by Lauren Smith
“You know, for a smart Alec, you really aren’t so bad,” she whispered.
The dimmed cabin lights reflected as tiny pinpricks of light in her eyes, like distant stars in a cold winter sky. There was no denying that she was lovely. The inviting shape of her mouth, the heart-shaped face, and the impish curve of her nose, all now shadowed, were no less attractive than before. But the quiet and the dark lent a fresh intimacy between them that sent a forbidden thrill through him.
“You aren’t too bad either, Cheddar,” he said.
“Cheddar?”
“What?” he smirked. “It’s better than Brie.”
“Oh my god, I kind of hate you.” But she was laughing as she said it and there was a delightful twinkle in her eyes that he enjoyed.
Brie’s smile was soft and sleepy. She fisted a hand against her mouth when she yawned. “Thanks for keeping me distracted during takeoff…and for the champagne.”
“You’re welcome,” he answered and watched her close her eyes. The sight of her falling asleep was strangely fascinating. As a child, he’d teased his cousin, Astrid, for loving the movie Sleeping Beauty. He laughed at the idea of a man being bewitched by a sleeping woman he didn’t know, but now he knew what the prince had felt in that moment in the film. There was a magnetic need to be close to this woman. He craved to know what dreams might come into her mind, what adventures she would encounter in the place between deep sleep and waking.
What is it about you, Brie Honeyweather, that makes me forget… That makes me hunger… And the longer he looked at her, he did hunger for so many things. The strongest of which was for a kiss he would never have.
Brie’s bed shook slightly, the turbulence waking her. She rolled on her back and groaned as she realized where she was. On a plane. Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Hurtling through the atmosphere at hundreds of miles an hour.
“You okay?” Alec’s voice was roughened with sleep. It startled her for a moment. Their drowsy gazes locked, and she couldn’t deny the quiet intimacy of the moment, as though they were the only two people there. The plane was so quiet it was easy to believe that narrative.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” She then realized with some embarrassment that she needed to go to the bathroom. “I’m sorry, but I’m going up to crawl over you to use the restroom.”
He stayed still as she did exactly that. Once inside, she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered how much sleep she actually got. She’d put her watch in her backpack before she got to security and forgotten to put it back on. She washed her hands and opened the door but gasped when she saw Alec standing just outside.
“Alec, what are you—?”
He stepped into the restroom with her and closed the door, locking it shut.
“Shh…” He held a finger to his lips and flashed her a smile that woke every last bit of her feminine side up. He was all man in that moment as he cornered her against the sink and cupped her face, kissing her hard.
“Alec…what are we doing?” She gasped against his mouth.
“We are enjoying ourselves,” he said. “Unless you don’t want this?” He kissed the path from her mouth down her neck, pulling at the soft cream-colored sweater she’d worn to bed.
“I…” Oh hell, she did want this. It had been so damn long. She pulled at the buttons of his suit shirt which was crumpled from sleep. “Yes.”
“Thank God,” he growled. He tugged his shirt open so she could run her palms over his chest, feeling his glorious muscled abdomen. Just like she’d hoped for. He was perfect, he was here, and he was hers, even if for just a few minutes.
He brushed a palm over her breast above her bra, thumbing her nipple through the fabric which hardened to peak between his hand and the lacy cloth. “How do you want it?”
“Um, not sure.” She gasped as he suddenly spun her to face the mirror and pressed her against the counter from behind.
“This okay?” he asked as he nipped her earlobe. An almost violent zinging pleasure shot straight to her womb and she hissed.
“Yes…like that… Oh fuck.” She moaned as he slid a hand under the front of her jeans to cup her mound.
“You have to be quiet…” He warned in a deliciously dirty voice.
She nodded as he thumbed her clit and she pushed back against him, feeling his shaft pressing against her ass.
“Do it,” she begged.
She didn’t need to ask a second time. He pulled her jeans and down to her thighs and unfastened his own. Then he was thrusting into her, taking her hard, filling her up and fucking her raw. It was the single most glorious moment of her life. She was almost there, climbing the peak toward orgasm as he thrust into her. Almost there. Almost…
Brie shifted, twisting under the thin blanket, confused and aroused as hell in her tiny airplane bed.
Shit. It was a dream. Alec was lying next to her in his own pod, sleeping softly, his hair mussed from his pillow. She was tempted to reach out and touch him but didn’t dare.
Did I really just dream about him fucking me in the airplane bathroom?
She laid back, resting a hand over her eyes as she felt the flush of heat subside. She really did have to go to the bathroom, though. She sat up, pushed the blanket aside, and faced the sleeping form of Alec currently in her way.
She carefully stretched her leg over his body and planted it on the ground in the aisle but with a sudden movement of his knee beneath her, she fell on top of him.
“Oof!” He grunted, followed quickly by, “Fuck!” as he woke up. “What the—?” He stared up at her with a confused half-asleep expression.
“Sorry,” she whispered. The last thing she wanted to do was wake everyone else up in first class.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” He growled in that sleep roughened voice, exactly like in her dream.
“I need to use the restroom,” she said.
“Did you have to knee me in the bullocks?” he muttered.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, “You shifted. I lost my balance.” Her face heated as she struggled to get off him.
“Hold still.” He put his hands on her ass as he tried to reposition her so she could slide off him and into the aisle.
“I really am sorry,” she said, getting her balance back.
“Just go.” He waved a hand at her and she rushed to the bathroom. She stared at her tired, puffy eyes in the mirror and her embarrassed reddened cheeks. What if he followed her to the bathroom? What if she opened the door and he’d be standing there, ready to…?
That was ridiculous. She opened the door and faced the empty aisle. But more than a small part of her had hoped he would be standing there like in her dream. She buried the twinge of disappointment as she returned to her seat. When she got back to their row, he was still awake.
“Up and over you go,” he said as she stepped over him and lay back down on her own bed. “Watch the knees.”
“Did I really hurt you?”
He sighed, the sound deep and aggrieved. “No. A man doesn’t need his balls.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Brie?” he whispered in a voice that was almost silky now.
Her heart skipped a few beats as remnants of her dream came back. “What?”
“Go to sleep.” She huffed and then froze as he spoke again. “And stop moaning. It’s driving me mad.”
“Moan? I wasn’t—”
“Oh, you were,” he insisted. “Whatever you were dreaming was either terrible or excellent. Either way, it was keeping me awake.”
“Asshole,” she muttered.
“I heard that,” he growled. And for some reason she found herself smiling as she closed her eyes.
3
Breakfast in first class was decent, with omelets, French toast, and coffee from a press. None of that powdery day-old charcoal-tasting stuff the main cabin would be served.
Alec ate as he scanned Wall Street Journal headlines on his phone. Brie had her laptop out and was typing w
hile she nibbled at her French toast. He peeked once or twice at her screen and saw some kind of timeline for a book about English Christmas traditions. He winced and turned away. The last thing he wanted to think about were traditions, the past, and least of all Christmas. He turned back to his phone, answering a few quick emails about when he would be back in the office. Even though he would be returning to the airport later this evening, he could at least work half the day.
He gave Brie another glance as the flight attendant collected their breakfast trays.
“You never told me how you ended up flying first class,” he said. It was her first time in first class and the idea had been tugging at him. “Most people don’t fly this way unless they have a good reason.” He suspected being a ghost writer didn’t pay a lot, at least not enough to fly first class.
“My client paid for it, actually. She insisted. I told her I didn’t need to, but she was set on me not having an uncomfortable trip over here.”
“I see. And you writing a book for her about…?” He trailed off, expecting her to answer.
“I can’t really discuss this project. I signed a nondisclosure agreement about the identity of the client and the nature of the project.”
That piqued his interest. “Is she a political figure? Wait, you aren’t interviewing the Prime Minister or the Queen are you?” he teased.
She laughed, relaxing a little. “No one that famous. But the client is still a bit of a rock star to me, I guess.”
“So, a musician?” He set his phone down. “Adele? Lily Allen? Madonna’s back in London, I hear…”
“Stop guessing. Seriously, I can’t tell you.” She was still laughing but she glanced down at his lap. “I am sorry about last night, by the way. I didn’t mean to knee you in the…you know.”
Alec shrugged, trying to forget the memory of that honey sweet smell of her that invaded his senses even as his body had bucked in pain at the collision. For the rest of the night, with her soft moans a foot away from him, he’d been half hard just from the drowsy sound of her voice.
“It’s fine. I shall persevere.” He lifted his chin nobly and she half laughed, covering her reddening face with her hands. He reached over and gently pried her palms away so he could look at her.
“I’m only kidding.”
She changed the subject. “So, you’re headed home?”
“Yes. Time enough for a shower and then back to work. You?”
“I’m catching another flight from here later today to an airport near to my client.”
“They’re not in London?”
“No.” But she didn’t reveal anything more. She turned back to her work and he to his.
Once the plane started to descend, he remembered her fear of flying. He looked at her and saw her white knuckled grip on the arm rests. He reached over and put a hand over hers without a word and she relaxed ever so slightly. The plane hit the runway and the bounced a second or two before the squeal of tires signaled they were slowing down.
“Thanks,” she said as she as the plane slowed and started taxiing to the gate.
“My pleasure.”
As the plane stopped and the seatbelt sign clicked off, the people around them all stood. He opened the bin above him, grabbed her purse, and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She took it and slung her backpack on. Alec was tempted to ask for her number, but he stopped. He didn’t have time for a fling and neither did she. She was off to parts unknown and he had to head to work.
“It was nice to meet you,” she said, and their hands briefly met in a polite shake. It seemed so…unsatisfying.
“Safe travels,” he said as he let her leave ahead of him. And just like that, she was gone. He retrieved his jacket from the overhead bin and then pulled the handle on his rolling briefcase to start down the aisle.
“Sir!” An attendant called after him. She held up the battered romance novel.
“That’s not mine” But it was no use. Brie would be long gone. He accepted the book and tucked it into his briefcase.
Once off the plane, he checked the crowds milling by the gate but didn’t see her. And he had no way to contact her about her book. He could try looking her up on social media later… As silly as that sounded it was his only option.
He caught a black cab back to his flat at Regent’s Crescent. Alec stepped out of the cab and rolled his suitcase up the steps into the magnificent two-story lobby. It was bathed in natural light with sweeping views of the private gardens behind the building.
An imperial split staircase curved down from the entrance to the concierge desk. It was a modern take on the old flats that had been here since the Regency period. Brie would have been interested in that. She would have—
Alec stopped the thought before it could travel any further.
His flat had large windows and lofty ceilings that welcomed in the sun. The surrounding gardens had a host of tall trees which cast shades of green into his rooms in the spring and summer, and golden amber hues in the fall. Even though the white painted walls were modern in style and his furniture clearly set a modern mood, the marble mantle and tall mirrors along with the fireplace and woodworking lent an air of bygone craftsmanship that was rarely seen in the world anymore. There were no family photos, no hints of his past. He preferred it that way.
Look only to the present and the future. That was what his first boss at Barclays had said to him. Alec had let it become a sort of mantra for him.
His mobile vibrated as he set his suitcase and briefcase in his bedroom. He pulled the phone out of his trousers and answered without checking who it was. He assumed it was his assistant, who already knew he would be headed into the office soon.
“Hello?”
“Alec, dear, are you still coming home tonight?” His mother’s voice filled him with a sudden pang of longing.
“Yes, mum. I only just got home and was going to shower and head to work for a bit.”
“But you worked all last week in New York. Your father and I haven’t seen you in five months”
“Mum,” he interrupted gently. “I’ll be there tonight, all right?”
“Good,” she relaxed. “Simon and his wife arrived today. Their son Brendan is such an adorable boy. You will like him. Maybe Simon can convince you it’s time to settle down. He did.”
“Mum,” he warned.
“Don’t you Mum me.” She shot back. “Between you working so much and Morgan… Lord save me from Morgan.”
“What’s he done now?” Alec asked. His little brother was two years younger than him, at twenty-eight, and he was a notorious flirt.
“I’ve never seen him with the same girl twice. If neither of you settle down, there will be no one to carry on the name, or the bloody title. It’s beginning to stress your father out.”
Alec rolled his eyes. His father, Byron Halston, the Earl of Merryvale wasn’t worried, at least not yet. When he was, he would be sure to let Alec know. His father was more relaxed than his mother about a lot of things.
Alec winced as his mother nearly shouted. “Morgan! Come talk to your brother. And be sure to tell him how disappointed I am that neither of you are married yet.”
He heard some scuffling noises, and then, “Hey bruv.” Morgan greeted him with a fake Cockney accent straight out of Eastenders.
“Stop that. You’ll give mum fits,” Alec ordered.
Morgan laughed but dropped the accent. “You’d better make it tonight. Mum is losing her mind. She’s got all these guests coming and everything has to be perfect, you know?”
Alec knew exactly what Morgan was talking about. Christmas was his mother’s favorite holiday. “Understood. See you tonight, Morgan.”
He hung up and tossed the phone on the bed before heading to his bathroom and stripping out of his clothes. When he caught sight of his hair in the mirror, he suddenly chuckled at the mess. No doubt Brie would have approved. As he removed his shirt he stopped and brought the fabric up to his nose. A hint of Brie�
�s scent was still lingered.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he pictured her face. The blue eyes, the sensual lips, her hair sweeping down to form a rich waterfall as she fell on top of him.
His body responded at the memory and he tried to ignore the blood flowing straight to his cock, but it was hard not to think of her. He ditched his remaining clothes and got into the white marble shower stall. His body was rigid beneath the hot spray as he took himself in hand and stroked until he found release.
Gasping softly, he leaned back against the heated marble and blew out a breath. He wondered if she would ever think of him again. Would she be haunted by their one night together? A night charged with subtle tensions, like a building storm? He knew he would…
When Alec reached his office, his mobile was blowing up with work calls and emails. He threw himself into his chair and spun to face the skyrise view of London’s financial district, prepared to answer the endless emails and voice messages on his phone. Christ, he had so much to do.
The New York assignment had been exciting, but he was glad to be home. Of course, that meant catching up on everything he missed while he was gone. Seven days was the equivalent of half a year’s work for an investment banker. He worked impossibly long hours and saw more of the showers in his office building than at his own home.
Alec turned back to his desk and knocked his briefcase over. The pirate romance novel slid across the wood floor. He scrambled to pick it up before someone noticed, but it was too late.
“A bit of light reading?” Nathan Montgomery asked from the doorway. The other man’s eyes settled on the book on the floor between them, his lip curling in a mocking sneer.
“Stow it, Monty,” he snapped. Nathan was the office piranha. Whenever he smelled blood in the water, he started feeding with a frenzy. He was not anyone’s friend.
Nathan changed tact. “How was New York? You missed a lot here last week.”
Alec raised a brow. Nathan was a scrappy fellow who’d worked his way up in the world. Alec would have admired him under normal circumstances, but Nathan had been raised in the East End in a slum and held a grudge against just about everyone, especially someone like Alec. Nathan saw him as nothing more than a spoiled brat born with a silver spoon in his mouth. The future Earl of Merryvale. Alec represented everything Nathan despised. And it pissed Alec off.