Page 2 of The Layover

Are there countries where castrating your ex is a legal means of recourse? I replied.

She had an asinine ex-husband too, so she’d get it. God, I wish. Ooh, what about… Nope. Never mind. Still illegal.

Don’t let that stop you from suggesting it. I hear there are no bad ideas, I wrote.

This is a great idea. Still illegal, though.

My laugh died in my throat when my phone rang, interrupting the conversation and souring the coffee in my gut when the name Dickhead McGee appeared on my screen. I’d be amused that either one of Daria’s children or boyfriends changed the name, if I wasn’t annoyed to see Curtis calling.

I clicked Answer. “You’ve reached the desk of Carly Hammond. She refuses to talk to your arrogant ass right now, so— “

“Hey, Temptress.” Curtis’s smooth tone and use of a nickname I’d learned to loathe made me grit my teeth. I could picture him sitting in some overpriced mesh draft chair, leaning back in one of those tacky Hawaiian print shirts he liked so much, with a smug look on his face. “Long time no talk,” he said.

“For good reason.”

Curtis made a clucking noise. “I hear we’re going to be working neighbors. I wanted to call before you got here, and see if we need to make any sort of who can be onsite when arrangements. To keep things from getting awkward.”

Wait. What? “How did you know I was going to be there?”

“Raphael Investment Group project plus restoration equals the adorable little Carly,” he said.

Castration was too good for him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” If this was a romance novel, I’d tell him next that he could meet my new boyfriend while I was there. It wasn’t, and I refused to let myself care what Curtis thought. “I’ll be busy working, so I’m more likely to run into whatever sucker you have doing your work this month, than I am you.”

“Hmm. I’ll see you in Milan, Temptress.” His tone was cool, no hint of reaction whatsoever, and he hung up first.

Which made me more furious. I exercised far more restraint than I should need to, to keep myself from calling him back just so I could be the one to hang up on him.

Fuck it. I refused to let anything, even him, ruin the fact that I was spending the next few weeks in my favorite city. Milan was gorgeous in the summer. And the fall. In winter. Spring…

He wasn’t going to spoil this trip for me.

I kept the thought on repeat in my mind as the airline called for First Class to board. I made so many trips that it was nothing to upgrade my flight, and I fell in with the handful of other passengers in the same section.

As I stowed my bag and settled into my seat, Mr. Jeans with the sexy forearms took the seat next to me, and Mr. Suede Vest, who I assumed was his partner, sat across the aisle from us.

The view ought to make for a nicer flight, and helped push Curtis further from my mind. “Do you two want to sit together?” I asked. “We could swap seats?”

“No, thank you.” Mr. Jeans’s accent sent pleasant shivers racing down my spine. “He likes to watch.”

Was that a lost in translation kind of reply? I hoped not, because the way he winked when he said it made me want to clench my thighs together. “Lucky for me, I like the attention.”

Mr. Jeans smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They were even hotter in person. Go figure.

They were also mostly quiet as everyone finished boarding, and we left the gate. I could respect that. Appreciate it even. Friendly was one thing, but non-stop chatting from Salt Lake to New York, even if it was mostly flirting, wasn’t for me.

I could turn my attention to my current read. As I pulled the book up on my phone, a few choice words stood out.

He lingered on her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples, while his partner gave her pussy extra attention.

I’d forgotten I left off on one of the spicy scenes. As long as no one read over my shoulder, I’d be fine.

Easy to say, but as I read about the heroine being worked over by two adoring gods, insistent need throbbed between my legs, and my pulse quickened.

I really shouldn’t read this in a place where I couldn’t masturbate, but there was no way I was stopping now. It was so easy to imagine myself in her place.

“I don’t think teeth work that way.” Mr. Jeans’s sexy-as-fuck accent wove its way into my reading.

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