’t let up.
“Look at the view, sweets. Look at the lights—they’re like thousands of diamonds on a bed of black sand.”
Olivia’s eyes are squeezed shut so tightly, they almost disappear into her face.
“No thanks, I’m good like this.”
I pry her hand from my arm, one finger at a time. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to put your hand on the stick and fly the helicopter.”
Her eyes spring open. “What?”
“You’re afraid because you feel out of control,” I tell her calmly. “This will make you feel better.”
“You want me to touch your stick so I’ll feel better?” she asks incredulously. “Sounds like a line.”
I laugh. “No line. But…my stick always makes everything better. You can’t go wrong touching it.” I take her hand and put it on the control, teasing her.
“That’s it, grip it firmly, but don’t strangle it. Don’t stroke, just hold it for now—I know it’s big—get used to the feel of it in your hand.”