****
As soon as the pilot announced that we were at a safe altitude to power our devices back on, I pulled my phone from where it was perched beneath the magazines, trying to hide the fact that I was hoping boatloads of money meant that I could snag reception long enough to let Megan know what was going on. The last time I’d been whisked away by Jacob Whitmore, I'd barely plunked out a leaving the country text. She was my bestie, I had to do better than 'eloping kbye'.
Jacob shifted across from me, ice clinking in his glass. "You're not nearly as smooth as you think you are."
I batted my eyelashes innocently. "Not sure what you mean."
"You've been trying to use your phone since the wheels lifted off the ground." His eyes glimmered like the ocean. "What was so important that you risked some sort of fluke electronic mishap?"
I jutted out my lip stubbornly. "Oh come on, there's no way my little cell phone can bring down a plane this size. I don't know how many times I've flown with my phone still on and the plane didn't crash and burn."
“There have been multiple instances where flight crew have reported cell phone signals interfered with communication systems which could interfere with navigation.”
I gulped, looking down at the phone in my hand with genuine horror. Jacob's face was drawn and serious--until one side of his mouth started twitching.
"Oh my god!" I hissed, chunking my cocktail napkin at him as the twitch became a full-on grin. "You scared the crap out of me."
He clicked his seat belt, rolling up his sleeves with a smirk still at his lips. "Good. I like knowing I can still surprise you." I didn't know why, but the way he said surprise made me blush furiously. There was something dark and sexy in the word. What kind of surprises did he have planned?
I tilted my head slightly, remembering the sleeping quarters just behind us. Remembering the last time we were in this jet, finding it impossible to keep our hands off each other.
Focus, I told myself sternly. Megan had jokingly told me not to get so frustrated with Jacob's mom and planning that I did exactly what we were geared up and getting ready to do. She tried to act all tough and over the stereotypical squeeing maid of honor, but I knew she really was looking forward to helping me pick out dresses and some over the top bachelorette party.
I woke up my cell with trepidation, hoping the text had gone through before reception went out.
"Generally, the point of eloping is getting away. Unplugging." Of course he was saying this while he was pretending to not look at the screen of his iPad.
I rolled my eyes. "I just wanted to let Megan know what’s going on."
His eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
As hot as the whole ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’, man-in-charge thing was most of the time, he was starting to grate my nerves. "It'll just take a second." According to the notification on the screen, it was still sending.
"Put the phone down, Leila."
"Jacob--"
"Put. The. Phone. Down."
Every word was more final and commanding than the last and annoyed sigh or not, I put the phone down and locked my gaze on him. "What is it?"
"You are aware that telling everyone you know that you're eloping defeats the purpose, correct?"
"She's not everyone," I said stubbornly. "She's my best friend."
He studied me for a moment, features tense. "This is important to you. Telling her about our plans?"
"We'll she's not gonna blab to the paparazzi if that's what your worried about." His stony glare told me he wanted an answer to his actual question. "Yes, it's important to me."
"Interesting." He stroked his chin, eyes hooded and contemplating. "It's a fair enough request I suppose. And I have half a mind to allow it, despite your attitude."
My mouth fell open. Well thank you very much, Your Majesty! But I just pursed my lips together, not pushing it. I knew what the spark in his eye meant, what the sweep of his tongue across his lip represented.
He wanted to dominate me.
"You'll do as I command you. No questions. Understood?"
My mouth was suddenly painfully dry, but I managed to swallow and say the words. "Yes sir."
He gave me the slightest of grins. "Remove your clothing. All of it."
My lips trembled as my eyes darted to where the flight attendant sat on the other side of a curtain. She'd already done service, so it was highly unlikely that she'd disturb us, but there was still a remote chance that she could.
When I looked at Jacob, I realized I'd already made one mistake. Pushing aside the questions and the natural fear of being caught, I unbuckled my seat belt and brought my hands to my shirt. For the flight, I'd worn an oversized denim button down tunic. It seemed like something easy and comfortable, but now with those blue eyes on me...
I lifted my arms to pull it over my head, but his voice made me freeze.
"Unbutton it. Slowly."
It should have been infuriating. It was like he was purposefully pushing the envelope. After all, it wasn't Jacob that would be sitting there buttnaked as the attendant gaped in shock. But I wasn't infuriated. My body hummed deliciously. I could feel the goose flesh race over my skin beneath my clothing. I didn't need to strip off my underwear to know I was already soaking wet, extremely aroused at the very thought of what I knew was inevitable. I was going to strip.
I started with the top button, barely able to clasp it because my fingers tingled and shook. The first was released and I stole a look at him, seeing his lips part slightly. Those beautiful lips that I couldn't wait to kiss. That I'd get to kiss for the rest of my life. When his eyes narrowed I rushed to the next, then third, before he cleared his throat. I slowed, unhooking the fourth, letting out a shaky breath as I neared the valley of my cle**age and my fingertips stroked the path toward my br**sts.
And I was right there, completely naked, the soft leather chair kissing my skin and Jacob stroking me with his intense blue gaze.
I gripped the armrest tight, heat dancing in my belly before it ricocheted over me. "Now what?"
I watched the lust race over his features before he cleared his throat, hiding it away behind cool sophistication. Acting like I wasn't completely in the buff--and he wasn't sporting a raging erection. He was silent, reaching for his glass of scotch and taking a long, deliberate sip. He lowered it down, stoic as ever, but he was gripping the glass like it was a lifeline; the only thing keeping him from losing it and taking me right there.
I expected him to gesture at the sleeping cabin, but he didn't say a word. Gears turned and I wondered if keeping it together, keeping my hands off him, off myself was so hard for me, how hard was it for him? Jacob was a man used to being in control but I could see that he was fighting to keep his cool.