Page 7 of Misguided Vows

“If I wanted to get wet, I’m sure I could think of other ways to do it,” he says, and looks me over with a smirk. Heat scorches my cheeks, and I convince myself it’s from the humiliation as the woman across from me stares in horror. He blocks her from my view so I’m only focusing on him.

“I’m pretty sure stalking is poor etiquette,” I whisper shout.

His eyebrows raise and he looks down at his shirt pointedly. “Do you really want to discuss lessons on etiquette right now?”

I cross my arms over my chest. What did I do in a past life to deserve this torture?

“It’s time to take your seat, sir.” The flight attendant taps Will on the shoulder. I roll my eyes, pissed to realize I’m stuck with this asshole sitting in front of me for the entire flight. He cocks a boyish grin at me before taking his seat.

As the flight attendant walks by again with the tray of drinks, I stop her.

“I’ll take the champagne now.”

She smiles and hands me a glass. I gulp it down as we prepare for take-off.

This will be fine. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

We’re served a meal, and I don’t see him. He doesn’t get up. He doesn’t even turn around.

I put on a movie and take another glass of champagne, and that’s when he decides to stand up. He opens the overhead compartment, and I watch him over my glass as his shirt rides up slightly.

He’s such an ass, but damn, there’s no denying the Gods were generous when they sculpted him. He looks good. Fucking smells good too.

I press the call button to order another glass of champagne. Once I finish ordering, he looks down at me and then proceeds to lean over and invade my space.What cheek he has!I’m trying my hardest to focus on my tablet, looking at new designs and materials I’ve been curious to use.

He doesn’t speak, just takes me in with those blue eyes, and it makes me squirm in my seat. I can’t fucking concentrate.

“Can I help you?” I growl at him.

He quirks a cocky smile and innocently says, “No, I was just stretching,” before stepping back and sitting down.

Gah. This asshole knows how to get under my skin.

I drink another glass of bubbly to try to ease my frustration.

Now, I need to go to the toilet, and I can feel the alcohol kicking in. I didn’t plan to drink alcohol during the flight, but his presence required it. It’s a miracle I didn’t drink myself into oblivion last night at dinner. But asking me to have the amount of strength to tolerate him two days in a row is a no-go. As Istand, so does he, and we come face-to-face. He may be taller than me, but I stare down my nose at him.

“Fancy seeing you here—” I lift my finger to his lips to shut him up.

“Do not call me milady again. Do I look old to you?” His lips curve under my finger into a slow and steady smirk. He opens his mouth to speak, but my finger is still there.What am I doing?I quickly pull it away, embarrassed, and turn away to move through the lightly dimmed cabin as I make my way to the bathroom.

Just as I reach the bathroom door, a hand grabs me and pushes me inside. I’m startled but know it’s him even before I turn and my head slams into his chest. I gape in shocked horror as he shuts the door behind us, locking us in. The bathroom is bigger than the ones in economy, but it’s still close quarters.

“Alina,” he says, and I stare at his lips as my name leaves his mouth. They’re audaciously pink, and I know how soft they feel because I was touching them only moments before. “You prefer me to call you that?” My gaze is still pinned to his mouth. His hand lifts and his thumb touches my bottom lip. I take in a sharp breath, knowing I should pull out of his reach.

I don’t like this man.

I don’t know this man.

But I like his touch, even if the man is an ass.

“You should answer me; we don’t have long.” He glances at his expensive wristwatch. “I wonder if you can come on my fingers within two minutes,” he purrs, and my breath rattles as I’m sucked out of my thoughts. When he removes his thumb from my bottom lip, I stifle a small moan. His smirk grows and he pushes up against me.

My heart hammers in my chest when his body presses against mine, my face nestled in his neck, and I canfeelhim.

“Do you want me to slide my hand up your skirt right now, Alina?” he whispers in my ear, and my heart is fucking pounding like a treacherous bitch. And then a low ache begins between my legs at the insinuation.

No.

---