Mr. Beautiful

by R. K. Lilley

  She was as beautiful, as sexy, and had me wrapped as tightly around her little finger as she ever had.

  "I love you, sweetheart." I didn't so much say it as breathe it against her. It was a quiet utterance, not meant to be heard so much as felt. From the outer edges of her skin to the marrow of her bones. Felt.

  She blinked up at me, her heart in her eyes. She didn't even have to say it. I felt it back.

  She sucked in a gasp as I moved against her.

  "Did you lock the door?" she asked, as I started to inch her shirt up.

  "I did," I assured her. "But they're all old enough to know better than to bother Mom and Dad after nine p.m. unless something's on fire."

  She hummed out a low noise of pleasure as I took my mouth to her stomach.

  I stripped her down, then myself, moving on top of her, hands everywhere, mouth everywhere.

  I took my time with her.

  I drew hard on her nipple, two fingers plunging smooth into her core.

  "I love your hands," she said softly, wonder in her voice. Even after all these years.

  Wonder.

  She was not alone.

  Not alone in her wonder. Not alone in her joy or her love. Not alone in her powerful, grasping, weak-kneed gratefulness of all we'd been given, all the ways we'd been blessed.

  She was not alone in anything. Not the burdens or the blessings.

  For the rest of our lives, we shared it all.

  BOOKS BY R.K. LILLEY

  THE WILD SIDE SERIES

  THE WILD SIDE

  IRIS

  DAIR

  TYRANT - COMING SOON

  THE OTHER MAN - COMING SOON

  THE UP IN THE AIR SERIES

  IN FLIGHT

  MILE HIGH

  GROUNDED

  MR. BEAUTIFUL

  LANA (AN UP IN THE AIR COMPANION NOVELLA)

  AUTHORITY - COMING SOON

  THE TRISTAN & DANIKA SERIES

  BAD THINGS

  ROCK BOTTOM

  LOVELY TRIGGER

  THE HERETIC DAUGHTERS SERIES

  BREATHING FIRE

  CROSSING FIRE - COMING SOON

  TEXT LILLEY + YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS TO 16782493375 TO JOIN MY EMAIL NEWSLETTER.

  Visit my website for news and new releases here.

  2D

  JAMES

  I caught a glimpse of her back as I walked to my seat. Good, I thought, relieved. At least I'd actually gotten the flight right. Getting her schedule had turned out to be a challenge. It had taken over a week of calling in favors, in fact, and that was with me knowing the CEO of her airline personally. The comings and goings of airline employees were well guarded, I had learned.

  She was in the front galley, bent down to dig through one of the drink carts. She turned her head slightly, and I was almost relieved to feel that foreign punch in the gut from the first time I'd met her. I hadn't just imagined it, as I'd tried to convince myself that I had.

  I watched her straighten, pulling a bottle of champagne out of the cart, before she moved out of my sight.

  Reluctantly, I took my seat.

  Scant seconds later, the big blond man who had greeted me at the aircraft door swept by. He was a flight attendant, but he didn't look like any flight attendant I'd ever seen. He was good-looking and big, and you could tell he was muscular at a glance. I didn't like that—didn't like such an attractive man working in close quarters with her. How could I feel so covetous of a woman that I'd met only once, and briefly?

  I didn't know, but I couldn't deny the feeling, or name it anything but what it was.

  He swept past me again, heading back to the door, a pleasant smile on his face.

  My entire body was drawn tight as a bow, but I tried my best to hide it, pushing my back into the seat—relaxing my body, when she swept from the galley. I didn't think I hid a bit of my intense reaction to her as she approached. I came to the quick and brutal conclusion that I would never be able to fake a second of indifference with this woman.

  She was carrying a round silver tray, laden with champagne flutes. She was every bit as lovely as I remembered, with soft, beautiful features, and sad eyes. Those eyes . . . They got to me, on a number of levels.

  Her pale hair was pulled back as severely as it had been the first time I'd met her, but the severe hairstyle didn't detract from her beauty. I didn't think anything could. She had clean, even features. Her eyes were captivating, her nose straight and perfect, and her mouth was sexy but serious.

  She was no flirt, and I knew that I would have to work to get so much as a smile from her, but I had no doubts that it would be worth the work.

  She walked down the aisle like someone who'd done it a thousand times, her step brisk and steady, right up until she raised those ageless eyes to look at me.

  She was composed to a fault, but I got to her, and I loved that. She froze at the sight of me, her expression arrested. I smiled, pleased down to my soul at her reaction.

  Finally, after a long and telling pause, she swallowed hard and said, "Hello again, Mr. Cavendish." She nodded, her heavy drink tray wobbling.

  I stood, reaching to steady her tray, never taking my eyes off her.

  "I'm so sorry, Mr. Cavendish," she said breathlessly.

  I ran a hand through my hair, trying to figure out why she was apologizing. I couldn't have cared less about the champagne on my sleeve. "Don't be sorry, Bianca," I told her, loving her name on my lips, though I loved my name on hers more.

  I steadied her, letting go of her reluctantly when she had the tray again.

  "Champagne?" she asked.

  I shook my head. "Just some water, when you get a chance." I gave her a warm smile.

  My phone beeped a message at me after she'd left to serve the other passengers.

  Tristan: You have any luck finding that flight attendant you were stalking?

  My lip curled in a smile. I couldn't blame him for giving me shit. I'd been the one who had told him about my sudden infatuation when we'd had lunch at my casino the day before. Still, my response was quick and succinct.

  James: Go find some rabbits to pull out of a hat and oh yeah go fuck yourself.

  His reply was just as prompt.

  Tristan: Hope that's not all you end up doing tonight. Good luck with the stalking;)

  I looked up from my phone as Bianca approached me again with a bottle of water.

  "Can I take your jacket, Mr. Cavendish?" she asked softly, handing me the bottle. "I could try to get the champagne out or just hang it up, if you like."

  I rose, stepping into the aisle, deliberately crowding her as I did so. I could see how it unnerved her when I stood close. I shrugged out of my suit jacket, nearly brushing against her with the movement.

  She paused for a long moment, staring at my chest, before she took the jacket from me. She was very careful not to let her hand touch mine. It made me smile.

  "Just hang it, please, Bianca," I told her softly, enjoying that I could shatter her composure.

  "Yes, sir," she murmured hoarsely.

  I watched her every move with fascination, knowing that she was aware of my intense regard, though she tried hard not to so much as glance at me. I was fine with that, content to study her as she worked, and to affect her just with my presence.

  I was just enjoying the view right up to the moment that I saw the male flight attendant, Stephan, grip her hand as the plane took off. It wasn't a tentative touch, but a very familiar one. My fists clenched. I couldn't say why, but the thought that she might have a boyfriend had never even occurred to me. I chose not to examine how much it bothered me that she apparently did have one, instead focusing my efforts on how I would deal with that.

  She flashed a warm smile at the other man—a look that made my heart seize up in my chest. I wanted that smile. It should have been for me. It infuriated me that she could react the way she did to me, when she obviously loved another man. I knew it wasn't logical; the one had little to do with the other, but I was s
till incensed at the sight of that affectionate smile, and if looks could kill, Stephan (I'd caught his name during his announcements) would have fallen dead on the spot.

  I couldn't seem to take my eyes off those joined hands, my mood growing dark. I felt like I'd been played, as though our off-the-charts chemistry was somehow something she could have controlled, since she was apparently attached. I could barely stand to look at her as she served me, pulling out my laptop for distraction.

  She approached me after she'd finished her service. Her face was earnest, her brow furrowed, as she spoke to me quietly. "Can I get you anything else, sir?"

  My mind went a little crazy at the question, several things, most of them X-rated, coming vividly to mind. I decided on the spot on a direct approach, knowing that I didn't have the patience for anything else with her. I kept my face and voice as civilized as I could manage. "May I ask you something, Bianca?"

  She raised her brows in a question. "Yes, Sir. What can I help you with?" Her tone was the epitome of professional.

  I sighed, waving at the seat beside mine. "Can you sit for a minute to talk?"

  She glanced around, as though sitting beside me was somehow out of line.

  "Sit, Bianca," I coaxed. "Everyone else is beyond caring."

  She perched on the seat nervously, her every movement careful.

  She smoothed her skirt down as she sat, drawing my attention to her legs. They were long, slender, and shapely. You usually only saw legs like that on models with boyish figures, but she didn't have that problem. Her chest was ample, her hips shapely. That killer body, mixed with her cool reserve, was a heady combination that I simply couldn't resist shaking up.

  "Are you and Stephan together?" I asked her, watching her carefully.

  She blinked at me, obviously caught off-guard. "No, sir," she answered quickly. "We're friends, but it's platonic."

  I studied her carefully. I thought that she was telling the truth. To say I was relieved was a vast understatement. In fact, I suddenly found it impossible not to touch her.

  I caught her wrist, smiling warmly as I studied her downturned face. She was taking deep breaths as she looked up into my face, as affected as I; I watched her large breasts rising and falling with her breaths. Her hard nipples were clearly outlined through her sexy-as-hell uniform, and if she'd bothered to look down at my lap, she would've seen that I was having the same reaction to her.

  I reached a hand to the thin tie she wore, running a finger down it, my touch light. I hummed deep in my throat with pleasure as her breasts quivered for me.

  I cleared my throat, looking back into her eyes. "Are you seeing anyone?"

  She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. I watched the motion with fascination, wondering how I was going to keep my hands off her for another second. "Good," I told her. "I assume you're taking a nap when you get to your hotel. What time will you be waking up?" I knew I couldn't wait even another day to have her.

  "I usually sleep for about four hours, so I can still get to sleep at night. We have an early flight to Las Vegas on Saturday morning. If I slept any longer than that, I'd be up all night."

  I processed that briefly. "So noon?" I asked, planning to take the afternoon off work and in bed with her.

  She nodded, looking a little stunned.

  "I'll send a car to pick you up for lunch," I told her firmly. This thing we had between us needed to be addressed in a hurry. "You and I need to talk," I continued. "I have a proposition for you."

  She stiffened, shaking her head, her eyes suddenly cold. "No, Mr. Cavendish." Even in that icy tone, her calling me that made my cock twitch with need. "I'm flattered that you're . . . interested in me in some way. But I'll have to politely decline. I don't date."

  I blinked at her, surprised that she could turn me down when she so obviously felt this crazy attraction just like I did. I didn't even have to think about it to know that I didn't have the self-control to stay away from her. I tried another tactIC. "I don't date, either, actually." Which was true, and frankly, I'd go along with any arrangement she was amenable to just to get inside of her. I could always change her mind later, though as I thought about it, keeping her away from the media circus aspect of my life was a sound idea all around. "That was not exactly what I had in mind."

  Her eyes had gone cold before, but they went glacial as I spoke. "Then what did you have in mind?" she asked, her tone hard.

  My brain, or other things, completely ignored her tone, focusing only on her question. I wanted badly to show her just what I had in mind, though I knew that I wasn't treating the situation with the finesse it required.

  I ran my finger along her tie again, watching her quivering breasts with hungry eyes. I thought I would do anything to have that lush body under me, and under my control. "I think you and I are very compatible," I told her thickly, thoughts of her tied to my bed naked, writhing at my touch, running rampant through my mind. "In fact, I'm sure of it. Come to lunch with me today and I'll show you. If you still aren't interested, I will, of course, leave you alone. But I promise I can make you interested. I'll treat you very well, Bianca. I'm a very generous man—" It was the wrong approach, I saw immediately. Everything was coming out all wrong with the way she was affecting me.

  She held up her free hand. "Please, no more," she told me stiffly. "I'm not interested in any of that, believe me. I don't know what impression you think I've given you, but I'm not some kind of fortune hunter. I don't want your generosity. I don't want anything at all from you." Fuck. Her tone sounded final. I'd already royally fucked things up, but even her flat-out refusal did nothing but turn me on.

  "We have a girl that works in back who seems more your style," she continued, making me want to put her over my knee right there. "I'll send her your way if you're so hard up that you're offering random women money." Fuck, I had sort of implied that in so many words, though I'd been thinking farther ahead than that. That was the problem. I'd been so obsessed with her since our first short meeting that we'd progressed much further in my head, and my fantasies, than where we actually were. It was a problem. "Or whatever the hell it is you were suggesting," she was still ranting. "But I can tell you for sure that I am not the kind of girl that you're looking for." She tried to rise, but I tightened my hand on her delicate wrist. It was a perfect wrist, just begging to be bound.

  She sat, glaring at my hand.

  "That's not what I meant at all, Bianca" I said in my most conciliatory tone. "I didn't mean to sound so . . . indelicate. But I am very, very attracted to you, and I would very much like to do something about it." I smiled at her, catching her eye. As our gazes met and another sizzling burst of heat passed between us, I couldn't even comprehend how she could turn this down. I would do anything to see where this went. "Have lunch with me," I continued reasonably, "where we can discuss this at length, and with some privacy." I let her go reluctantly as I finished speaking.

  She didn't even hesitate, standing and rejecting me within quick moments. "No, thank you, Mr. Cavendish." She strode away.

  I processed that for less than thirty seconds before I was standing, striding to follow her, not even approaching deterred.

  I swept the galley curtain aside with one impatient movement, moving straight to her.

  She was leaning heavily against the galley's metal counter, her breathing unsteady. She opened her mouth to tell me no again, and I crushed mine over hers, effectively shutting her up. It was a desperate, ravenous kiss, having none of the finesse that I wanted to show her. It was an honest kiss, though, showing her that I wanted to own her—to possess every inch of her. And by God, I would have her submission.

  Despite her rejection, her kiss was just as honest. Like me, I didn't think she could help it. Her mouth softened under mine, obeying my order to submit as though I'd spoken it out loud. It was just what I'd pictured for all the days I'd been fantasizing about it. It was perfection.

  I stroked my tongue into her mouth and she moaned, which made me
shake.

  "Suck on my tongue," I told her roughly, when I came up for air.

  She obeyed, tentatively, and then harder. I groaned, losing my mind for a minute. Blind with need, I pressed slowly into her, grinding my erection against her. In my blind need, I'd fucked up again, too much too fast, and she pulled back, giving me wide eyes.

  "Touch me," just slipped out.

  I was shocked and delighted when that didn't make her recoil. She swallowed hard, watching me with raw need written in every line of her face. Good, I thought. At least she feels this, too.

  "Where?" she asked unsteadily.

  My cock twitched, but I did show an ounce of restraint. "My chest and stomach. Touch all the places there that you want to be touched on your own body."

  She did, kneading at my chest with an absolutely riveting look of want on her face. I thought about the tiny commercial airplane bathroom, just a few feet away. It wasn't the easiest place to fuck, but I knew all the tricks to fucking in hard places. No, I told myself. I have at least that much control. The first time had to be in my bed, under my absolute control. I'd fantasized too much about that to allow anything else. All I could allow myself here and now was the groundwork for the seduction.

  She moved her hands tentatively lower, and I licked my lips, nodding at her to go on. She ran her hands along my abs, and I thought I was going to lose it again. I had to make myself count for control as she stroked my stomach and then my arms.

  I couldn't seem to resist further torment, unbuttoning my shirt from chest to navel. I had to feel her, skin on skin, even if it was only the briefest contact. I needed it. Touching her was out of the question. I would lose it then. "Touch my skin," I ordered her roughly.