Page 70 of That Conflicted Feeling
“Itwas the easiest thing to use,” he says, as if it were a totally ordinary thing for someone to think, “Hmmm.ShallItake the bike, the car, or the chopper?”
Itry to swing my leg over the fence, but my dress gets caught.
“Allowme,” he bellows.
Hebends over, wraps his arm around my thighs, and throws me over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.I’vebarely realized it’s happening before he plops me down on the other side of the fence, swings his legs over, and joins me.
God, that was…gallant.Isthat the word?Itwas definitely strong, and swift, and in control.Prettymuch all the thingsMaxseems to be.Andit’s made me go a little wobbly.
Igrab a handful of hair that’s blown across my face from the draft of the helicopter and make a largely fruitless attempt to hold it back.Whata waste of half an hour with the curling iron.
“Mr.Harringtonwon’t be happy you landed here.”Ihave to virtually scream over the noise now.
Maxlowers his mouth to my ear. “He’sfine.Iasked permission.Noneed to worry.”
Hesmiles and takes my hand, and we run, heads down, knees bent, to the chopper, where he helps me up into the back seat.
Thenoise isn’t much better inside.
Maxfollows me in, shuts the door, and hands me a headset. “Putthese on.Andyour seatbelt.”
“Goodto go,Mr.Dashwood?” the pilot asks in our ears.
“Yes.”Max’svoice buzzes through the microphone as he looks at me. “Ihave everythingIneed now.”
Hetakes my hand and gives me a smile that brings such a warm glow to my heartIalmost forgetI’msitting on the luxurious leather seats of a helicopter he seems to own.I’dbe just as happy ifIwere next to him in a rusted-out old truck.
“Whoa.”IgrabMaxwith one hand and the seat with the other as the chopper swings into the air.
Heputs his arm across me, like a warm, muscular security bar. “It’sokay.You’llget used to it.”
“Whereare we going anyway?”
“You’llsee.”Hekisses the back of my hand.
AndIwatch the house with my mom andCarlyin it, as well as the goats in their enclosure, turn into small dots below.
21
MAX
Fortyminutes of admiring the scenery and refusing to tellPollywhere we’re going later,Ilean across her to point out of the window.
I’mnot sure if it’s an accident or if there’s a force field around her that constantly pulls me in, but my bicep brushes her breast.Thethought of being just a few layers of fabric from her nipple sends a shiver rippling up my arm and shooting down to my cock.
Ihave to take a breath beforeIcan talk. “That’sthe answer to your question.”
Shelooks down at the huge lake surrounded by dense trees.
“We’relanding on water?”Herwide eyes turn to me. “Thehelicopter’s amphibious?”
She’sadorable.Distractinglyadorable.Inconvenientlyadorable.
Usually, if someone stands between me and a business move,I’mfocused solely on how to block their protests, not how best to kiss my way around their neckline.
“Ha, no.Lookthere.Inthe middle of the lake.”
Asthe chopper takes a wide turn and starts to descend, what looked like a lump of rock from a distance is revealed as an island.Witha helipad on it.
