Chapter 2
LAST KING STANDING
Poppy
Knowing my zone is probably dead last and the chances of being upgraded again are zero, I wander aimlessly after I eat to avoid getting to the gate early. I’d rather not have another encounter with Suits. I’ll have to pass him on the way to my seat, but I can handle that much.
What I can’t handle is him making constant passes at me. What’s his deal, anyway? He had a flight attendant practically begging for attention, yet he chose to waste his efforts on me instead. He’s smug, completely inappropriate, and utterly exhausting. Do women actually go for that sort of thing?
I mean, fine, he is the epitome of Adonis, and I guess if that’s all you’re looking for, so be it. But come on, every woman can’t be that shallow, can they?
The one positive thing I’ll say is that it was cute when he read with me. At first, I thought he was only interested in the sex scene I happened to be on, but then he kept going and even became impatient when I took longer, making him wait for the page to turn.
Three chapters were left by the time we touched down, and I could tell he was pretty invested at that point.
I almost felt bad cutting him off, but once he opened his mouth again, the weight was lifted.
His crassness is next level. I might use some of the scenarios he mentioned as material later, but I’d never give in to someone so… crude.
I’ve already texted Cici that I’ll have a fun story for everyone and that my connection is on schedule.
I’m so excited to see her that it overrides my irritation from earlier.
This flight is only an hour, so it’ll go quickly while I read.
It’s too bad I won’t have any champagne, but that’s okay since I’ll be drinking again tonight.
When I arrive at the gate, hardly anyone is left to board, which means I timed it perfectly. Passing first class, I can’t help but discreetly scan the seats in search of him. Oddly enough, he’s nowhere to be found. Hmm, there could be more than one flight to San Diego.
It is a big city after all, which I’m looking forward to, coming from small-town Bozeman.
I’ve never been to San Diego and am excited to stay at the Hotel del Coronado right on the beach.
I love the mountains of Montana, but I’m eager to be near the ocean.
Just thinking about it puts a smile on my face.
Seconds later, that smile disappears when I make it to my row and see a familiar face. Suits? I double-check the numbers above to confirm that it’s correct and that he is, in fact, next to my seat.
When I stop, he stands, donning a devastating grin. “Let me help you,” he says, taking the carry-on and lifting it into the overhead bin.
“Why are you back here?” I whisper aggressively.
He wraps his arm around me and leans in, his lips dangerously close to my ear, causing goose bumps to break out everywhere.
“Is that any way to greet your fiancé?”
I extract myself forcefully. “What are you talking about?”
“How else could I convince the person next to you to change seats with me?” He smiles again, almost making me forget to be annoyed.
When he sits, I have no choice but to do the same since the people behind me are anxious to move past.
“I would think the opportunity to be in first class would have been enough. Seriously, why would you do that, and how did you find out where I was sitting?”
“They looked you up from your seat on the last flight, and with a little persuasion, they paged the guy next to you so I could ask him to switch with me. And yes, first class probably would have convinced him, but this was way more fun. The gate agents were highly entertained.” He smirks as if he’s so clever, and I can’t stop the eye roll.
One thing’s for sure. He’s persistent.
“I need to finish the book. Unless you were hoping I’d keep trying to get in your pants.”
“Definitely not. If I hear one more cheesy pick-up line, I might throw up in your lap.”
“Well, we certainly can’t have that since I’d rather you be in my lap later.” He wags his brows.
All I can do is groan and shake my head. This is going to be a long flight.
After making the same deal as last time, he shuts up, and we continue reading. It was going perfectly until we made it to a sex scene. Usually, when I read around other people, I zone out. Sometimes I catch myself panting, but I always rein it in.
Right now, that’s impossible. When I try to flip past it, he brushes my hand away. “What are you doing?” we both ask at once.
I answer first. “It’s not necessary to the story. We can skip to the next part.”
“No way, it’ll mess with the flow.”
“Either we move on or stop altogether.”
He lasers in, salaciously. “Are you afraid you might get aroused? Will it have you wet and aching? I’m right here, Little Mouse. I could help you out with that.”
Oh my God. Of all that’s holy. Who says those kinds of things? Men don’t talk like that in real life—do they? And why, oh why, is my body responding to this creep?
Shaking the unwanted thoughts away, I reply, addressing the easier topic. “I am not a mouse. Don’t be so condescending.”
“Then don’t act like one by skipping the good stuff. You know it’s your favorite part. I could tell by how angry you were when I interrupted the last scene.”
“That is not why I was angry.” I deny his claim, despite knowing that that’s exactly why I was irritated.
He lets my protest go. “Come on. I’d like to see how I stack up to these fictional men. Come on, baby. Don’t leave us hanging,” he begs.
Holy guacamole. He’s killing me. I finally give in and bring the tablet up to resume reading, although my attention is certainly not on the words in front of me.
How in the world am I so turned on? This guy has been spewing more innuendos than a confetti cannon at New Year’s, making me gag at his forwardness, yet suddenly, my juices are flowing while my mind is going places it shouldn’t.
Snapping out of it, I force myself to continue. Within seconds, I’m absorbed once more, naturally blocking everything around me. Only when I’m deep into the book, at the end of the scene, does something bring me back to the present—the real-life sex god beside me.
His lips are so close to my ear that his breath feels like velvet as he speaks, causing me to shiver. “He was good, but there’s room for improvement. If I were him, I would have—”
“Don’t. Please stop. I don’t want to know.” I don’t think my libido can take it.
“Are you sure about that? I think your body disagrees. In fact, I think it wants a demonstration.” In what seems like slow motion, his hand snakes over the armrest and lands on my leg, half on my skirt and half on my bare thigh. I watch but don’t register it in time to stop him.
My core clenches automatically, the traitor. But before he makes it any farther, I grab his hand firmly, only to have him tighten his grip.
“Good thing my body isn’t in charge and my mind is smart enough to steer clear of men like you,” I say through gritted teeth while warring over my reaction to him.
He leans over, and his voice drips out like maple syrup, slow and rich. “Men like me, huh? You mean men who know what they’re doing in the bedroom? Men who can please a woman and have her begging for more?”
My insides quiver, and I’m seriously torn between letting him roam higher or putting an end to this madness.
Sensing my hesitation, he continues. “Wouldn’t you like to experience what you’ve only read about up until now?”
The awareness of his words jolts me from my stupor, and I shove him away. He couldn’t know I’ve never done those things. He must be talking about the wild stuff they only put in books. The stuff that doesn’t happen in real life. At least… I don’t think it does.
“You’re the last guy on earth I’d want to experience anything with,” I say weakly.
He has the audacity to chuckle. “Keep telling yourself that, and your body might start to believe you.”
Ignoring his comment, our conversation dies, and we continue reading. We’re halfway through the final chapter when a jolt drags me back to reality. Pulling my phone out and turning it on, I text Cici that we’ve landed.
“How about we keep reading and be the last off,” he suggests.
“Someone’s waiting for me, so I can’t.” No use telling him it’s a driver picking me up and not my friends. But even so, I only have so much time before meeting everyone and still need to freshen up.
“How about until it gets to us, then?” He sounds desperate, so I take pity.
“Fine, but you’re getting my bag down.”
His smile once again does me in. “Of course I am.”
We finish the last page while we’re still five rows away from our turn.
“What the fuck? You can’t end a book like that. Is that legal?”
I can’t help but laugh. “It’s called a cliffhanger. It’s no different than watching a TV series where they leave you guessing at the end of an episode.”
“Which is why I don’t watch anything until the whole series is out. So, what’s the next book?”
“There isn’t one yet. I think the release date is in January.”
“That’s bullshit. Not only do they make you buy the next book to finish this one, but you have to wait for it?”
I bite my lip from cracking a smile since he’s currently behaving like a toddler who’s being punished. It’s sort of adorable.
“It keeps people hooked. Hence, a series. You’re usually prepared going in. I was anyway.” I shrug.
“Well I fucking wasn’t. Now what?”
“Now you wait for the sequel.”
He scowls and grabs his phone, opening his notes app. “What’s the name then?”
“Wait, you really want to read the next one?”
“How else will I find out if she’s dead or alive?”
“It’s a romance—she’ll live. Romance novels don’t have bad endings.”
He looks confused. “Never?”
“No, or it wouldn’t be considered a romance.”
“Not all relationships end well.” He’s so deadpan, I laugh.
“Most people don’t want to read about shitty relationships and failed marriages. Romances are meant to make you happy and dream. I’d pick a different genre if I wanted reality.”