Wherever It Leads

“Thank you.” My hand trembles as I extend it. She shakes it warmly.

“Mr. Abbott is in there,” she nods to my right. “My name is Suzie. Please let me know if you need anything at all.”

She goes through an opening to the cockpit and I’m left standing. A part of me wants to flee, to run back to Presley’s car and just go to the safety of home. Before I can, Fenton comes into sight. Our eyes lock and he stops in his tracks.

“Welcome aboard.” He takes a few steps until he’s standing directly in front of me. His cologne washes over me, tempting me with its mixture of soap and a hint of spiciness. It’s the human equivalent of crystal meth, completely addictive. The scent alone would make me wet, but combined with the sound of his voice, the look on his face—the promise of what’s to come—I’m nearly combusting standing in front of him.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He takes my bag, his fingertips brushing my skin, setting it on fire. A gasp parts my lips at the contact, a shaky intake of breath that I know he hears because he allows his fingers to linger a touch longer than necessary. When I look at his face, he’s smirking. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” I blush.

Fenton takes a step away, turning his back to me, and I can gawk unabashedly for the first time. He’s wearing a pair of ultra-dark denim jeans with pristine white Adidas. A heather grey Polo shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. His dark hair appears to have been styled in some semblance at one point but now looks messy. And delicious.

He motions towards a set of large leather seats. “We’ll be taking off soon. Would you like a drink?”

I need a heavy shot of whiskey and chastise myself for not taking one before I left the house. “No, I’m fine.”

“Very well.” He takes a seat along the wall. I guess that he’d been sitting there before I came aboard because a briefcase and a tumbler of a honey-colored liquid sit beside it. I wonder vaguely if he’s nervous, too. “Would you like to sit?”

I force a swallow and head towards him. This was the part I wanted to avoid. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Sit next to him? Sit a couple seats down? Sit on his cock? Flushing at the last option, I take the seat to his left. Trying hard not to fidget and seem the nervous ball of energy I really am, I fasten my belt with clumsy hands.

The smoothness of his voice catches me off-guard. “I know I’ve asked this already, but are you okay?”

“Of course.”

“Look at me, Brynne.”

Pulling my gaze to his, I’m trapped as always. He pins me to my seat with only a look. I can’t breathe, the weight of his stare nearly unbearable. He searches my face for something—I’m not sure what—but he doesn’t seem to find it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, a huskiness to his voice that goes right through me.

“Me too.”

“I want you to be.”

“I am. I promise.”

He opens his mouth to say something else when Suzie comes into the room. I jump at the sound of her voice.

“Mr. Abbott, we will be taking off momentarily. Do you need anything before we depart?”

“No. And if we need anything, I’ll call for you. Please don’t disturb us.”

She nods and disappears through the doorway.

The plane starts to move, the jets hissing as they fire to life. I don’t expect the calm that settles over me. There’s something about the decision being made, no option left but to ride out the next hour or so, that stills me. Taking a deep breath, I decide to make the best of it.

I look at Fenton. He’s looking at me.

“So . . .”

“Thank you for coming,” he says, taking the pressure off of me. “And can I say, you look beautiful?”

“That’s thanks to you. The clothes were entirely too much. I feel a little awkward about it, really.”

“Don’t. It was my pleasure.”

“Well, when you get the bill, you can blame it on Edie,” I laugh. “I would’ve gone to Target and been completely fine.”

He shakes his head. “Target doesn’t allow me the opportunity to treat you like I wanted to.”

“Thank you. It was very unnecessary, but I enjoyed it and I hope what I got is okay.”

“If what you’re wearing today is any indication, it’s more than okay. It’s perfect.”

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