Page 5 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
My heart jumps out of my chest when a jolting buzz electrifies my clenched hand. Glancing down, I spot a long, elegant finger tracing the veins protruding in my hand. My breathing lengthens as my eyes lift to Mr. Holt. He’s staring at me, his gaze penetrating and utterly consuming.
“How about we test the theory?”
Too terrified to form words, I fleetingly nod.
The hairs on my body bristle when his finger leisurely runs up my arm until it stops at the throb in my neck. When his big, manly hand grips my throat, my pupils widen. His hold isn’t tight enough to cause discomfort. It’s a domineering clutch that has me releasing a husky moan.
After loosening his grip on my neck, he saves my bottom lip from my menacing teeth. “I’m going to bite that lip.” His words are more a confirmation than a suggestion.
When his thumb slides over my lips, wetness pools between my legs. Brazenly, I nibble on the tip. I’ve never been bold, but his demanding eyes are making me reckless.
My body temperature turns excruciating when his hand curls around the nape of my neck. The sting of his fingers adds to the tingling in my core, and they turn my breathing ragged. His eyes skim my face before darting down to my famished mouth. His stares at me for several long seconds, his head tilting like he’s preparing to kiss me.
I snap my eyes shut and lick my lips, preparing to taste his perfectly structured mouth.
When a whoosh of air hits my cheeks, my eyes pop back again. Mr. Holt isn’t advancing toward me. He’s retreating. Once he’s again sitting on his side of the plush leather seat, he takes a hefty gulp of whiskey. Even being disappointed, my core can’t help but spasm when his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. When his glass is void of liquid, he places it down before shifting his eyes to me. His heavy-lidded gaze still shows his hunger, but something in them has altered.
Slanting his head, he gestures to the window behind me. I gasp when I follow the direction of his gaze. Nothing but puffy white clouds in a brilliant blue sky reflect back at me.
“I’d say the theory has been proven,” Mr. Holt mutters aloofly.
Although he distracted me long enough I survived the take-off without a meltdown, a ping of disappointment hits my chest. The touching, the rush of excitement, the desire, it was all a game? A ploy to lessen my panic?
CHAPTER3
Ipress my palms on the black marble vanity of the business class bathroom. Although this washroom is larger than the economy bathrooms I’ve become accustomed to, I still can’t extend my arms without hitting a partition wall.
After taking a big breath, I lift my eyes to the gold-encrusted vanity mirror. My face is flushed, my lips are swollen and red from Mr. Holt’s thumb rubbing along them, and the unbridled look of lust is in my eyes. That’s what reflects back at me—a look that doesn’t belong on my face.This isn’t me.That woman nibbling on a stranger’s thumb isn’t me. I have rules. I have morals—morals I’d forgo just for one taste of his sinfully delicious-looking mouth.
What? Jesus, Isabelle, get a grip!
I’ve been hiding in the washroom for the past twenty minutes, trying in vain to reel back the dignity that eluded me when I sucked on Mr. Holt’s thumb. Thankfully, the flight has another hour and twenty-three minutes until we land.
Yes, I’m counting.
Unfortunately, that means I still have an hour and twenty-three minutes of being seated next to a man who makes me disregard all my ethics. I swear I’m not generally like this. At the very least, I expect to be wined and dined before allowing any man to get close to my panties, but one look from Mr. Holt’s piercing gray eyes makes me want to tear off my panties and hand them to him on a shiny silver platter.
An urgent knock on the door startles me. “Just a minute.”
I shouldn’t be surprised by the interruption. I’ve been hogging the only bathroom in business class since the ‘Fasten Seat Belt’ sign was switched off.
I exhale the nerves fluttering in my stomach before swinging open the door. My breath hitches when I discover who’s knocking. Mr. Holt’s six-foot-plus, well-formed physique fills the doorway. As his eyes roam my body, he boldly steps into the washroom. My thighs touch when his enticing scent permeates the air, ridding the space of its offensive sanitizer smell.
His gaze is unyielding like a man who knows what he wants and has no intention of backing down until he gets it. And from his gaze alone, I can tell he wants me. Pleased by my inner monologue, a pleading moan vibrates my lips. Don’t judge. I may be in a washroom thirty thousand feet in the air, but I haven’t had sexual contact with a man in months, let alone with one as devastatingly gorgeous as Mr. Holt.
“Why are you hiding in the bathroom?”
“I’m not hiding.” My tone hints at my deceit.
Seconds feel like minutes when we stand across from each other in an intense gray-eyes-versus- brown-eyes, lust-driven stare-down. We’re close enough for the hum of intimacy to be felt, but far enough apart I still hold a shred of composure.
A victorious smile tugs my lips when he turns his gaze away first. Scrubbing one hand over his head, he shoves his other into his pocket. “I don’t have time for relationships.”
Brazenly, I reply, “That’s okay, neither do I.”
In my industry, I can’t have a pet much less a relationship.
His eyes lock with mine, shocked by my blasé response. “If we do this, you need to be aware it’s a one-time-only deal. There won’t be any calls in the morning, no dates next week. One time only.”
