Page 12 of Keeping The Virgin

Early the next morning,there’s already a contract that’s been slipped under my door. It’s a simple agreement between Cage and me, and I note that he’s had access to the Highest Bidder files that verify I have no diseases and that I’ve agreed to “relations” with a partner who’s just as physically clean. I’m on birth control, as well, so it seems everything is set.

I sign and leave the papers for Cage to find and, over an hour later, a limo is driving us to the airport. I stifle a yawn. If Cage notices, he doesn’t let on. He’s too busy barking orders into the phone, clearly keeping the employees of his business on their toes even before regular work hours start.

I can’t stop looking at him, because he’s wearing a dark suit today, just like he does in all those paparazzi pictures. He’s polished, with his hair tamed, with his burgundy tie knotted, with his golden cuff links gleaming.

I enjoy looking at this version of Cage, too.

Reallylike. Enough to conjure naughty thoughts of his hands in my panties again, his fingers strumming my clit…

I make a small sound in my throat as my pussy buzzes in anticipation of the things to come. Of the me to come. But then, just as I start to get juiced for him, I remember the text I got last night, and my mind goes dark.

I barely notice Cage disconnecting from this latest call and tapping something into his phone. Probably another call.

“Long night?” he asks, the blue glow of the phone mixing with the dimness of the sunrise through the tinted windows.

For a moment, the vivid color of his eyes captures me, and my heart flips in my chest. Then I realize that he isn’t talking on his phone to someone else. He asked me a question, and I shake myself out of my haze.

“Oh. I slept great.”

“You’re yawning. Generally, that’s a sign of a restless night.”

There’s a hint of a wicked grin on his mouth. Is he teasing me? Well, at least as well as someone as cool as Cage Bryant can tease when he’s not trying to make me come during foreplay.

I think he’s even seeing if I’ll admit to wanting him so badly that I couldn’t sleep at all.

But I don’t want to admit that. “You know how it is with a bed that’s not your own. Sleeping in a foreign place feels…odd. No matter how beautiful it is or how soft the sheets are.”

“We’ll have to make sure you’re much more comfortable tonight.”

His suggestive tone sends a thrill through me, and he goes back to work, shutting me out.

What a surprise.

Soon we pass the general airport and drive to a smaller section where it seems that private aircrafts operate.

Oh my god—are we going on his own plane?

Of course we are and, once again, I try not to make a fool out of myself, showing just how inexperienced I am as the limo drops us off at the small terminal and we’re escorted to his private jet by a suited man on Cage’s security detail.

After we climb the steps and enter the aircraft, I look around at the lobby or sitting room or lounge or…whatever I’m standing in. All I know is that it’s plush, with creamy white leather seats, serene colors, smooth wood, and gold trim. There’s even a big TV and a dining table attached to the wall. I don’t know what being rich smells like, but there’s a scent in the air that makes me think of palaces.

“Wow,” I whisper.

He surveys his own jet as if he’s never seen it before. “This belongs to Bryant Industries.”

“In other words it’s your jet.”

His laugh rumbles. “Yes, it is.”

“I mean. Wow. When I flew out here for the Highest Bidder job, I’d hardly even ridden in coach before, much less first class. And this is…” I shake my head. “Heavenclass.”

He’s still got that hint of a smile as he shows me to a massive armchair and I sink into it. It even feels like smooth, silky cream.

“Make yourself at home,” he says. “If you’re tired, there’s a bedroom in back. There’s also a conference room that you can relax in if you don’t want to hear me on business calls, and the galley is fully stocked if you want food.”

He’d left breakfast for me this morning—Eggs Benedict and delicious fresh berries—and although he hadn’t joined me, I’d enjoyed his cooking once again. “I’m not even close to hungry, but thank you.”

I see his own hunger start to burn in his gaze, and just as my heartbeat picks up, the crew appears. A chic flight attendant relieves me of my bag and hands me a Bellini. Cage waves off a drink as he takes a seat next to me. He still has his phone in hand, and I’m sure he’s ready to use it once we’re settled.

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