Page 30 of Rim Job

"Jen, Evelyn," Rim says as he squeezes my hand where it once again rests in the crook of his arm.

Shit. How’d that happen?

"Sorry, ladies, you will need to share a room. There are only two bedrooms on this jet."

"I guess we can make do." Evelyn laughs.

"Marcos will take your things and lead you to your room. We'll have cocktails out here after takeoff. So, please ladies, see your things to your room and come back to join us for takeoff in about ten minutes."

As if summoned, the beast of a man boards the jet, carrying Evelyn and Jen's bags and moves toward the hallway.

Jen squeezes my arm. "See you in just a bit."

I snag her hand. "Don't leave me," I whisper beg.

Obviously, I cannot be trusted to be alone with this man. I make the worst decisions where he's concerned.

"You'll be okay. We'll be back in just a few minutes, we have to be seated for take-off." And with that, Jen and Evelyn walk away, leaving me alone with Rimmington Banks. So much for them running interference.

The limo driver appears, carrying my bags.

"Shall I leave Mrs. Banks’ bags in your bedroom, Lord Banks?"

Before I can protest that I'm not Mrs. Banks, Rim answers, "Thank you, Thomas. Please put the lady's things in our room."

Hold on! What?!

"Our room? Did you say our room?"

No. Hell no. No damn way! I cannot share a bed with this man.

"Love, there are only two cabins on this jet. Plenty of room for you to share with me. We likely will only nap. Do you think you will have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself? Is that the problem?”

Oh, this shithead.

"No, I most definitely will not have a problem keeping my hands to myself."

Rim smiles and looks down. I follow his gaze to where my hand still rests in the crook of his arm.

Shit.

I yank my hand away, like this man's got the worst case of cooties known to North America.

"Sweetheart, it's just a room with a bed. We are two grown adults who can share a room without shagging. Unless you'd be up for that, then I'd be happy to oblige. Anything for my lady."

"Oh my God. You're disgusting!"

He's so not. He's handsome and charming. A flirt. I am so fucked.

He leans in, his minty-sexy-man-breath caressing the shell of my ear. "You didn't think I was too disgusting the night that you married me, when my face was buried in that sweet pussy."

This man gets under my skin faster than anyone I've ever known. He frazzles me, and I'm not equipped to deal with him. His devasting good looks, coupled with his penchant for innuendos, is seriously throwing me off what I thought was a good game face.

"Rim, please..."

"I love it when you beg, Christina. You said that a lot that night, sweetheart. I wouldn't be opposed to giving you a repeat performance."

Shit.

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